My ultimate goal in life is to be a good mother. This may
sound disappointingly anti-climatic to many. Some might ask, so all that
schooling I'm still doing is simply in preparation for dealing with
soiled diapers and teenage tantrums? If I were not liable to color things as I
often do, then the simple answer is yes, for me, all roads lead to diapers and
fits.
Unfortunately, being a woman/girl (that awkward stage that lasts until approximately 30, given that there is no female equivalent of "guy") of few words is not my forte, so I am compelled by nature to explain why I would have such a humdrum purpose in life and why I would be thinking about this of all things, when I have barely made past 500 words of an 8000 words essay.
Gender studies, as far as I've been exposed to, often groups women into a homogenous block. This makes sense to an extent: gender is about the line dividing men and women - and unfortunately in many instances this tends towards violence, injustice, silent and open oppression, suppression, repression, subjugation, and so on, of men against/over women. But women are not homogenous, and indeed, there is already some discussion about this regarding the North/South divide and the emancipation of women in the North from domestic duties by the import of cheap female labor from the South. Conflict between women goes deeper than that, however. Women fight, hate, annoy and mess with other women. Women have found it difficult to cooperate historically[1], psychologically perceive themselves to be the inferior sex[2], and tend to identify with smaller social units[3]; interracial and class conflict is common[4], particularly with the domestic worker vs. employer interaction; women often find themselves becoming obsequious to a male dominated and dictated order, in the process, becoming “part of the system” and furthering the subjugation of women, sometimes even more vehemently and successfully than men. And then there is something all too close to home: daughter and mother-in-law quibbles. (This phenomena actually isn’t as ubiquitous as I thought. Apparently, in Serbian culture, the mother and daughter-in-law are expected to be the best of friends.) Mothers project themselves onto their daughters to the latters’ detriment, and conditions related to self-esteem such as eating disorders are often perpetuated by these psychological games[5].
Ah, the mother connection. I recall now where I was going with this. A mother is pivotal; she models how her daughter will relate to other people, and motherhood for girls, as the direct pedagogical relationship (as opposed to the indirect sort, such as watching how one’s mother relates to one’s father) is so profoundly more potent, because it models how a girl will relate to other women, including her very self. Motherhood is where empowerment for women begins. You can find extremely motivated, articulate and focused young women coming from the most disadvantageous of backgrounds, doing something powerful for their community, because they were empowered by their mothers. And then you find perfectly privileged young women like me who relentlessly doubt themselves and therefore achieve nothing more than a mildly rebellious and visually stimulating Facebook profile.
I desperately search for a female role model. I have come to fear that this is a mere play of mental tricks with myself, to will myself away from what I secretly think will inexorably be the case – becoming my mother. I hold nothing against my mother as a person, but as a mother? There are fatalistic, malevolent, petrified and neurotic dispositions in me that I recognize as those fostered and magnified by my mother, dispositions that predictably flourish in unstable, unguided and psychologically manipulative environments. What else grows in a state of damnation? I am often perceived as perpetually happy or at the very least, enduringly excitable; but you see, dear faceless spectators, all else feels like weakness, as if I’ve given in to my demons and I’m going to spread misery like my mother and therefore, become my mother, as prophesied.
I think I will work on this post a little more, later, but the gist is this: there were a lot of lessons learnt this weekend. I am not as patient and kind as I want to be. I cannot mother someone for more than half a day at a time. Once I get to know someone I inevitably see them through mothering eyes and so I cannot see their faults but only mine. I hold myself responsible for how others feel, always, and therefore I hate that I am not more patient and kind. I have more inner struggles than external courses of action, and this is pathetic.
Unfortunately, being a woman/girl (that awkward stage that lasts until approximately 30, given that there is no female equivalent of "guy") of few words is not my forte, so I am compelled by nature to explain why I would have such a humdrum purpose in life and why I would be thinking about this of all things, when I have barely made past 500 words of an 8000 words essay.
