The cultural ambivalence we see every Mothers Day about whether to celebrate this made up holiday (aren’t they all?) is probably a good reflection of the inherent ambivalence we humans have about mothers, mothering, being a mother, relating to our mothers, the whole deal.
We have the profound polarization between the perfection of the Madonna, the sacred, beloved, cherished mother, and the mother who is hated and murdered by her child, usually a son, in a rage of paralyzed dependency. Most of us, thankfully, muddle along somewhere in the middle, in affection, love, resentment, guilt, longing, and existential emptiness. It’s not for nothing that we have come to think of our planet as Mother Earth – if our treatment of our home planet doesn’t reflect ambivalence if not outright violence, well, there it is.
Think about it – those of us who are women have an unbroken female lineage of female experience going back countless millennia. Those of us who are male have of course the same lineage but are now the “other” vis a vis their mothers. The disconnect /connection conundrum is built into the human species. But you have to wonder what that kind of disconnect that otherness is for males – again, probably covering the spectrum of relief (“Out of her clutches!”) to rejection (“why doesn’t she love/take care of/cherish? me?”). I’d love to hear thoughtful comments on this by any guy who resonates with this idea. Myself, I have four brothers and two sons, giving me a front row seat in this drama. Ok, I’ve been on the stage but some days I’d rather be in the audience…. It’s a real mixed bag.
Among women, there is probably no other experience that occupies more time, worry, joy and discussion than motherhood. For those who have raised our own biological children, what more powerful and disorienting experience can there be than carrying this little alien invader in our bodies for nine months, then devoting just about every waking hour to their sustenance for however long that initial period lasts. Mothering grown children is a combined comedy/drama/horror/suspense flick.
For those mothers raising adopted or foster children, the experience and accompanying internal and societal issues are even more complex. Not “a real mother” indeed. And don’t get me started on what we do to women who for whatever reasons do not mother.
In American culture, we attempt to mother in profound isolation compared to the rest of the world. Norwegians have a saying that roughly translated says that the community owes tremendous support to new families {sic, not mothers} because they are after all raising the next generation on behalf of the larger society. Conversely, Americans seem to have the fewest resources and the highest and most unrealistic standards for motherhood. Jane Price’s groundbreaking book, Motherhood, What it Does to Your Minds, is a terrific resource for anyone who is interested in these ideas.