Mother’s Day: Remembering Our Mothers, Remembering Ourselves

Created with Microsoft Fresh Paint

I’ve been feeling quite emotional recently. When my youngest child starts school in September, the ‘early years’ will be behind us. I have to be honest: I wasn’t prepared for experiencing a feeling of loss at the prospect.

Friends and women in my family are having babies – and I am overjoyed for them. Some are becoming first-time mothers at the age when I am finishing up on pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding.

Naturally, we look back to the baby stage and how nothing prepares you for the reality of it all – not when we live our lives as ostensibly equal beings in a man’s world. Educated in all things and competing in all things as unencumbered, economically independent women.

A baby does have a habit of bringing that all back down to earth. We realise that birth is a feminist issue. That women’s power to nourish their babies on their bodies alone throughout pregnancy and breastfeeding has been veiled. That work done (reproduction, birth – labour, anyone? – breastfeeding) when it is exclusively female, and care work which is predominantly done by women, simply does not count and is not valued.

Motherhood is apt to leading to financial penalty throughout our lives and a higher risk of poverty in old age. We are forced to be dependent on men or the state if we want to care for our young children – or forced out to work to do our duty to the economic god in order to put food on the table. If we return to the workplace, we face a very clear and persistent penalty in pay, conditions and prospects of promotion. None of this is acceptable. It is the reason I started the Purplestockings movement and wrote Liberating Motherhood. It is why I support Mothers at Home Matter and All Mothers Work.

The least we could do for the women who reproduce the human race and nurture children in their vulnerability is to ensure that they are not hung out to dry alongside the muslins and babygros. We could recognise our interdependence and see that having children is not a lifestyle choice up there with keeping puppies. Our children are everyone’s children: the future of the human race. And caring for them? Someone has to (and many of us want to) do this valuable and essential work. Until we recognise the validity of mothers being free to do so without penalty, but with proper support, we will never achieve equality.

It starts with ourselves. Often from the very beginning. We might criticise ourselves for being tired in the first trimester and from that moment on, we might think we are failing in all matters of motherhood – ‘how hard can it be?’ Well, that’s a well kept secret. One which prevents us from demanding that women be treated better: to value what we bring to society and our children. It is not good enough to demand that men do more of the care work without also seeing a shift in how we value care and support it as a society through financial and community measures. Abolition of the family tax penalty is a start. A homecare allowance is another, as seen in Finland. A stop to tax and benefits measures which are compelling women to separate from their young children against their wishes is a must. We have to challenge patriarchal and capitalist values that freeload upon the work of mothers.

As I write this, I’m thinking how I would have done certain things differently had I known then what I know now: most importantly, to allow myself to stop, slow down and enjoy those days of ‘doing nothing’. When ‘doing nothing’ was growing my baby on my milk alone, caring for my baby night and day, holding my baby and nurturing new life. It took a while to shed the cultural skin that women should aspire to more than that, that we must be seen to be doing ‘something’ – whether it be cleaning while the baby sleeps (I should have slept), or shopping for food (I should have slept), or cooking (I should have slept), or going to the gym (I never did that). We are under increasing financial or social pressure to be returning to ‘work’ as though the work of raising children is not essential and demanding work of itself. When we care for our children we have not been handed a pretty wooden spoon, we are holding a fine china in our hands.

Right now, I am preparing for the next chapter in my life and I am returning to ‘owning’ a period of time during the day where it is me. Just me. No baby at the breast. No toddler tugging on my arm. No pre-schooler asking ten thousand questions a minute. Me. I’ve asked myself recently: ‘remember her?’ Of course I do. I’m right here.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mum.


Image credit:

On 8th of March, Go on Strike in Purplestockings for International Women’s Day


So International Women’s Day is on Wednesday next week 8 March.

There are a number of International actions taking place. It is a day where our protests and our demands could be heard, in a supportive sisterhood and day of action.

I’ll be going on strike. I’ll be wearing Purple Stockings. I’ll be posting online.

I will be going to Parliament Square from about 10.30.

At 12 I will be going to a speakout in Old Palace Yard (

If anyone wants to join me, let me know.

If you can’t make it to London, then find something however big or small that you can do and make a noise in public or at home.

If you can’t completely down tools, find a window of time in the day where you can. Whatever you can decline, decline. Big or small, make a noise in public and online. The time is now.


