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ANNUAL REPORT FROM THE DIRECTOR

The Motherhood Foundation Inc. (MFI) funds ongoing activities and exhibitions at the Museum of Motherhood (MOM). We are grateful for the financial support we received this year. This year’s anonymous grant awarded funds to help support acquisitions, education, art residencies, and scholarship. MOM has not allowed onsite visitors since the COVID-19 pandemic in early March 2020, however, our activities continue.

In February we built and installed a Women’s History Exhibit at USF (University of Southern Florida) in Tampa at the Women and Gender Studies Center celebrating the centennial of American women’s right to vote. That exhibit, titled The Founding Mothers, was archived and is currently available for viewing online at our website. As part of that initiative, one of our students recorded highlights of the feminist waves so that visually impaired visitors could access the information via audio. The website was also redesigned and rebuilt over the course of 2019.

Our internship program mentored eight student interns including three international students who were guided to create content on a wide-ranging series of topics including film and feminist perspectives, literature reviews from our library focused on historical perspectives as they pertain to women, and gendered labor to name a few. Some of these students came from Reproductive Justice classes at USF and some discovered us through Google search as they sought out opportunities for remote internships in a museum setting.

Online exhibits are ongoing in partnership with Procreate Project and the Mom Egg Review (England & USA). MOM also assisted with the promotion and launch of Maternal Arts Magazine (International) in 2020. The Journal of Mother Studies (JourMS) featured the work of ten authors along with two book reviews and was published online on September 1, 2020.

PROGRAMMING: As 2021 approaches with new challenges and opportunities, MOM seeks to reactivate our ongoing Residency Program (by application) onsite at the MOM Art Annex in St. Petersburg, Florida. This program encourages scholars, artists, and activists to apply for the Residency Program onsite for a two-week opportunity for personal and professional development within the interdisciplinary subject of mother studies. (This project is currently funded by volunteer labor).

DEVELOPMENT: MOM is an art, science, and history center. Goals for the MOM Art Annex in St. Pete include purchasing an additional out-building, creating a foundation pad for the building onsite, and outfitting the building for arts activities and art storage ($20,000). In addition to adding an out-building, an existing shed needs attention. Goals include outfitting the shed with AC, finishing the interior walls, moving historical items that are currently inside the main house to this exterior location and installing plexiglass so that visitors can safely access the exhibit without jeopardizing any of the curated materials on display ($18,000). Finally, we aim to create a dozen outdoor waterproof plexi-glass posters to be installed along the fence perimeter of the Annex ($3,000).

ACQUISITIONS: MOM Art Annex aims to acquire a life-size birthing simulator mannequin ($4,295) an antique incubator, (prices vary), exterior sculptures for the sculpture garden (prices vary according to individual artists), as well funds to hire an app developer for MOM.

Wishing you heath and happiness in the new year,

Martha Joy Rose, Director

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Blog Caregiving Education Featured Feminism gender Internships USF

Out With The Old – In With The New

By Ca Hoang

The pile of work I had felt endless. As soon one was completed, another followed. Letting out a deep sigh, I allowed myself to take a break, to do anything that did not involve staring at the laptop screen for the next hour. I fetched a broom and a dustpan and began sweeping the floor of the shared area in my apartment. It was my new found mode of tending to myself. While looking after my living space, I was also greeted with a sense of calmness that I craved. Almost every time I embark on this simple act of self-care, I am reminded of an incident with my once close friend when we were in middle school. It was our turn that morning to handle class cleaning duties and I remember vividly how the moment I started sweeping, my friend gasped and scolded, “That’s not how you do it!” She grabbed the broom from my hands and continued, “You should at least know how to sweep the floor as a girl!” I was eagerly sweeping dust into the air and surely learned a thing or two about housekeeping from my friend then and there. I used to laugh off her reaction to how inexperienced I was with chores, but lately, I cannot help but think about her latter exclamation. Why must I know how to sweep the floor as a girl?

Recently, I was introduced to Sara Ruddick’s Maternal Thinking. In her book, Ruddick engages the readers in discussions of mothering as a practice informed by maternal thinking and how it relates to politics of peace. One of the many ways in which Maternal Thinking proved significant is that rather than viewing motherhood as an identity, maternal work is proposed to be studied as an experience, which thus de-genders motherwork (O’Reilly, A., 2009). Through the lens of maternal thinking, no longer would caring for a child or taking care of household matters such as sweeping, or ironing clothes be seen as exclusive to women. In an article written before the publication of Maternal Thinking, Ruddick shares that one of the goals she had when developing the concept was to unite mothers and feminists (Ruddick, 1983). Ruddick expresses her beliefs that, in spite of how feminism and motherhood may seem contradicting to some, maternal work can contribute to the feminist perspective, while “feminist transformation of maternal thinking was in the deepest interests of mothers”, which I think has become increasingly evident. Although dated, the concepts introduced by Sara Ruddick then continue to be relevant today.

Learning about maternal thought and how it separates gender from labour has changed my internal dialogue from questioning why certain labour are gendered the way they are, to seeking how the understanding of feminism and motherhood can be transformed. I am only beginning to internalize how gender norms and idealization of motherhood has shaped the environment that I grew up in, but I am glad that Maternal Thinking has provided me at least a starting point. Perhaps maternal thinking can also be applied to the way we mother ourselves, as tending to our personal needs also involves preservation and growth. Nonetheless, I think I can now comfortably sweep the floor or partake any other housekeeping activity without obsessing over how engaging in them would relate to my gender and instead focus on myself as well as the activity in its own right.

Featured Photo by Jan Kopřiva

References

O’Reilly, A. (2009). “I Envision a Future in Which Maternal Thinkers Are Respected and Self-Respecting”: The Legacy of Sara Ruddick’s Maternal Thinking. WSQ: Women’s Studies Quarterly, 37(3–4), 295–298.

