I’ll shoot it to you straight: you have to know who you are in this world, for real, before life starts lifeing. Before you wake up and realize you’ve moved across the country, married somebody’s son, had a baby (or babies), or quit your job on a random Tuesday to become a ceramicist in Portugal. Because if you don’t, this world — this culture — is going to take you for a ride that you never designed. And you’ll wake up finding every day, every decision, and every moment paralyzing.
Let me explain.
We’re living in the golden age of opinions, thanks to what I call “Feed Culture”. We open our phones and spend all day being fed opinions. Everybody’s got an idea of who other people should be. And, we love a good trope (i.e., “Black moms,” “bi-racial kid with white moms,” “pretty privileged,” “immigrant child,” “firstborn daughter,” etc., etc.). We come up with labels, and then sit back and judge every move people make based on whether it fits the title we’ve given them.
And the minute you have kids? The tropes start multiplying like the laundry you swore you’d keep up with. Suddenly, everybody from your auntie to your neighbor’s cousin who swore she’ll never have kids to the lady at Target (girl, why are you at Target?!) has a feeling about what a mother should be.
And the gag is, it actually does not matter what you do. Being defined as ‘mom’ means there’s a constant undercurrent of shame that society has for you. No matter what you do, it’s a shame to somebody.
The second that water breaks, people start running down the checklist to identify what part of it you should be ashamed of: Who’s her partner? Is he trash or a unicorn? And if he’s a unicorn, let’s wait for the shoe to drop, because no, he’s not. How much money does she have? Is she supposed to be hustling at the peak of her career? Or is she unambitious, waiting for That Man to take care of her? What’s her body looking like? And who is she turning into? Is that pregnancy hard on her? Why is she pregnant? Is she on antidepressants? Why can’t she just be happy? And if you’re not white? Multiply all that by a hundred.
Don’t believe me? Just watch how everyone acts:
Nobody tells you this, but the whole ‘mom’ identity is so stigmatized, you’d think we all just appeared out of thin air and didn’t actually come from one.
At my big age, I’m realizing there’s only one way to bypass all of this bullshit: Figure out who you are, for real, before the world tries to drown you out with its noise and hand you an identity you never asked for.
Because when I first had my son, I was so overwhelmed by all of the above that I did not trust any of the decisions I made. Nothing was God-fearing enough, involved enough, career-focused enough, or smart enough. I had no idea if working late meant I was being ungrateful for the blessing of children or if taking a sick day meant I was a lazy hoe waiting for a man to save me. I couldn’t take a date night or a girls’ trip without questioning if I was being male-centered or self-centered. Some women around me questioned my hair, and some men had reactions to my body. I wasn’t sure if I should be sweating it out in the gym or toning down the blonde to avoid giving my daughter a complex. People were shocked to see me buy myself a nice purse and equally outraged at the financial decisions I was making to empower my kids’ education. I was down bad y’all. Paralyzed because every decision was judged.
And online, the Internet was a bizarre symphony of people shaming others for having kids in this kind of world, or for having a relationship — let alone kids — with a man, period.
Amidst all of this, I spent a lot of time secretly wondering how many people remembered that for most of us, being ‘mom’ isn’t even the whole story. And the way we ‘mom’ is actually a reflection of who we are, individually.
Like, you may be a mom, yeah, but maybe you’re more identified with being a climate justice activist. So that’s why all your bottles are glass and not plastic.
Or, maybe you’ve always been about fitness, but you’re happier than ever about being three sizes up because thick was actually always your goal. So you really do not care to be on a GLP-1 and are down to your pre-baby weight.
And, damn, maybe you always wanted a love story that challenged you and made you grow, and you love that you had your kids right in the middle of that wild ride. So you have no shame in having two baby daddies.
All of this made me realize that you have to build your identity before the world tries to slap a name tag on you, and then wear it like you paid a lot for it. Relentlessly.
Otherwise, you’ll wake up making choices for the person you’re supposed to be, not the one you actually are. And that’s how you end up lost. Struggling with that thing they’re calling matrescence.
Before I realized this, I spent way too much time curating what kind of mother I should be based on the millions of labels and expectations. But the reality is, motherhood is not a curation. You’re an original.
So do yourself a favor, shorty. Take out the pen. And start writing your own narrative, now.