#MothersOfTheWorldUnite #Purplestockings #LiberatingMotherhood #ValueCare

Mothers and Pregnant People

The British Medical Association is following the Midwives Alliance of North America’s step (criticised in this open letter) last year in suggesting that pregnant women – expectant mothers – should be called ‘pregnant people’. See here for the BMA literature.
I addressed this issue in Liberating Motherhood in my chapter on birth. I wrote this: “are losing our village of wisdom and womanly experience about birthing. Are we starting to lose our language of birth? Are we as women losing something: a right to name ourselves, our condition or our needs? For what? For whom? Why? What are the implications? How do we feel? Do these things matter? Of course they do. And we have the right to say so.” 
In response to this BMA policy, it has to be said: It is extremely rare – vastly statistically insignificant – for transmen to become pregnant. In the extremely rare case of transmen becoming pregnant, it is directly because of their biological and physiologically female capability to bear children. It goes without saying that no transwoman has ever become pregnant: because they are biologically male.
*One born every minute, as they say. To women. To mothers.
*One born once in a blue moon to a transman, yet, according to the BMA, this somehow justifies fundamental change in the language of birth and maternity to ‘pregnant people’ so as not to offend those who do not identify as women or mothers.
This is not OK.
By all means refer to individuals with language that is respectful and courteous in their individual circumstances. The importance of compassionate and humane care in pregnancy and birth is at the cornerstone of maternal feminism. A transman is no less deserving of this compassionate care.
However, that does not justify the change in language to describe the near total majority historically and presently of pregnant and birthing mothers as ‘pregnant people’. Many women fight hard to become mothers. Not pregnant ‘patients’ (we are not ill). Not pregnant *people*. We are *mothers*.
The day it is deemed bigoted, hateful or exclusionary to say so, we will have lost more than simply the right to speak. In the political climate, our reproductive rights are precarious indeed.
For myself, I had never feel fully at ease with my body, nor fully reconciled with the power and beauty of the female body, until I became pregnant and gave birth. Becoming a mother has been of life-changing importance to me. I will not apologise for that and I am sad to think that many women will feel under pressure not to claim the word which they deserve and which is their right. A word which somehow links us with our maternal ancestors and our maternal sisters: ‘mother’.
It is also disrespectful not to acknowledge the woman at the heart of something so sex-specific (maternity) and it fails women not to wholly celebrate the power of women in pregnancy and birth. Whilst we are expected to be fully considerate of the feelings of individuals who do not identify as women, one has to wonder at what point did the BMA stop to consider the feelings of those women to whom the word ‘mother’ is unspeakably important.
Importantly, too, language matters in wider issues of policy. In policy, if women are not named, if mothers are not named, we can easily lose sight that policies are affecting women, potentially disproportionately. Maternal mortality, for example, is something which directly involves mothers. Not people. Not men. Not males. It is a peculiarly female risk: injury or death through childbirth. To suggest that pregnancy and birth is something which somehow affects people -not females – is double-think, anti-women, anti-feminist and highly suspect.
See here Julie Bindel’s excellent commentary on this:

In particular, she wrote, “…women are angry and upset about the erasure of their identities to the point where they are being told it is transphobic to even use the correct language to describe our reproductive systems.

Accusing us of bigotry for telling the truth is a new way of attacking the advancement of women – only this time those doing the attacking are being supported by the very organisations that should know better.” 

Amen to that.

Image credit:

The Looks on their Faces and the Festive Gift of Disappointment


Aright. I’m a sucker for Christmas. I love the wooden Advent calendar. I adore dressing the tree with the kids. I melt when they sing Away in a Manger. Cor blimey, they’re just lovely.

It’s the look on their faces that gets me. The magic. The anticipation. The innocence. The joy! But this year, I sprinkled something left-field. Disappointment.

We don’t do the Elf on that Shelf (I could launch into how the damned Imp is a manifestation of greater and greater extraction of unwaged female emotional labour at Christmas time. How an old bearded white dude gets all the credit for hours of toil, thought and effort of mothers around the world. But I’ll spare you).

No. This year, they had a dose of festive disappointment when the ‘elves’ didn’t bring a sweet for the Advent calendar one morning*.

But it’s ok. I improvised.

Lucky you! You got the gift of giving!

When the elves don’t put a sweet in the box, that’s your cue, sweet children. Go fetch a toy or a book or a game that you no longer play with. And think about how some children don’t have very much. 

What? You mean you can’t possibly choose something? You mean you love all your things so much? You want to start playing with that plastic thing for the first time in 15 months? 

Well, my children, you’ve had the gift of gratitude, then, too. 

It took an hour, but they got there in the end. I’m going to make this a festive ‘thing’ each year.

Merry Christmas everyone x

*I fell asleep on the sofa. Then stumbled to bed without dutifully placing Christmas-themed icing sweets behind door number 16. Parenting fail #623


Liberating Motherhood, Birthing the Purplestockings Movement is out now.


Christmas tree image credit:

The Question of Maternal Loneliness. The Answer is Connection.