Ruddick, S. (1983). Thinking about Mothering—and Putting Maternal Thinking to Use. Women’s Studies Quarterly, 11(4), 4–7.

About

Ca is an international student from Vietnam at the University of South Florida. She is pursuing a dual degree in Statistics and Public Health with aspirations of working in the field of biostatistics in the future. Ca learned about the Museum of Motherhood through the Reproductive Health, Rights and Justice class instructed by Dr. Singh and was inspired by the work the Museum has and continues to engage in. As an intern, she has created blog posts that share activities and perspectives about caregiving, self-care, as well as the lessons we can learn from each activity.

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Blog Caregiving Conferences Education Featured JourMS Sociology

Black Motherhood In 2020

By Kimya P. Barden, PhD

To all mothers, but Black mothers in particular –

I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. Truly, I do. Because as a Chicago-based mother of four beautiful Black children, I often feel stressed (Brown et al., 2020). The convergence of both COVID-19 and the state-sanctioned murders of Black men and women at the hands of law enforcement has left me weary. I have three young children under age five, two of whom happily attended full-day preschool before our nation began to “shelter-in” this past March with the hopes of collectively reducing the spread of the coronavirus. My other young child happily bounced between being at home with me and going two to three times a week to “Grammie and Grandpa’s,” my husband’s parents. The arrangement was quite nice. I got to spend time away from my children at work as a college professor or even engage in much-needed self-care treating myself to an occasional workout or lunch with friends or my beloved husband.

Fast-forward six months and as of September 8, 2020, the first day of school for Chicago Public Schools, my modest three-bedroom apartment is now a hodgepodge epicenter of all things early childhood.  My oldest son, age five, had been in preschool for over two years. An early and voracious reader, he thrived at both a cooperative school and a Montessori school, each decorated with puzzles, games, books, and most importantly the opportunity to forge human connections with his peers and teachers.  As a recently minted kindergartner, his first “school-age” experience is now in our cramped living room two to three times a week in front of a Google Chrome book with my husband and me volleying the role of tech facilitator (him) and emotional coach (me). From 7:45 am until 2:45 pm (with a few breaks in between), my son stares into a computer screen peppered with up to eight moving squares populated by his teachers and classmates, people he will probably never see in-person this year, maybe indefinitely. Though his teachers do a great job of pacing the class to ensure he and his peers have a balance between synchronous and asynchronous learning, he is expected to log-in and stay logged-in as “this is how the district monitors attendance.”  

My four-year-old daughter, who had been home with me for most of the first three years of her life, finally bought into the concept of school, even resisting my authority at times with the refrain of “well, my teacher told me.” Unlike my son’s public school, her school is independent and thus offered parents the option of returning to school for in-person instruction or engaging in virtual learning. However, I didn’t want to risk exposing my daughter or the rest of my family to the coronavirus. Nor did I believe that virtual learning was developmentally appropriate for preschool-aged children.  Now that she is back home in full-day “Mommy school” she is learning phonics and sight words by manipulating colorful refrigerator letter magnets, developing her social/emotional intelligence by practicing patience and forgiveness with her younger brother (who often sabotages her sight words with a quick hand swipe), fine-tuning her fine motor skills by helping me write the weekly grocery list, and engaging in artistic expression on our kitchen table with watercolor paint and my 8 x 10 printer paper as her canvas.

My two-year-old son, smack dab in the middle of being a “terrific two,” seems to have a phone or tablet in his hand much more than I desire. I have never been the parent to crucify screen time for toddlers. Sometimes, fifteen minutes of Baby Shark or Storybots can save the day as I try to prepare a home-cooked meal or finish up a work-related e-mail. However, I have noticed his level of comfort and the phone seems to be an appendage as he seamlessly scrolls and taps with the ease of a tech-savvy teenager. I am concerned about his preparedness for preschool next year as he is missing out on much needed social engagement that playgroups and toddler classes can offer. Although many daycares are enrolling two-year-olds to provide working families with much-needed child care,  I am not comfortable sending him to daycare as my son is still learning how to social distance and wear a mask.  

Still, my 18-year-old daughter is caught within the intersections of both navigating college on-line and being a Black young adult living in an urban context.  Despite an unconventional senior year of high school (her senior class may have inaugurated the first of many drive-through, “red-carpet” graduations), feeling disappointed that her college decided only two weeks before the first day of the semester to go fully online, she appears to be enjoying college classes at Howard University from her bedroom. The college dorm and campus “yard” experiences that I remember vividly from my own college experience twenty years ago have been replaced by her and her friends going to restaurant drive-throughs or visiting a friend’s house. These behaviors are developmentally appropriate and before the pandemic would have been approved, even encouraged by me. Since the pandemic, these behaviors are now risky, each having the potential to compromise our family’s health and often include the following reminders upon her departure: “do you have your mask?” or “where is your hand sanitizer” or “remember to stay outdoors as much as possible.”  Still, as my daughter and all of her friends are Black, the risks extend beyond those of contracting a microscopic virus which has taken the souls of more than 235,000 Americans (mostly people of color and the elderly) at the time of this writing. 

Though the murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and Ahmaud Abery are the most recent high profile killings by both police and/or narcissistic vigilantes, young Black bodies have been subjected to state-sanctioned violence since this country’s founding, particularly in Chicago. This includes Chicago-reared teenagers and young adults like 17-year-old Eugene Williams stoned to death during the “race riots” of 1919, 14-year-old Emmet Till mutilated and shot to death while visiting Mississippi relatives in 1955, 22-year-old Rekia Boyd fatally shot by a police officer in 2012, and 17-year-old LaQuan McDonald shot 16 times by a police officer in 2014. Each was prematurely murdered during a critical stage of human psychosocial development characterized by increasing independence and responsibility. I can only imagine how their mothers, grandmothers, and mother-figures wept.