Gender studies, as far as I've been exposed to, often groups women into a homogenous block. This makes sense to an extent: gender is about the line dividing men and women - and unfortunately in many instances this tends towards violence, injustice, silent and open oppression, suppression, repression, subjugation, and so on, of men against/over women. But women are not homogenous, and indeed, there is already some discussion about this regarding the North/South divide and the emancipation of women in the North from domestic duties by the import of cheap female labor from the South. Conflict between women goes deeper than that, however. Women fight, hate, annoy and mess with other women. Women have found it difficult to cooperate historically[1], psychologically perceive themselves to be the inferior sex[2], and tend to identify with smaller social units[3]; interracial and class conflict is common[4], particularly with the domestic worker vs. employer interaction; women often find themselves becoming obsequious to a male dominated and dictated order, in the process, becoming “part of the system” and furthering the subjugation of women, sometimes even more vehemently and successfully than men. And then there is something all too close to home: daughter and mother-in-law quibbles. (This phenomena actually isn’t as ubiquitous as I thought. Apparently, in Serbian culture, the mother and daughter-in-law are expected to be the best of friends.) Mothers project themselves onto their daughters to the latters’ detriment, and conditions related to self-esteem such as eating disorders are often perpetuated by these psychological games[5].
Ah, the mother connection. I recall now where I was going with this. A mother is pivotal; she models how her daughter will relate to other people, and motherhood for girls, as the direct pedagogical relationship (as opposed to the indirect sort, such as watching how one’s mother relates to one’s father) is so profoundly more potent, because it models how a girl will relate to other women, including her very self. Motherhood is where empowerment for women begins. You can find extremely motivated, articulate and focused young women coming from the most disadvantageous of backgrounds, doing something powerful for their community, because they were empowered by their mothers. And then you find perfectly privileged young women like me who relentlessly doubt themselves and therefore achieve nothing more than a mildly rebellious and visually stimulating Facebook profile.
I desperately search for a female role model. I have come to fear that this is a mere play of mental tricks with myself, to will myself away from what I secretly think will inexorably be the case – becoming my mother. I hold nothing against my mother as a person, but as a mother? There are fatalistic, malevolent, petrified and neurotic dispositions in me that I recognize as those fostered and magnified by my mother, dispositions that predictably flourish in unstable, unguided and psychologically manipulative environments. What else grows in a state of damnation? I am often perceived as perpetually happy or at the very least, enduringly excitable; but you see, dear faceless spectators, all else feels like weakness, as if I’ve given in to my demons and I’m going to spread misery like my mother and therefore, become my mother, as prophesied.
I think I will work on this post a little more, later, but the gist is this: there were a lot of lessons learnt this weekend. I am not as patient and kind as I want to be. I cannot mother someone for more than half a day at a time. Once I get to know someone I inevitably see them through mothering eyes and so I cannot see their faults but only mine. I hold myself responsible for how others feel, always, and therefore I hate that I am not more patient and kind. I have more inner struggles than external courses of action, and this is pathetic.
----
1. Lena Sommestad Florin and Ulla Wikander, eds. Kvinnor
mot kvinnor: Om systerskapets svårigheter. (Women against women: On the
troubled sisterhood). (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1999).
2. Philip Goldberg, “Are women prejudiced against women?” Trans-action
5, no. 5 (1968).
3. R.F. Baumeister and K.L Sommer,
K.L, “What do men want? Gender differences
and the two spheres of belongingness,” Psychological Bulletin 122
(1997).
4. Darlene Clark Hine, Black women in white: Racial
conflict and cooperation in the nursing profession, 1890-1950. (Indiana
University Press, 1989).
5. Eric van Furth et. al. “Expressed emotion and the
prediction of outcome in adolescent eating disorders,” International Journal
of Eating Disorders 20, no.1 (1996). See also Kathleen M. Pike and Judith
Rodin, “Mothers, daughters, and disordered eating,” Journal of Abnormal
Psychology 100, no. 2 (1991).
