Further, what does it mean to be a feminist and a mother? I want to pose these questions to those of you who read my humble blog because it is a question I have been contemplating myself.
I've recently heard feminism described as a term with "a lot of baggage," and I'm not altogether certain what that means. I proudly proclaim myself to be a feminist, and I've been called upon to explain why I consider myself a feminist more times than I can count. I haven't completely formulated what I want to say about feminism, myself, space, and motherhood, so I think this will turn into a series of posts. I do want to say, however, that I don't think feminism and motherhood are incompatible. I wouldn't have even considered that notion if someone hadn't posed that issue to me. For me, being a feminist unconsciously informs most decisions I make, including many of the ones I make regarding my son. I think being a feminist or not being a feminist is very similar to the idea of competitive mothering I wrote about a few weeks ago. As women, we feel compelled to defend our choices, and a lot of that defense takes the form of judging other people's choices. Isn't the purpose of feminism to give women (and by extension men) choices?
7 comments:
I, too, consider myself a feminist mother and I absolutely believe that feminism precludes a series of choices for individual women. Feminism is what has allowed us to move away from the judgement of others choices. And...I had never thought about that idea tied with competitive mothering. It seems quite logical of course. What is even more interesting is the idea that competitive mothering continues to work to divide women which is NOT the intent of feminism. I look foward to your future posts.
-C
Sorry if this wasn't coherent, by the way. My little girl just woke up.
This is a very complex disussion and unfortunately I can't get into it right now, but I totally agree that being a mother and a feminist are NOT mutually exclusive things!
wow, you know I was just about to put together a post on why it's open season on women's choices. well, not that I know why but that it is open season. women who choose not to have kids, for instance, don't have it any easier than women who do. we all have to defend our choices..our choices are always open to critique from all corners. even random strangers feel comfortable commenting for whatever reason. it's a real mess.
Not to dismiss continuing efforts to think about what feminism "is" or what it means to be a feminist and a mother, these questions are certainly important. But, my knee-jerk reaction (my initial reaction)to your first question is that it seems a lot like asking "What is an American?" In both cases, there's the literal definition: an American is someone who lives in/or is a citizen of America, just as the technical definition of a feminist would be someone who ascribes to part or all of feminist ideologies and/or activism. However, in both cases, there's also the element of there's-no-such-thing-as-one-answer (especially if one considers the postmodern approach to questions of truth).
I personally believe that feminism (like any other ideology) is open to me *taking* what I find useful and meaningful in my life (both professional and personal) and *leaving* the rest. I do this with most (if not all) schools of theory or ideologies. I rarely buy in to anything "hook, line, and sinker" with no room for uncertainty or change. Just because I'm a feminist - a quite radical one in most cases - doesn't mean that I have to:
a)believe and support everything else that any/every other feminist has to say;
b)account for, defend, or attack feminists who represent themselves in a way different from myself *even* if I personally don't agree with their claims, methods, etc.; c)feel compelled to go around defending the political movement or its history,or the literary methodology and its usefulness.
Mothering and feminist activism are both personal and political for me. Not because some famous feminist told me they should be, but because in very obvious (to me) ways my culture has made them so. I'm okay with what others have termed "baggage" because I feel competent enough to use that "baggage" as a tool to help me in continuing to think about my own personal, professional, and political identifications. For me, "baggage" is a good thing. It contributes to the production of knowledge about constructions of gender, power, nation, sex, race, and a number of other critical concepts. The great thing is: mothering has helped me think more critically about these things, too, and often in very different ways than I would have as a result of feminism by itself. For that, I'm very happy to call myself a feminist and a mother.
I think you're quite right, academama, that it is a very personal thing to call oneself a feminist, and my definition is likely to be very different from yours. But I guess that is what I'm interested in. I want to know how you (and others) respond to the term.
I'm a feminist. And a mother. A feminist mother. A mothered and mothering feminist.
For me the terms come together in a sort of consciousness, an awareness of the ways women face particular challenges and with a hope that we can strategize together to find ways to deal with them. Personally, becoming a mother has enabled me to be much more clear and efficient about what I want and who I want to be. And that feels feminist to me, because it empowers me. I'm not as wishy washy as I used to be. I don't fake things as much. I'm more aware of the realities of what can hurt me in some ways, because I'm painfully aware now of the things that can hurt my daughter, but at the same time, I'm less willing to waste my time or energy or let someone walk over me just to avoid a conflict. My mothering has taught me to see myself as the same sort of precious entity that I see in my daughter. So it has helped me achieve the kind of self-respect and love for myself and others that feminism, no matter how you define it, should be aiming to bring to all women.
Hope that makes sense. Google Reader is addictive and I'm up way past my bedtime. More posts on this, Separation of Spheres!
Duh, I meant M. Again, bedtime calls.
Post a Comment