As a Black mother of a college student, I have to frequently have “the Talk”— the desperate soliloquy delivered by Black parents to their pre-adolescent and adolescent children about adopting placating body language and intonation as a tool against the dangers of racism (Whitaker & Snell, 2016). “The Talk” is delivered to prolong both Black children’s freedom and their actual lives in the presence of police officers or others who can use their power and positions of authority to alter the course of Black life. “The Talk” is not novel. My mother anxiously shared similar words with me in the 1990’s; my grandmother discussed with her how to stay “safe” in the 1960’s; and my grandmother, a second-wave migrant of the Great Migration from Arkansas, received a similar conversation from her parents, my great-grandparents, in the 1950’s. “The Talk” reinforces how powerless many Black parents feel at being ill-equipped to fully protect their children from the fatal impacts of white supremacy (Whitaker & Snell, 2016; Thomas, 2013).  Thus, at times, I believe Black motherhood in particular can be simultaneously risky and rewarding. Despite all of my planning, care, thought, and especially prayer, I know my children’s bodies may be rendered by others as invisible, a threat, and inconsequential. 

In the year 2020, my Black motherhood feels like a particularly arduous marathon as I laboriously protect my four children from both an invisible, yet deadly virus and the harm that may come from race-based discrimination. Psychologists and other mental health providers have coined a term that sums up this disjointed feeling I often have: race-related stress (APA, 2018; Utsey et. al, 2008). It is psychosocial distress and harm caused by racial discrimination perpetrated against people of color in the form of the following forms of racism: individual (an individual’s conscious and unconscious bias directed at a person of color), cultural (false messages from cultural groups deemed superior about the inferiority of people of color), and institutional (policies and practices embedded within institutions like education which are often weaponized against people of color). 

For example, as Black women are disproportionately confined to the “service” sector, employed as teachers, health care specialists, delivery drivers, retail staff, fast-food cashiers, and other “essential” workers, they may experience individual race-related stress by both the broader public and their colleagues.  Social scientists often label this form of race-related stress as micro-aggressions or everyday racism (Pierce, 1970; Sue, 2017). Still, cultural racism can impact Black mothers’ stress levels as they consume news outlets —both social media and broadcast media— which feed the voyeuristic appetites of media consumers who routinely use news outlets to show both the murders of Black people and the polarizing “debate” around the importance of protecting our children’s lives.  Black life and death are often subjected to the realm of the public spectacle.   

Still, Black mothers are often subjected to institutional race-related stress via the intersection of occupational segregation and segregated housing policy which disproportionately distributes us to both low-paying jobs and hypersegregated communities void of a robust tax-base to fund highly resourced schools.  This is important as Black mothers (and fathers) with pre-primary and school-aged children in both the public and private sector bear the burden of simultaneously working and home-schooling, or risk sending their children to independent schools and daycare centers knowing that essential family like grandparents may opt-out of caring for their grandchildren to ensure their own health and safety. 

As a university professor at a public university on Chicago’s South Side I work with many mothers, most of whom identify as Black or Latina.  In both on-line class discussions and virtual office hour conversations, the theme of race-related stress dominates their narratives.  Specifically, feelings of anxiety about the uncertainty of parenting, schooling, and work seem to plague these women. The work-family balance is in need of alignment. Accordingly,  I offer you personal and professional tips to get through this moment. I implore you to recite this declaration aloud: MAMA First. MAMA is an acronym where the letter M stands for meditation, A for awareness, M for movement and the final A stands for access. 

M: Meditation is an exercise of the mind.  For many African Americans, meditation is often likened to prayer or devotion (Woods-Giscombe & Gaylord, 2017). Since March of this year, I have returned to my meditation practice to calm my nerves and spirit. Since the school year began, I have been meditating daily.  I wake up 20 minutes before my children, get in a seated position on my yoga mat, close my eyes, and then breathe. I identify an object of attention, something I want to cultivate more of in my life like joy, gratitude, peace, patience, health, and wellness. I focus on that object and breathe, breathe, breathe. Lately, I have been integrating yoga and positive affirmations into my meditation for additional clarity and balance. 

A: My meditation practice often brings awareness to a unique realization or sensation, particularly my feelings.  Black women and mothers are often discouraged from both feeling and verbalizing anger, frustration, and melancholy as it may reinforce cultural stereotypes about our temperament and ultimately our worth (Perry, 2011). However, acknowledging a full range of emotions is critical as it provides essential information about what is needed to get better. I have become aware that parenting four children, monitoring virtual and “Mommy” school, and working from home often leaves me feeling emotionally exhausted. Acknowledging feelings of defeat and overwhelm can signal that additional supports, breaks, and even time-off from work may be long overdue. 

M: Meditation and awareness breed movement.  It is recommended that adults engage in physical movement for at least 30 minutes daily to impact their weight, mood, and overall health. Given the current demands of motherhood, carving out 30 minutes can seem impossible. However, I implore you to take at least 10 minutes a day and just move. Brisk walking, taking the stairs, and even housework are excellent ways to get your body moving. Movement with your children is even an option.  Exercise with my children includes dancing in my living room to old-school music videos, jumping rope, and even playing family tag.

A:  As a social work practitioner, I affirm that access to mental health therapy services is critical for many Black women and mothers. More than 60% of African Americans believe that mental illness is stigmatized and a sign of weakness (Ward et. al, 2013). However, “talk” therapy with a culturally responsive mental health professional can improve feelings of distress, demystify feelings of worry, cultivate greater communication skills, and improve overall quality of life. These gains can be particularly beneficial for Black mothers parenting in the midst of a public health crisis. If you are in need of someone to talk to, Black-women owned and operated mental health supports like Loveland Foundation, Therapy for Black Girls, and The Boris Lawrence Henson Foundation offer free and discounted therapy for Black women and mothers.

Hang in there Mama,

Kimya

Works Cited

American Psychological Association. (2018). Physiological & Psychological Impact of Racism for African Americans. https://www.apa.org/pi/oema/resources/ethnicity-health/racism-stress

Brown, S.M., Doom, J.R., Lechuga-Pena, S., Watamaru, S.E., & Koppels, T. (2020). Stress and parenting during the global COVID-19 pandemic. Child Abuse and Neglect, August, doi: 10.1016/j.chiabu.2020.104699

RAPID-EC (September 8, 2020). Something’s Gotta Give. https://medium.com/rapid-ec-project/somethings-gotta-give-6766c5a88d18

Utsey, S.O., Giesbrecht, N., Hook, J., & Standard, P.M. (2008). Cultural, familial, and psychological resources that inhabit psychological distress in African Americans exposed to stressful life events and race-related stress. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 55(1), 49-62.

Ward, E.C., Wiltshire, J.C., Detry, M.A., & Brown, R.L. (2013). African American men and women’s attitudes toward mental health illness, perceptions of stigma, and preferred coping behaviors. Nursing Research, 62 (3), 185-194.

Woods-Giscombe, C.L & Gaylord, S.A. (2017). The cultural relevance of mindfulness meditation as a health intervention for African Americans. Journal of Holistic Nursing, 32(3), 147-160.

Whitaker, T. R., & Snell, C. L. (2016). Parenting while powerless: Consequences of “the talk”. Journal of Human Behavior in the Social Environment, 26(3-4), 303-309. https://doi.org/10.1080/10911359.2015.1127736

Perry, M. H. (2011). Sister citizen: shame, stereotypes, and Black women in America. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Pierce, C. (1970). Offensive mechanisms. In F. B. Barbour (Ed.), The Black seventies (pp.265–282). Boston, MA: Porter Sargent.

About: Kimya P. Barden is an Associate Professor of Urban Community Studies at Chicago’s Northeastern Illinois University. A Chicago native and mother of four, her research interests include African American young adult identity development, perceptions of historical trauma by African American youth, and neoliberalism’s impact on African American student identity. She recently contributed to the Journal of Mother Studies exploring the impact of tenure on Black mothers in academia and has presented at multiple MOM Conferences in New York City over the years.

Abstract: Recent data suggests that parental stress is at an all-time high (WHO, 2020).  The combination of both the COVID-19 induced pandemic and collective unrest brought on by police murder and brutality has caused many parents to experience signs of anxiety, depression, and distress. According to a recent poll, 68% of caregivers of young children report a significant increase in stress since the beginning of the pandemic (RAPID-EC, 2020). In addition, as most US school districts have opted this Fall for virtual learning, parents have become even more stressed as they try to manage work and schooling from home. Even more, as the rate of fatalities from both COVID-19 and systemic racism in the form of police violence has disproportionately impacted people of color, race-related stress is particularly pronounced, especially for Black mothers (APA, 2018).

Original publication is online at JourMS: Journal of Mother Studies – LINK: Black Motherhood in 2020

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Blog Education health Internships Sociology USF

On Taking Short Walks

By Ca Hoang

Today I woke up already overwhelmed by the things I had to do for the coming week. I felt horrible, and it was only 9 in the morning. After a while of staring at the items on my desk and occasionally glancing out the window, I decided to go for a walk. A change of atmosphere, I thought, would allow me to set aside my concerns for a moment and just be present. That was when I decided to dress up as I would on a pre-pandemic normal day and head out for a short walk around my apartment complex. I circled around the block twice, initially unsure if this would be helpful. My mind circled a bit thinking about my responsibilities, but as I strolled past the trees and the grass, I could not help but notice how they have grown old from the last time I saw them.  I started to observe my surroundings. As I took in the fresh air, I watched a squirrel jump onto a brick wall and swiftly make its way up. There were flowers I have never seen before and clovers that I never realized were around. There were a few people walking their dogs, but I was the only individual, perhaps somewhat suspiciously, lurking around. Recognizing these little things brought about an odd sense of tranquillity, but it also made me curious about whether others were experiencing walking in a similar manner as I did?

A study (Robinette et al., 2017) found that recreational walking and environmental attributes were closely related to socioeconomic status (SES) areas, that is low SES areas often had disadvantaged attributes with regards to neighborhood aesthetics, safety, and traffic to name a few. These factors in turn affect how people living in such areas engaged in walking as a leisure activity, which is expectedly less than in higher SES areas. The findings were not particularly surprising, but it made me aware once again that more needs to be done to address the SES gap. The difference in how recreational walking is perceived and experienced is yet one of the many fronts in which varying SES levels materializes in terms of health. Another study (Sugiyama et al., 2015) examined how neighborhood SES is associated with health outcomes. Generally, the researchers found that residents of higher SES residential areas suffered from fewer health problems than those living in lower-income areas. The intersection between the area that we live in and our health outcome is evident, but not always obvious.

As a public health student, I had the chance to learn more about health disparities in the United States, and that the discussion of health disparities is never complete without the mention of our zip codes. Yet, I was not expecting to connect what I have learned in my college courses to the simple act of self-care that I chose for myself today. Although the scenery I am surrounded with is not exceptional, it is more than enough to allow me to immerse myself in a temporary departure from the worries I have bundled up. My short walk felt safe and serene. I cannot say this would have been the case if I had taken a walk beyond the gates of my apartment complex. It would take implementing changes at a policy level to be able to provide a more conducive environment for everyone to comfortably engage in activities that not only support their physical but also their mental health. Just for today, I think it is worth being aware that such disparities exist so we can all participate in conversations that discuss how we might possibly help narrow health gap disparities in society.

References

Robinette, J., Charles, S., & Gruenewald, T. (2017). Neighborhood Socioeconomic Status and Health: A Longitudinal Analysis. Journal of Community Health, 42(5), 865–871. https://doi-org.ezproxy.lib.usf.edu/10.1007/s10900-017-0327-6

Sugiyama, T., Howard, N., Paquet, C., Coffee, N., Taylor, A., & Daniel, M. (2015). Do Relationships Between Environmental Attributes and Recreational Walking Vary According to Area-Level Socioeconomic Status? Journal of Urban Health, 92(2), 253–264. https://doi-org.ezproxy.lib.usf.edu/10.1007/s11524-014-9932-1

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Art Birth Blog Education Featured gender health Internships Media Medical Sociology

Mothering Myself – Perspectives On Exercise

By Ca Hoang

Ever since the beginning of summer, my roommates and I have committed to working out at least twice every week. On weekends, we push the living room tables aside, connect our laptop to the TV, and follow the home workout videos on YouTube. The initial dread of regularly drowning in sweat and enduring physical pain soon disperses and is replaced by the joy of engaging our muscles and building our stamina while occasionally laughing at each other’s random comments. I feel grateful that we are continuing this ritual despite the increasing workload we have as students with the semester underway. Exercising together has not only helped keep us active while cooped up at home but also gives us time to focus on ourselves: our bodies, our preferences, our limits. Here at MOM, I am hoping to reflect on some of the ways in which I mother myself as I continue to explore topics in my reproductive justice class with Holly Singh at USF. [My bio link for the museum internship program is here].

Yet, for many expecting mothers as well as mothers who have recently given birth, engaging in physical activity has become their “third shift”. A concept developed by Dworkin and Wachs (2004), the “third shift” refers to how mothers, besides their first working shift and second shift of tending to household matters and childcare, are also socially coerced into participating in fitness regimens in order to “erase physical evidence of motherhood” Mallox, DeLuca, and Bustad (2020). Through thematic analysis, the authors studied the causes and ways in which mothers engage in this cultural phenomenon. They determined five categories that identify mothers within this “third shift’, namely Marathon Moms, Family Fitness Focused Moms, Gym Goer Moms, Custom Coached Moms, and Internet Inspired Moms. The study notes how the media and consumer products have been tailored to pressure mothers to “regain control over their body” and examines the ways in which women’s bodies, post-birth, are conflated with “individual responsibility and moral fortitude”. Both studies also underline how socioeconomic status is entwined with these unrealistic expectations, as not all mothers are able to afford the resources needed to engage in the “third shift bodywork”.

Putting the findings into perspective, I cannot help but feel enraged by postpartum aesthetic ideals that are perpetuated by businesses to profit off of mothers’, and the ways in which they prevail. Rather than being able to prioritize individual well-being with potential health concerns, mothers are subjected to unnecessary and often impractical expectations of having a “good” body by society’s standards. Perhaps unknowingly, my friends and I are also influenced by societal expectations of how our bodies should look when we engage in our workouts as well as in our daily lives. In addition to that, the study prompted me to contemplate how physical activity is dictated by our socioeconomic status. My friends and I do not have the means to afford a personal trainer or special exercising equipment, but we at least have the luxury of space, time, and ability to engage in regular physical activity. This is a clear indication of the health disparities present in our society and yet, the shape of our body is still believed to be determined by how much control we have over ourselves and how responsible we are as individuals. As I enter the next workout session with my roommates, I will keep this in mind: as much as fitness should be promoted, it should never be a measure of one’s character.

Photo credit: Karolina Grabowska from Pexels

References

Maddox, C.B., DeLuca, J.R. and Bustad, J.J. (2020), Working a Third Shift: Physical Activity and Embodied Motherhood. Sociological Inquiry, 90(3) 603-624. https://doi.org/10.1111/soin.12297

Shari L. Dworkin, & Faye Linda Wachs. (2004). “Getting Your Body Back”: Postindustrial Fit Motherhood in Shape Fit Pregnancy Magazine. Gender and Society, 18(5), 610-624. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4149421

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Blog Books Education Featured Feminism gender History Internships

WITCHES, MIDWIVES AND NURSES

By, Srilagna Majumdar

In America, the month of October is the month of witches – the evil, the cruel, and the ugly. The Museum of Motherhood has hundreds of books in its collection, intended to educate, elucidate, and empower. How have women been targeted as witches throughout history, since the middle ages and what can we learn? Let’s look at how Barbara Ehrenreich sheds light upon this subject in her book “Witches, Midwives and Nurses: A history of women healers “ :

The age of witch-hunting spanned more than four centuries in its sweep from Germany to England. Witches represented a political, religious, and sexual threat to the Churches, as well as to the State. In the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, there were thousands of executions- usually burnings at the stake- in Germany, Italy, and other countries- an average of 600 a year for certain German cities. The witch hunts represented a deep-seated social phenomenon that goes far beyond the history of medicine. The most virulent witch hunts were associated with periods of great social upheaval shaking feudalism at its roots- mass peasant uprisings and conspiracies, the beginning of capitalism, and the rise of Protestantism. In some areas, witchcraft represented a female lead peasant rebellion. Unfortunately, the witch herself- poor and illiterate- did not leave us her story. It was recorded, like all history, by the educated elite so that today we know the which only through the eyes of her persecutors. 

While one theory suggests that witch-craze was an epidemic of mass hatred and panic, another interpretation holds that witches themselves were insane. But, in fact, the witch-crazes were neither a lynching party nor a mass suicide by hysterical women. The witch-hunts were well-organized campaigns, initiated, financed and executed by Church and State. Anyone failing to report a witch faced both communication and a long list of temporal punishments.

Who were the witches, then, and what were their “crimes” that arouse such vicious upper-class suppression? First, witches are accused of every conceivable sexual crime against men. Second, they are accused of being organized. Third, they are accused of having magical powers affecting health- of harming, but also of healing. Witch-healers were often the only general medical practitioners for people who had no doctors and no hospitals and who were bitterly affected by poverty and disease. But witch-hunters Kramer and Sprenger had to write, “ No one does more harm to a Church than midwives”. Male upper-class healing under the auspices of the Church was acceptable, female healing as a part of a peasant subculture was not (Pages 7,8,10,14).

The witch healers methods posed a great threat to the Church, since the witch relied on her senses, and on trial and error, cause and effect. She didn’t need any faith or doctrine- this hit the dogma of the Church very hard. This scared the orthodox authoritative Church and compelled them to curb the potential of these women. So, now you know why some regressive and mean minds refer to intelligent, brave, and proud women as “witches” every now and then, even today!

Srilagna Majumdar, India
Included in the MOM Art Annex Library
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Art Blog Cinema Feminism gender motherhood

Mother-Daughter and The Unsaid Things/ FILM

By Emily Zou

In my last post on Obachan’s Garden, a Japanese-Canadian documentary, I wrote about how focusing on the stories of mothers and grandmothers is important in disrupting the way that we remember our history and ancestry. For this week’s post, I’d like to write more locally about the wonderful way that a mother-daughter relationship is explored in Greta Gerwig’s 2017 film Lady Bird.

You’ve probably heard of Lady Bird, which made waves three years ago for its painful authenticity; Greta Gerwig’s directorial debut went on to score five Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, Director, and Actress. The consensus is clear: Lady Bird has brought together a ridiculously charming cast and created a captivating vision of Sacramento, all with some of the funniest and most heartbreaking dialogue committed to the screen.

But motherhood and daughterhood is the movie. In fact, the original draft for the film was titled Mothers and Daughters. The title Lady Bird instead refers to the name that our heroine, Christine (Sairose Ronan) chooses for herself, a perfect example of how eclectically rebellious she is. Desperate to fly to the east coast, to find “real culture”, Lady Bird follows Christine in her senior year of high school, as she falls in and out of love, smokes weed, gets into college, passes her driving test and performs in musicals. All the while, she fights with her mother, Marion, (Laurie Metcalf), a father dealing with depression, and coming to terms with her family’s status in a class-stratified society.

While ruminating on having to talk to people about creating her film, Gerwig remarks in a 2017 NPR interview that “most of those people are men. And if they were raised with sisters or if they had daughters, they knew what it was… But if they didn’t, they had no idea that that was how women fought and how they loved, too. I think it was kind of like they were getting to look into a world that they didn’t know existed”. As more women take the helm in moviemaking, stories that only we can tell come to light and are shared. And its movies like Lady Bird, that capture how beautifully painful leaving home and loving it only after you do so, can be. It’s a story that honors motherhood and our homes that was created because of the women’s own experiences.

There’s one scene that really sums up what makes this film so special to me, it goes something like this: Christine is talking about her college essay with a nun, she wrote it about Sacramento, and the nun remarks that you can tell how much she loves the town. No, Christine replies, I hate this place, I just pay attention, but the nun asks, gently, “Don’t you think maybe they are the same thing? Love and attention?” Cut to her Mom, anxiously waiting for her in a thrift store.

See, love is not always gentle, is not always understandable. But the best love is often the kind that perseveres even when it’s not easy, even when it’s not wanted. The realest loves are embarrassing and irritating and overcritical, but you have to love something a lot to believe in it. To love someone not because they are worth loving but because they are someone.

Lady Bird is painful to watch because it’s real. Gerwig has tapped into this very egocentric teenage stream of worries and worries. You change so much in adolescence; you’re in a constant state of shame for some past iteration of yourself and how earnest you were in being that version of you. You’re always cringing because of the things you forgot to love properly or for the things that you didn’t appreciate enough. And of course, you think you know everything, especially once you realize that you don’t.

And so after seeing a version of you (a teenager) portrayed on screen, you have to take a moment to step back from being caught up in your own head and your own worries. You take note of your surroundings, the home you take for granted, and then the people that have become part of your home.

I remember talking about Lady Bird with my mom after we watched it; we were hiking up a mountain and she was displeased that I had watched a movie that deals with sex and homosexuality. She didn’t like it, and in trying to explain why it touched me, I found that there were tears in my eyes as I tried to describe the raw, heartrending ending scene. She pointed out the traitorous evidence of my emotions and laughed at me.

And I guess its moments like that that prove Lady Bird’s point. Gerwig quipped “I don’t know any woman who has a simple relationship with their mother or with their daughter”, and the very messy way we love our mothers and daughters comes across so effectively in her movie.

I don’t even know if I will even be going to campus in the fall (I’ll be a freshman), but I have become acutely aware of this strange, liminal space that I float in, still at home but not really belonging to it anymore. We owe such an existential, unpayable gratitude to our mothers for all of the trouble they went to allow us to live our little lives. I don’t really talk to my mom much these days, but even when we do, whatever I say never seems to be enough to capture just how deeply I am in her debt. How do you even begin to walk around all of the unsaid things?

I haven’t the faintest clue. But I’ll place my faith in whoever is penning my coming of age story, hoping that they’re as fond of me as Gerwig was of Christine. That it’ll all turn out okay, that I’ll finally have the courage to say Thank you.

(Even if it’s only when I’m 460 miles away).

Categories
Art Blog Featured gender health Internships

Vegetables by Aster Woods

Art and Words by Aster Woods – Aster is caregiver to her mother

03/08/2020 10.32 AM Clean Bedroom
03/08/2020 10.52 AM Find Last Night’s Dinner
03/08/2020 10.55 AM Have Difficult Conversation about Vegetables

I want her to eat vegetables. I want her to eat vegetables so much. I have a Pinterest board full of creative ideas for hiding them, or else making them fun; all are designed for fussy children, not adults. My mum has her sense of taste eroded and warped through too many medications. It tastes metallic, chemical, or burns as if it’s causing an allergic reaction. Almost all foods have turned against her, from vegetables all the way to her beloved chocolate oranges. But it’s the vegetables I care about.

Food tastes bad. I know, I know. But you need vegetables, I say. Your body needs these nutrients, now more than ever. She refuses. She will eat: pasta, cheese, fish fingers, and sausages. But vegetables, I say. You always made me eat my vegetables, as a kid when you were taking care of me and not the other way around. I had to even when I didn’t want to and now it’s payback time. I will meet you halfway, I say. I will blend carrots into cheese sauce on your pasta. I will bake onions into a quiche; you might care about them less if they’re smuggled under bacon, if you don’t have to look them in the eye.
It doesn’t work. I’m dying, she says. Why should I care how much worse I get? There’s no being healthy for me. Healthy is not an option for me. I am and will continue to be unhealthy until I die this year or next year. Any time, really. I am suffering enough. Why can’t I do what I want, now? Why does this have to be harder on me?

I spend half an hour angry, then tearful, then angry again.

I understand. I think. She’s got a point; she knows that eating broccoli now will make no difference to a body already eating itself. I know this too. I know I cannot make her healthy again. But I am selfish. I am still the child, her child. Why can’t she do this for me? Doesn’t she owe me something, don’t all mothers owe their children something? For the sacrifices I have made for her, why can she let me feel I am making a difference? If she were my daughter, and I was her mother, I would force her to eat her vegetables. There is a well-published litany of tactics for this. If you eat your vegetables, you will have ice cream for dessert. You’re not leaving the table until you eat your vegetables. I have neither stick nor carrot for her. There is no treat she can enjoy anymore, no punishment I could inflict worse than her existing suffering.

But I’m not giving up. 

Categories
Art Blog

Stay At Home – MAM, a New Art Magazine Focused on the Maternal

MAM Press Release

MAM is a new art magazine focusing on artists from around the world producing work about the maternal.

The first issue, “Stay At Home”, due out in June 2020 is a response by 20 artists to their experiences of working at home during the COVID-19 pandemic. The magazine aims to support artists through this challenging time as well as raising money for Women’s Aid*.

“Stay At Home” has been edited by Helen Sargeant, an artist and academic based in Todmorden, Yorkshire, UK.

Contributions include paintings by Shani Rhys James and Jessica Timmis, collage work by Lauren McLaughlin, an interview with Paula Chambers who makes installations and sculptures about disrupted domesticity, a series of self-portraits, “PRONIA” by performance artist Nicola Hunter, “Knitted Houses of Crime” by Freddie Robins and exquisite paper-cuttings of matriarchs by Pippa Dyrlaga.

“Stay At Home” is a response to the pandemic, the interruption, and anxiety that each day we are all having to live with. MAM was born initially as a way to distract me from looking too often at the news and becoming depressed, a way to be creative, collaborate, communicate and engage with other artists and mothers during this crisis. MAM’s wish is that this first issue of the magazine will provide its readers with a small moment of joy during this international crisis. MAM: Stay At Home, has been produced at the kitchen table in-between the on-going drama of daily family life, the caring and coaxing of children to do their schoolwork, the cuddling of cats, cooking, clearing up and feeding the washing machine with yet more laundry.”

MAM Editor – Helen Sargeant

* We have chosen to support Women’s Aid as domestic violence has risen by 50 percent in the UK since the lockdown began.

www.maternalart.com ( to be launched June 27, 2020)

instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maternalart/
facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maternalarthome

Helen Sargeant editor of Maternal Art Magazine introduces the art work of Rachel Fallon

Rachel Fallon – The MotherHood 2015

I first encountered Rachel Fallon’s work through the Desperate Art Wives Collective. I was immediately drawn to her works about female identity, confinement and the domestic such as Built in Kitchen 2012, which holds such resonance now during this time of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Rachel is a dear friend of mine and we have been lucky enough to have worked together on many art projects such as The Egg The Womb, The Head and The Moon (2013-2014), Project Afterbirth (2015), Artist As Mother As Artist (2016) and MAM: Stay At Home (2020).

At first, I exchanged slug mail with Rachel, which included drawings and stories of our lives before we became mothers. I was enthralled by the letters that I received and of Rachels accounts of working for a traveling circus across Europe and then living as an artist in Berlin.

It is however her intelligent, personal, political, and thought-provoking art work that continues to act as a catalyst for our communications.

About

Rachel Fallon is a visual artist who deals with themes of protection and defense in domestic realms and addresses the topic of motherhood and womens’ relationships to society. More recently her work has begun to focus on reverse parenting, examining the correlation of roles and duties in elder and parental care and the complex landscapes of mothering.

Built-in-kitchen 2012

Her work encompasses sculpture, drawing, photography and performance and is firmly rooted in processes of making. As well as an individual practice, she is known for her collaborations with Irish and international artists and collectives; including Artists’ Campaign to Repeal the Eighth Amendment, Desperate Artwives, Grrrl Zine Fair and The Tellurometer Project.

La Befana – performance- 2016

The two disparate ways of working feed into one another and are therefore equally important parts of her practice. She is a founding member of pff Publications – a feminist zine and Outpost Studios an independent artist-led studio. Her work is held in public and private collections including the Collection of the Arts Council of Ireland, the National Museum of Ireland, the Wellcome Collection, U.K.and Goldsmiths Womens’Art Library, U.K.

Selected Images:

  1. Aprons of Power Performance – ACREA – Repeal 2018 (Homepage, featured image and below)
  2. The MotherHood 2015
  3. Built-in-kitchen 2012
  4. La Befana – performance 2016
Rachel Fallon and MAM with Helen Sargent
Categories
Birth Blog Education Featured Medical

Breastfeeding Education Might Not Be What You Think It Is

By Deann Shaffner

As a mother and La Leche League leader, I often hear stories from other mothers about their breastfeeding experience. The experiences they relay are often from their first few weeks after giving birth. Though every mother’s story is different, I have noticed an underlying issue many seem to face. I realize that many mothers, after leaving the hospital, are unsure of where to turn when they have difficulties with nursing.

The health care staff surrounding a mother during birth are extraordinary in their job. They care deeply about the well being of mommy and baby. But what happens when mom is about to nurse the baby and the newborn needs assistance? Each position of a health care provider during the mom’s transition from pregnancy to motherhood has an important role in assessing the overall health of the mother and the infant. Professionals are trained to prepare mothers for the birth process. However, when it comes to breastfeeding education, oftentimes things are left to chance. Why does this additional education matter? How do parents access information? These concerns usually surface once a mother is searching for help and she may receive a mix of confusing information; or sometimes, even though the mother is determined to breastfeed, she is given formula and told to use it to feed the baby.

Every breastfeeding experience is individualized and can be so very different. If breastfeeding is not working, a family can be forced to decide what is best for them and their child in the midst of a feeding crisis. There are many examples involving a new mother who is having nursing difficulties receiving conflicting information from a variety of well-intended sources. If her go-to people are the health-care providers she used for pregnancy and birth, and the information she needs to keep breastfeeding is not forthcoming, then she might not question the use of sample formula that was given to her upon her hospital release.

So, who has access to breastfeeding education? How much education is required? Why does it matter? Well, let’s start with OBGYNS and Midwives; I tried looking for an overall amount of hours in the breastfeeding education required during certification. I came across some articles that mentioned only a few hours of breastfeeding education were required. The basics are taught to assist the mother with the first latch. This education varies from state to state. Of course, as a patient, with breastfeeding-related questions, you can ask during your appointments with an OBGYN or Midwife, and they may direct you to a specialist in the field of lactation. After the birth of your baby, labor and delivery staff may also assist a mother with that first latch. Labor and delivery nurses are superheroes; however, they are not required to have any breastfeeding education when hired. Labor and delivery staff are encouraged to follow along certified lactation staff to gain more knowledge in helping mothers, and some hospitals provide basic breastfeeding education classes, twice a year to their employees, and also makes sure that staff watches the same breastfeeding videos they provide patients with.

If you notice your nurse is not able to address your needs with breastfeeding concerns, do not panic, they are doing their best to help you. You may also request a visit from a lactation consultant to get more in-depth information. Pediatricians, who see most of you and your baby, tend to get a lot of parents voicing breastfeeding concerns they also receive only a few hours of breastfeeding education. Again, they want what is best for your baby’s health, but it is your interest to find a lactation consultant to address potential nursing concerns.

A Certified Lactation Consultant has the most lactation education and a wealth of knowledge when it comes to breastfeeding. Getting help with breastfeeding, from a lactation consultant matters, since they have so many hours invested to become certified. From the International Board Certified Lactation Consultant (IBCLC) website, here is a list of 3 different pathways a person can take to become eligible to take the exam: “IBLCE provides 3 ways that candidates, health care professionals or non-health professionals, can obtain the required clinical practice in lactation and breastfeeding care:

Pathway 1 – Completing a minimum of 1000 hours of lactation specific clinical practice in an appropriate supervised setting within the 5 years immediately prior to examination application.

OR

Pathway 2 – Completing an accredited lactation academic program that includes at least 300 hours of directly supervised lactation specific clinical practice within the 5 years immediately prior to examination application.

OR

Pathway 3 – Completing an IBLCE-verified Pathway 3 Plan of at least 500 hours of directly supervised lactation specific clinical practice with an IBCLC as described in the Pathway 3 Plan Guide and obtained within the 5 years immediately prior to examination application.

Please note that personal experience breastfeeding your own children and experience helping family members and friends cannot be used to qualify for the IBCLC examination.” (1)

Another position in assisting a mother with breastfeeding is a Certified Lactation Counselor. This position allows one to receive an abundance of lactation education, but it is not as extensive as the IBCLC exam. To become a Certified Lactation Counselor, one must attend a 5-day course, more information on the curriculum is here: https://centerforbreastfeeding.org/wp-content/uploads/HCP_Spring_2020_Flyer.pdf

Other positions that include breastfeeding education and personal experience are Breastfeeding Peer Counselors and volunteering La Leche League Leaders, some areas also have support groups or local meetups for breastfeeding moms.

All the health care providers that assist a mother during pregnancy, birth and after birth want the best for mom and baby when it comes to health if you are not sure where to ask for help after having baby, speak up! A lot happens in a hospital setting after your birth, it is understandable to forget information, once you are home with baby, You can call the hospital you delivered at, a WIC office, insurance company, or see if a local moms group can help direct you towards a professional that may be able to assist you. Some websites such as this https://www.ilca.org/why-ibclc/falc may help you find a lactation consultant in your area.

Breastfeeding can be hard, but with the support of other mothers, and receiving assistance from a person who has had extensive education with lactation, there may be a better chance for you to reach your breastfeeding goals.

WANT MORE?

See one of MOM’s USF intern’s mosts on breastfeeding last semester with additional resources here.

Also, Kimberly Seals Allers, author of The Big Letdown which cites the economic and political influences of big business and breastfeeding in America, penned an OpEd citing multiple activists in the field including Museum of Motherhood founder, Martha Joy Rose in the  Washington Post – Read it here.

Image result for The Big Letdown

(1) Source: https://iblce.org/faqs-for-initial-candidates/

See Deann’s last blog on Gender Disappointment here.