Lonely leaves don't get to ride the carousel
Over the past couple of days I’ve posted about the issue of isolation and lack of support of mothers.
Channel 4 has prepared a documentary about loneliness. And becoming a new mother is up there.
I will say this. There are struggles when we become mothers. Our ‘seat’ may have been in a city away from our homes – so when we have babies, we are thrust into a social environment where we know n.o.b.o.d.y.
We may not have family locally. Our partner is ‘out at work’. Children’s centres are closing. Pressure is on to ‘get back to normal’ and ‘get back to work’. More of our contemporaries are doing just that.
The fact is, becoming a mother is a life-changing event for many women. We deserve a period of recovery in which we are nurtured, in the ‘fourth trimester’ for the benefit of our babies and ourselves.
Yet, many of us are left in the immediate care of a male partner who, quite frankly, will have not a clue about what we have been through. Neither of us may be familiar with the intimate and relentlessness of caring for a tiny babe. We may be struggling to breastfeed. We may well be carrying physical and/or emotional wounds from labour.
And it is a big one.
It shouldn’t be this way. We are not supposed to do this alone. However, this is usually translated to ‘we are not supposed to do this – hand the care over to someone else’.
Post-partum support of mothers, and skilled breastfeeding support and sensitive compassionate care of new mothers is shown to reduce the rates of post-partum depression. If we feel that we are ‘part’ instead of ‘separate’ from the ‘real world’, that would be a start. If we have a circle of practical and emotional support around us, that would be justice.
For many, being a mother is not oppressive. It is the conditions in which we are expected to mother which can make it so. Financial pressures, social pressures and isolation and lack of support.
Once I found ‘my tribe’ my sense of shell shock eased. Over time, I have found a real vibrant, supportive, accepting and warm circle around me. It wasn’t until I became a mother that I experienced such connection beyond my immediate family and close friends. And I am grateful for that. It has made a difference to me. I know that I am not alone in feeling that way. Motherhood has relieved something in me – individualism.
Loneliness in our modern culture is not a symptom of motherhood. It is a symptom of disconnection. We thrive in communities. Women can thrive in the company of supportive women. We all need to be cared for at some point. New mothers are no exception.
Liberating Motherhood, Birthing the Purplestockings Movement, is out now from Womancraft. Get your copy online or from lucky indie bookshops.
Image credit:

Raising Our Voices, Raising Our Children


On Thursday, I had the privilege of speaking at the Mothers At Home Matter 25th Anniversary Conference about Liberating Motherhood. I was touched by the warm reception I received.

It was so wonderful to have my mum and my daughter there too. I don’t think I’ll forget seeing my three year old daughter’s face, watching and listening to her mother speak about the importance of mothering, children and mothers. Just as my son had shown pride in his mother at my book launch, my daughter seemed intrigued to see her mother stand in front of a microphone and speak to an audience in London, away from home. As I say in the book, hearing our mothers’ stories is a feminist act. Telling our own is another.

It was wonderful to connect with other mothers, some at a similar stage of life, others of different generations and life circumstances. Thank you to the Committee for inviting and welcoming me to the Conference. I am so grateful to you for your support.  I so admire your work and dedication.

Since the conference, I have been busy with family commitments, breastfeeding support and the (recently quite intense) daily needs of my young children – the irony – and so it has taken a while to sit down to write. I have also been trying to digest recent media delight in deriding the care of mothers at home. We are failing our children, you know, by failing to promote their development in absolutely crucial things like holding a pencil.

We have an uphill struggle.

No one of us can promote the issue of maternal care alone. Join and support Mothers at Home Matter, join the Purplestockings Movement, join All Mothers Work, engage with campaigning groups and speak out beyond sympathetic ears. We need to be heard. We need to raise our voices.

Since starting my own campaigning and writing – together with my commitments in my local community as a breastfeeding counsellor in person, on the phone and online – I have had to confront the question of how to limit the intrusion of social media and screens into my day-to-day life with my family and how to limit writing and reading during ‘family time’. How to restrict online activity, comfortably miss online debates on news and articles or the opportunity to share pieces of interest, or keep up with messages and notifications. I sometimes feel guilty for being absent from threads, neglecting to respond to tags or for failing to post more regularly about the issue of mothers. However, in truth, we can only do what we can do.

On reflection, writing and promoting the book took a huge amount of time and energy and I put a huge part of myself into it. It was a vulnerable and exhausting process. Now that the book is born, I need to give myself permission to rest, recuperate and recover. A kind of literary post-partum period.

I am hoping that the book will take on a life of its own, too. Those of you who are reading it, please take it out there, spread the word and share passages, photos of pages, whatever you feel speaks to you. A movement needs momentum!

My book satisfied part of my need to be heard. I will still raise my voice when I have the time or irresistible need, online or at events. I am also looking forward to a secondary campaign nearer Mother’s Day – with some wonderful events coming up where I will be speaking about the book and meeting mothers in different parts of the country.

In the meantime, motherhood awaits. It is, and always will be, family first. The Purplestockings Movement starts at home after all.


Image credit: