Mothers, Mothering and Motherhood Across Cultural Differences: A Reader 1927335396, 9781927335390

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Mothers, Mothering and Motherhood Across Cultural Differences: A Reader

Copyright © 2014 Demeter Press Individual copyright to their work is retained by the authors. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means without permission in writing from the publisher.

The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for its publishing program. Demeter Press logo based on the sculpture “Demeter” by Maria-Luise Bodirsky

Original Cover Art “Tenderly” by Cheryl Braganza (2009) Printed and Bound in Canada. Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Mothers, mothering and motherhood across cultural differences: a reader/ edited by Andrea O’Reilly. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-1-927335-39-0 (pbk.) 1. Motherhood–Cross-cultural studies. 2. Mothers– Cross-cultural studies. I. O’Reilly, Andrea, 1961-, editor HQ759.M92 2014

306.874’3

Demeter Press 140 Holland Street West P. O. Box 13022 Bradford, ON L3Z 2Y5 Tel: (905) 775-9089 Email: [email protected] Website: www.demeterpress.org

C2014-902319-7

Table of Contents

Dedications

vii

Introduction Andrea O’Reilly

1

1

Aboriginal Mothering: Honouring the Past, Nurturing the Future Jennifer Brant

2

Adoptive Mothers-Mothering Jennifer Katz and Emily Hunt

3

Recomposing Maternal Identities: Mothering Young Adult Children Jenny Jones

65

4

African American Mothering: “Home is Where the Revolution Is” Andrea O’Reilly

93

5

Birth Mothers Claudia Corrigan D’Arcy

119

6

Disabled Mothers Gloria Filax and Dena Taylor

143

7 41

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

7

Mothering in East Asian Communities: Challenges and Possibilities Patti Duncan and Gina Wong

8

Feminist Mothering Andrea O’Reilly

183

9

Mothers on the Move: Immigrant and Refugee Mothers Julia E. Curry Rodríguez

207

10 Representing and Transforming Latina/Chicana Mothering Dorsía Smith Silva

229

11 Migrant Mothers: Distant Mothering by Choice, Motherly Loss by Force Shu Ju Ada Cheng

161

255

12 Non-Resident Mothers: Refining Our Understandings Diana L. Gustafson

273

13 Older Mothers: Trendy and Stigmatized Karin Sardadvar

299

14 Mothering in Poverty Heather Jackson

323

15 Queer Mothering and the Question of Normalcy Margaret F. Gibson

347

16 Rural Mothers Ellen Buck-McFadyen

367

17 Her Cape is at the Cleaners: Searching for Single Motherhood in a Culture of Self-Sufficiency Elizabeth Bruno

385

18 Contextualizing South Asian Motherhood Jasjit K. Sangha

413

19 Stay-At-Home Mothers Elizabeth Reid Boyd and Gayle Letherby

429

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

20 Step Mothers Patrycja Sosnowska-Buxton

451

21 Working Mothers: Performing Economic and Gender Ideologies Roberta Guerrina

467

22 Young Mothers and the Age-Old Problems of Sexism, Racism, Classism, Family Dysfunction and Violence Deborah L. Byrd

487

23 Contributors’ Biographies

507

v

Dedications

To the Mother Outlaws of Demeter Press Lyndsay Kirkham Angie Deveau Sharon Marks Luciana Ricciutelli Nicole Doro Tracey Carlyle Kaley Ames Adrienne Ryder

vii

Introduction

ANDREA O’REILLY In the introduction to Until Our Hearts are on the Ground: Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth Aboriginal scholar and activist Memee Lavell-Harvard, when discussing the cultural difference and specificity of Aboriginal mothering, shares with the reader a memory from her own childhood as a young Aboriginal girl growing up in the 1970s in Canada: According to my father, I once claimed that “I did not have the mother I would prefer.” She regularly sent me to school with sandwiches of moose meat or venison or partridge on fried bread. I longed for the normalcy of peanut butter and jam on white bread....My mother’s food choices and preparation methods were always out of sync with those promoted by Betty Crocker and Uncle Ben. Not only did my mother grow all of our own vegetables, raising our own pork, poultry and on occasion a side of beef or two (while the other families bought theirs at the store in colourful packages) but she and my father insisted on doing so organically. While the indignity of eating homegrown organic foods was enormous, worse still was the fact that in an era when babies were being fed scientifically-fortified infant formula in sterilized bottles my mother went about breastfeeding. We did not even had a ‘pen’ for the baby to ‘play’ in. and I am sure none of us were “Ferberized.” People were amazed we survived at all. (3) 1

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She goes on to write: “Clearly we were different. We were ‘not white’ and it showed” (3). Indeed, as Lavell-Harvard emphasizes, “If (aboriginal peoples) have nothing else in common, we share the experience of being different from (and often fundamentally opposed to) the dominant culture, which has a significant impact on our ability to mother as we see fit, according to our own values and traditions. The Aboriginal mother who adheres too closely to her traditions has historically found it difficult, if not impossible, to meet the standards of the ‘good mother’ as set out by the dominant patriarchal culture” (2). I open the introduction to this Reader on Mothers, Mothering and Motherhood Across Cultural Differences with Memee’s reminiscences as they illustrate well how pervasive the normative ideology of the “good mother” is and how thoroughly it can distort and pervert our own experiences of mothering and being mothered. I remember only too well the many times my now grown children were bullied and ostracized for being ‘different’ as a result of their feminist upbringing in our rural and conservative community. Only last month, I overheard my youngest daughter, now 24, sharing a memory of being taunted and excluded by her grade two classmates and told that “she would go to hell” when they learned that her parents were not married, and that she had not been baptized. But she also remembered, as she continued with her story, me, her mother, going to the school the next day demanding that the teacher of this grade two classroom give a lesson on difference and acceptance which I am pleased to say she did. The aim of this Reader is offer a similar “lesson”: to demonstrate and celebrate the diversity of mothers and mothering that are denied in, and by, normative images and narratives of ‘good’ motherhood. For the past twenty years I have taught a third year Women’s Studies course on Mothering and Motherhood that examines how patriarchal motherhood is oppressive to women and how women may resist such through empowered mothering. Each year I open the course asking students to describe the “good” mother in contemporary culture: What does a good mother look like; who is she? Students comment that good mothers, as portrayed in the media or popular culture more generally, are white, heterosexual, married, middle to upper class, able-bodied, suburban, thirtysomething, apolitical, in a nuclear family with one to two young children to whom she is biologically related and ideally is a full time, stay-at-home mother. I then ask how many in the room are ‘good’ mothers as defined by these normative images of motherhood (or if they are not mothers themselves, were they raised by this so-called ideal mother). Seldom has a hand 2

INTRODUCTION

been raised. Of course we know that mothers come from all races and ethnicities, that mothers are both young and old, that mothers are both urban and rural, straight and queer, partnered and single, that many women mother with disabilities, that many mothers are poor or working class, that most mothers work outside the home in paid employment, that social and political activism is a part of many mothers’ lives, that women mother older children as well as young children, that some mothers live apart from their children, that many women raise children with whom they have no biological relation as with adoption and in blended families and finally that all these mothers are good mothers who raise their children with love and care equal to that of the normative/idealized ‘good’ mother. However, we also know that normative motherhood, while representative of very few women’s lived identities and experiences of mothering, is considered the normal and natural maternal experience: to mother otherwise, is to be abnormal or unnatural. Mothers who, by choice or circumstance, do not fulfill the profile of the good mother, they are too young or too old, or do not follow the script of good mothering—they work outside the home, live apart from their children—are deemed ‘bad’ mothers in need of societal regulation and correction. This book, the first-ever Reader on Mothers, Mothering, and Motherhood Across Cultural Differences, includes twenty-two chapters representing the following maternal identities, organized in alphabetical order: Aboriginal, Adoptive, Mothers of Adult-Children, African-American, Birth, Disabled, East-Asian, Feminist, Immigrant/Refuge, Latina/Chicana, Poor/Low Income, Migrant, Non-Residential, Older, Queer, Rural, Single, South-Asian, Stay-at-Home, Step, Working, Young. Each chapter provides background and context, examines the challenges and possibilities of mothering/motherhood for each group of mothers, and considers directions for future research. The collection represents a wide and diverse range of maternal perspectives and practices, and seeks to ‘talk back’ to the normative discourse of good motherhood; challenging, resisting, and dismantling its monolithic definition and representation of “good” motherhood. Elsewhere, I have argued that normative motherhood is informed and maintained by ten ideological assumptions that cause mothering to be oppressive to women, which I have termed the essentialization, privatization, individualization, naturalization, normalization, idealization, bioligicalization, expertization, intensification, and depoliticalization of motherhood (O’Reilly, “Matricentric Pedagogy, and Maternal Empowerment”). Essentialization positions maternity as basic to, and the basis of, female identity, 3

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while privatization locates motherwork solely in the reproductive realm of the home. Similarly, individualization causes such mothering to be the work and responsibility of one person and naturalization assumes that maternity is natural to women, all women naturally ‘know how to mother,’ and that the work of mothering is driven by instinct rather than intelligence, and developed by habit rather than skill. In turn, normalization limits and restricts maternal identity and practice to one specific mode, that of nuclear family, wherein the mother is a wife to a husband, and she assumes the role of the nurturer, while the husband assumes that of the provider. Bioligicalization, in its emphasis on blood ties, positions the birth mother as the ‘real’ and authentic mother. The expertization and intensification of motherhood, particularly as they are conveyed in what Hays has termed “intensive mothering,” and what Michaels and Douglas call “the new momism,” cause childrearing to be all-consuming and expert-driven. Finally, idealization sets unattainable expectations of and for mothers, while depoliticalization characterizes childrearing solely as a private, non-political undertaking with no social or political import. This collection, in examining mothering/motherhood across a wide range of maternal perspectives, seeks to challenge and change these ideological imperatives of normative motherhood by foregrounding alternative, non-normative practices and meanings of motherwork that often serve to empower mothers. African American mothering, for example, challenges the individualization of normative motherhood in its practice of other and communal mothering as do Queer mothers in their practice of co-mothering. Step and Adoptive Mothering resist the biologization of normative motherhood while Non-Residential and Migrant mothers oppose its privitization by mothering their children across households and families. Immigrant, Rural, Poor mothers, as well as mothers from racialized identities—East and South Asian, Chicana—often disregard the intensification of Western and middle-class mothering practices while Working mothers often refute its essentialism and naturalization by sharing parenting with their male partners. Aboriginal Mothering likewise contests its expertization in its reliance on traditional beliefs and practices of motherwork while Feminist mothering negates its depoliticalization in its view of maternal practice as a socially/politically engaged enterprise and a site of power wherein mothers can and do affect social change, both in the home through feminist childrearing and outside the home through maternal activism. And all the chapters in this Reader challenge the normalization of patriarchal motherhood in their refusal to restrict maternal identity and 4

INTRODUCTION

practice to one specific mode or model. In my work I argue that patriarchy resists non-normative mothering precisely because it understands its real power to bring about a true and enduring cultural revolution. Researchers agree that motherhood, as it is currently perceived and practiced in patriarchal societies, is disempowering if not oppressive for a multitude of reasons: namely, the societal devaluation of motherwork, the endless tasks of privatized mothering and the impossible standards of idealized motherhood. However, what I have discovered in my many years of teaching and researching motherhood is that while normative motherhood oppresses women, non-normative mothering serves to empower women. Non-normative mothers, whether they be defined and categorized as such by age, race, sexuality, or biology, can never be the ‘good’ mothers of normative motherhood so they must rely on and develop non-patriarchal practices of mothering to raise their children. Such practices whether they be the shared parenting of working mothers, the comothering, communal/other mothering of Aboriginal, African-American, Queer mothers, the extended family households of Chicana, East and South Asian mothering, the maternal activism of Feminist mothers, fictive kin of Step Mothers, all challenge and change the various ways that the lived experiences of patriarchal motherhood causes mothering to be limiting or oppressive to women. The many non-normative mothering practices listed above and described in full throughout the chapters that follow, often make mothering more rewarding, if not empowering for women, because these non-normative mothers seldom mother alone or in isolation as they would in patriarchal motherhood and the work and responsibility of mothering is seldom solely that of the biological mother (again as would be mandated in patriarchal motherhood). This is not to say that non-normative mothering is always rewarding or empowering, but rather it is to emphasize that non-normative mothers who, by choice or circumstance, cannot be the ‘good’ mothers of patriarchal motherhood must imagine and implement non-patriarchal mothering practices that in their very otherness open up new possibilities for mothering. Lavell-Harvard concludes the chapter cited above with these words: We, as Aboriginals, have always been different, we have always existed on the margins of the dominant patriarchal culture, and as mothers we have operated outside of, if not in actual 5

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opposition to, their definition of acceptability. We are to use the words of Adrienne Rich, the original mother outlaw (qtd in O’Reilly Rocking 35). (6) I would suggest that these words are equally applicable to the many and diverse mothers presented in this Reader: in operating outside, if not in actual opposition to, normative motherhood, these mothers in their very unacceptability show us more acceptable ways to mother and be mothered. WORKS CITED Douglas, Susan J., and Meredith Michaels. The Mommy Myth: The Idealization of Motherhood and How it Has Undermined Women. New York: Free Press, 2004. Hays, Sharon. The Cultural Contradictions of Motherhood. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996. Lavell-Harvard, D. Memee and Jeannettee Corbiere Lavell. Until Our Hearts are on the Ground: Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth. Bradford, Ontario: Demeter Press, 2006. O’Reilly, Andrea. Rocking the Cradle: Thoughts on Motherhood, Feminism, and the Possibility of Empowered Mothering. Bradford, Ontario: Demeter Press, 2006. O’Reilly, Andrea. “‘It Saved My Life:’ The National Association of Mother Centres, Matricentric Pedagogy, and Maternal Empowerment.” Journal of the Motherhood Initiative. Volume 4, Number 1 (2013): 185-209.

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1. Aboriginal Mothering Honouring the Past, Nurturing the Future

JENNIFER BRANT

INTRODUCTION She:kon, Jennifer Brant Ionkiats. Kenhté:ke nitewaké:non tanon Kanien’kehá:ka ni’ ni:’i. Wakeniáhton ó:ni. (Hello, my name is Jennifer Brant. I am from the Mohawk Nation with family ties to Tyendinaga Mohawk Territory and Six Nations of the Grand River Territory). In honour of Aboriginal ways of contextualizing knowledge, I begin by introducing myself in this manner to honour my ancestors who support me throughout my journey as a mother, an academic and a writer. I also share this to place myself in connection with the readers of this chapter. As a Yakonkwehón:we (Mohawk woman), and mother of two young boys, I am honoured to contribute to this reader on mothering and motherhood by offering my understandings of Aboriginal Mothering.1 It is a balance of both the personal experience I can share as a mother of two boys, along with the knowledge I have gained through my research and work with other Aboriginal mothers that I will share in the following sections. BACKGROUND AND CONTEXT Given that a large component of my Master’s thesis focused on Indigenous ideologies of mothering, and advocated for culturally relevant pedagogy 7

JENNIFER BRANT

that embraced the mothering roles of Aboriginal women in the university setting, my thesis supervisor asked me about my own experience of learning how to be, and what it meant to be, an Aboriginal mother. It was a question that I certainly could not answer right away, and so it left me with something to reflect upon. In writing this chapter, I found that I kept coming back to this question and my subsequent reflections. Now well into my PhD, as I continue to learn new lessons about my own Aboriginal mothering my thoughts on what Aboriginal mothering is continues to expand and shift. My supervisor wanted to know if Aboriginal mothering was something I learned in my own experience as an Aboriginal girl, or was it something ingrained and instinctive that derived from a deeper sense of knowing and being. I wondered, Was it part of my blood memory? or Was it an instinctive ‘sense of being’ echoing the maternal energies that guide my spirit? (Acoose). Through reflection, I realized that my professor posed an interesting and very complex question considering much of the loss Indigenous communities have suffered, especially when it comes to mothering, as a result of residential schooling and continued child apprehension. Not only did residential schools have an impact on the children in the schools, along with the families who lost their right to parent their own children, but it also had a traumatic impact on parent-child relationships that is now widely acknowledged as the intergenerational trauma of the residential school system (Ing; Smith, Varcoe & Edwards). Any understanding of Indigenous parenting would be incomplete without deconstructing the impact of colonization on Indigenous mothers, families, and communities today. Collectively and individually Indigenous women have had to resist what Janice Acoose refers to as the whiteeurocanadian-christian-patriarchal (weccp) institutions, and seek out ways to reclaim our identities as Indigenous mothers. Also of consideration is what Indigenous mothering means today, and how has it changed from a time when women were revered for their roles as mothers (Cull) and honoured as the life-givers of our future generations (Anderson) to a time when Aboriginal women have become “unquestionably the most oppressed members of our society” (Lavell-Harvard & Corbiere Lavell 4). Indigenous peoples have always adapted overtime to survive and flourish in their physical and social environment. The same can be said of Indigenous mothering presently. Aboriginal women have certainly adapted to survive and have had to work hard to maintain their roles as mothers fighting against numerous odds that I discuss throughout the chapter. Part of 8

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that survival is to resist the colonial forces that historically and presently attack Aboriginal mothering and to reclaim the mothering roles that governed traditional pre-contact societies. It was not only these complexities that left me feeling inadequate or unqualified to respond to such an inquiry. I also wondered, who am I to write about such a large and diverse group of women, especially when I am on my own decolonizing journey as an Aboriginal woman and mother? Kim Anderson shares her own story as a new mom attempting to learn more about “Indigenous mothering” and “traditional Native parenting,” pointing out “there were no books on this in the parenting section of my local bookstore, or at any of the specialty Indigenous booksellers.” She advises “as with most traditional knowledge, the place to go looking was among older women who were able to speak about their own experience and the knowledge they had gained from oral tradition” (Brant & Anderson 202). Anderson continues by pointing out that there is not “some kind of neat package” that can offer teachings about Aboriginal motherhood, rather “knowledge about parenting, any style, comes through the messy stuff of practice and reflection” (203). As experiential learners it makes sense that our knowledge about mothering would largely stem from the day-to-day practice of parenting, and also from the lessons we gain from our children through our work as parents. Beyond this, Anderson also shares her “understanding of the complexity of Indigenous mothering would involve years of study about the histories of our peoples, and research into the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual needs of our present” (203). Thus, by advancing an understanding of the complexities of the histories (pre-contact and colonial) and contemporary realities (ongoing colonization and processes of decolonization) of Aboriginal women, deeper insights of Aboriginal mothering can be gained. Diversities and Commonalities In the introduction to their anthology Until Our Hearts Are On The Ground: Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth, Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere-Lavell discuss the difficulty of presenting a universal reality of Aboriginal mothering by drawing attention to not only the diversity that exists among our communities such as differing worldviews, values, and traditions, but also inequalities and differences that exist within individual communities. Surely as they point out, “there is a range of Aboriginal women’s experiences existing somewhere be9

JENNIFER BRANT

tween ‘traditional’ and ‘modernized’” (2) that is inextricably connected to the diversity in our experiences as Aboriginal mothers. Moreover, demographic portraits of Aboriginal mothers would include, young mothers, older mothers, and single mothers, mothers living in poverty, incarcerated mothers those who live on reserve, and those who live off-reserve, and so on. Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere-Lavell draw on the work of Devon Mihesuah to identify a “commonality of difference” that connects all Indigenous mothers: Indeed, if we have nothing else in common, we share the experience of being different from (and often fundamentally opposed to) the dominant culture, which has a significant impact on our ability to mother as we see fit, according to our own values and traditions. The Aboriginal mother who adheres too closely to her traditions has historically found it difficult if not impossible to meet the standards of the “good mother” as set out by the dominant patriarchal culture. (2) This “commonality of difference” from the dominant culture, especially from the concept of patriarchal mothering, is reflected in the three words they choose to describe the Aboriginal mothering experience in the title of their anthology: “Oppression,” “Resistance,” and “Rebirth.” Despite the diversity among Aboriginal communities, and our varied experiences of motherhood, one need spend only a short time in an Indigenous setting to see that we share much more in common than our shared difference to the dominant culture. In her article “Giving Life to the People: An Indigenous Ideology of Motherhood,” Anderson also describes the difficulty in defining Indigenous motherhood but acknowledges our shared commonalities: Writing about an “Indigenous ideology of motherhood” is of course, an exercise in making generalizations about peoples who are extremely diverse. Even within our nations, the life experiences and perspectives of one individual may be radically different from another. This being said, Indigenous peoples on the whole do share many common values, epistemologies, and worldviews. (761) Anderson continues by pointing out that as Aboriginal peoples we share a common history of interference. While this history has significantly altered 10

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our communities, Anderson writes about the experiences of empowered Indigenous mothering that she describes as “strategies of resistance, reclamation, and recovery” (762). Before an understanding of a “commonality of difference” from the dominant culture and the shared commonalities of Aboriginal cultures can be achieved, the historical and socio-cultural context of Indigenous mothering must be considered. HISTORICAL AND SOCIO-CULTURAL CONTEXTS Patricia Hill Collins advises that for Aboriginal women, and other women of colour, motherhood must be understood within the contexts in which certain realities exist: Motherhood occurs in specific historical situations framed by interlocking structures of race, class, and gender, where the sons and daughters of white mothers have “every opportunity and protection,” and the “coloured” daughters and sons of racial ethnic mothers “know not their fate.” Racial domination and economic exploitation profoundly shape the mothering context. (311) This statement is especially true for Aboriginal women whose collective experiences of mothering can only be understood within specific historical and socio-cultural contexts whereby assimilation efforts have controlled, and in many cases completely eradicated, the right of Aboriginal women to be mothers. Cull explains how stereotypes about Aboriginal mothers being uncivilized and uncivilizing had become so deeply entrenched that, in turn, they were used to justify and legitimize attacks on Aboriginal motherhood. These attacks include the Indian Act of 1876, the residential school system, the eugenics movements, the sixties scoop, and the current over representation of children in protective services. The social context of Aboriginal mothering today must be understood through the above policies that have infringed on the rights of Aboriginal women to mother their own children. Cull demonstrates the importance of understanding the connection between contemporary Aboriginal mothering within a colonial context by drawing attention to the realities faced by Aboriginal women today: PROBLEMS experienced by Aboriginal women—racism, addiction, poverty, precarious social and medical sta11

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tus, violence, chronic social and legal persecution, and discrimination—need to be appreciated as being the tip of the iceberg, the body of which was developed a long time ago when Canada’s colonization took root. (150) Long-term and recent history in Canada involves a number of legally sanctioned initiatives that were significant in defining and controlling the social status of Aboriginal women. These initiatives came to surface in the late 1800s when the binary images of the Indian princess or the Indian “Squaw” were becoming deeply embedded into the Euro-Canadian consciousness (Carter). As a result of the Industrial Revolution, the public and private spheres of the Western family were also being introduced. This time is described as one where there was a shift from family-centered working environments towards environments where men worked away from the home while women were mainly responsible for the domestic duties of the home (Anderson). The characteristics of the middle class ideals of motherhood that surfaced during this era served to justify the moral regulation of Aboriginal women who were viewed as dirty, dissolute, and dangerous, and the governing of traditional Aboriginal family practices that were viewed as uncivilized and uncivilizing (Anderson; Carter). Moreover, while these middle-class ideals contrasted with traditional Aboriginal mothering practices, the moral regulation of Aboriginal women and their segregation to reserves severely limited their access to resources. Carter advises that basic sanitary items such as soap and wash basins were not available to the women, and the lack of textiles and yarn made clothing scarce as well. Despite acknowledgement that Aboriginal women had no means to acquire these basic needs “the tendency was to ascribe blame to the women rather than to draw attention to conditions that would injure the reputation of government administrators” (150). Not only were Aboriginal families forced to relocate onto small pieces of land with limited resources so settlers could benefit from the rich and vast landscapes that could support ranching and farming, but the development of the stereotype of Aboriginal women as dangerous and immoral governed their movement off reserve. Legislated policy made it difficult to go into town to acquire basic resources and as a result conditions of poverty and lack of sanitation made it easy for Aboriginal mothers to be viewed as “bad parents.” The following section outlines this legislated policy and describes how it specifically controlled the lives of Aboriginal women and attacked Aboriginal motherhood.

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The Indian Act of 1876 was “designed to create a patriarchal family unit in First Nations societies that already had a variety of kinship systems, including many matrilineal and matrilocal ones” (Sangster 307). This Indian Act has been described as being “one of the most influential and intrusive acts of legislation in Canadian history” (Cull 147). It was part of an assimilation framework in which every aspect of life for Aboriginal peoples was regulated as they were forced into a state of dependency. Throughout various sections of this Indian Act, Aboriginal peoples were diagnosed, through a colonial imagination, as inferior and uncivilized. Extending this notion, Aboriginal women were deemed unfit mothers who were not only uncivilized, but also uncivilizing. The marriage laws under this act and Bill C-31 (see Fiske) were significant to the regulation and subjugation of Aboriginal women. The customary marriage practices of Aboriginal societies were viewed as “suspicious” and “less genuine” than the legal marriages of the church. As a result, women who lived with men and were not legally married according to the state could be charged with immorality under the Indian Act and this could result in a jail term (Fiske). Presumably, this had significant implications for the stability of traditional Aboriginal societies as it led to the suppression of traditional family planning practices such as customary marriage ceremonies. Further, it is likely that it was a deterrent for women and men to live together for fear of being charged under the Indian Act and possibly serving jail time. The pass system was also sanctioned under the Indian Act. Under this system, the freedom for Aboriginal women to be seen off the reserve was limited. This was justified by the assumption that Aboriginal women went into the town only to work as prostitutes and therefore they must be confined to the reserve in order to keep the cities clean. The residential school system severely limited Aboriginal women’s access to resources (such as textiles for clothing and soap for washing as described earlier) and employment opportunities (Carter). The residential school system sanctioned under the Indian Act was significant to the repression of the traditional family practices of Aboriginal communities. The residential school system involved legally sanctioned church run institutions in which Aboriginal children were taken from their families and home communities and placed in boarding style schools where they were given European names and forbidden to speak their languages and/or practice their cultures. This was a deliberate attack in attempt to erase Aboriginal cultures, languages and traditions, and to civilize the “Indian.” The first residential school to open in Canada opened in the 1880s. 13

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Between 1910 and 1930, 75% of Native Children were in residential schools (Anderson). In 1980, residential school students began disclosing sexual and other forms of abuse. The last residential school closed in 1996, the Gordon Residential School in Saskatchewan (Assembly of First Nations). The children in these schools were subject to sexual, physical, and emotional abuse; they were taught to be ashamed of their cultures; and they were cut-off from their families and home communities. The abuse experienced by these students had devastating effects for Aboriginal communities. Children left the residential schools without parenting skills and without the knowledge of their family traditions (Anderson). Entire languages have been lost, cultural shame is prevalent, and there are significant feelings of mistrust towards the public education system. This system was significant in the moralizing campaign of Aboriginal women whose mothering practices were deemed unfit and uncivilized. The residential school system entailed “training women for their exclusively domestic roles. Residential schools took on the job of providing a gendered education that would foster a male breadwinner family model. Boys were trained in trades and farming and girls were schooled in domestic science” (Anderson 763). Moreover, these boys and girls were taught to be ashamed of the traditional family practices of Aboriginal communities (Anderson). While the residential school system was sanctioned to solve the “Indian problem” it has actually created many of the problems that Aboriginal communities face today, including the shift away from traditional family planning practices, and these problems are often used to justify the stereotypes of Aboriginal mothering practices as inferior. The deliberate attack on the right of Aboriginal women to mother their own children continued during what is referred to as the “Sixties Scoop.” This involved the mass removal of children from Aboriginal homes and into state care. Children were relocated away from their families and communities and siblings were separated. Many children were sent from Canada to the United States and any records that identified their home communities were destroyed. Many of those children, now middle-aged adults, are trying to find out where they came from, unaware of their nation and home communities. While in 1959 only 1 per cent of children in state care were Aboriginal, it has been estimated that there were 30 to 40 per cent of children in state care by the end of the 1960’s even though the Aboriginal population of Canada was less than 4 per cent (Anderson). Indeed, it was risky business to be an Aboriginal mother during this time period. 14

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For many Aboriginal women, the opportunity to become a mother was denied through the forced and legal sterilizations that took place during the eugenics movement. Supported by women’s suffrage advocates Nellie McClung and Emily Murphy, the eugenics movement allowed for the legal sterilization of women who were deemed unfit to mother. This procedure was often done without the consent of the woman and in some cases with women not even knowing sterilization had taken place. For example, as Cull reports, in 1959 at the age of 14 an Aboriginal woman named Leilani Muir was sterilized without her consent. Muir was unaware of this procedure until she began having difficulty conceiving. Little attention was drawn toward the impact of the eugenics movement on Aboriginal women, until Leilani Muir successfully sued the government of Alberta (Cull). While more research needs to be done in this area, studies suggest that between 25-50% of Aboriginal women in Canada were sterilized involuntarily during the height of this act (Anderson). CENTRAL ISSUES: REVISITING THE COLONIAL AGENDA A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. Then it is done, no matter how brave its warriors nor how strong their weapons. - Cheyenne Proverb The above oft-quoted proverb captures the essence of a colonial agenda threatened by the ability of Native women “to reproduce the next generation of people who can resist colonization” (Smith 78). Beyond reproduction, the power Native women held in pre-contact societies also threatened the advancement of patriarchal motherhood. Thus, as Smith asserts, the colonization of Native women served as a strategy to strengthen the patriarchal family unit within settler society. Noting that white women were in awe of the peaceful and egalitarian nature of pre-contact families, Smith maintains that “the demonization of Native women, then, is part of white men’s desires to maintain control over white women” (8). The demonization of Aboriginal women and control over their reproduction rights continues today in less overt forms. Smith draws attention to the use of dangerous contraceptives among Native women without FDA approval. Native women are also over exposed to toxic radiation poisoning that threaten healthy reproduction and contaminate breast milk.

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The aforementioned legislative policies along with the continued disregard and abuse of Native women’s bodies and reproduction rights expose the extent of colonial attacks on Aboriginal mothering and reveal the contemporary incursions of Aboriginal families. While most would think policies restricting the right of Aboriginal women to mother their own children have changed significantly, a number of scholars suggest this is not the case (Cross and Blackstock; Cull; Gosselin; Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere Lavelle). Rather, contemporary realities of many Aboriginal women suggest that their roles as mothers continues to be viewed through the colonial imagination positioning Native women as dirty, uncivilized and uncivilizing. Cull maintains, “the theme that links the state’s past and present treatment of Aboriginal mothers involves the non-empirically supported, implicit notion that Aboriginal women are “unfit” parents in need of state observation, guidance and at times, intervention” (141). Gosselin echoes this sentiment by noting “the experiences of Aboriginal mothers today must be analyzed against the backdrop of colonial and current neo-colonial practices and discourses” (198). Gosselin writes about the policing of Aboriginal mothering by sharing an example of a woman in Quebec whose case was brought to the Human Rights Tribunal. Gosselin draws attention to the interrogations that took place during the trial where the woman was questioned about “why the kids had different fathers” and “why one son was always sick” (201), concluding that her Aboriginal mothering was policed through a colonial and nationalist construction of the good mother vs. the bad mother. This is an important case for further reflection in light of the current over representation of Aboriginal children in state care. As Cull contends Aboriginal mothers continue to “live their lives under a statecontrolled microscope and no one’s life or behaviours look acceptable under that type of unnatural and unjust scrutiny” (153). Not only are Aboriginal mothers viewed under the critical glare of the state and marked with the same stereotypes that were used to justify the legislative policies outlined above, but now the trauma inflicted on Aboriginal women who were stolen from their own families and communities serves as a double mark against them as they mother their own children, many fighting for their right to do so. Gosselin describes this as the continued legacy of residential schooling that “impacts on successive generations of mothers and their abilities to nurture” (199). As Gosselin points out, “these intergenerational wounds are used by current neo-colonial discourses as justification to mark Indigenous parents as neglectful and abusive as well as [for] the removal of children from their home environments” (199). Evidently the same moralizing cam16

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paign that was designed to attack the very heart of Aboriginal communities continues to threaten the most vulnerable of Canadian society; Aboriginal mothers and their children. A Changing Demographic In reference to the colonial attacks against Aboriginal mothers described earlier Kim Anderson states: All of these experiences build terror through individual and collective memory, instilling in parents and communities a profound insecurity about children and a fear of further personal loss. More generally, there is a strong awareness that, as peoples, we face ongoing threat of extinction. Aboriginal peoples have recent memory, collective/historic memory and everyday experiences that continue to feed these insecurities. There is always the threat of someone coming to take the children away, someone scheming to erase us permanently. The political, social, emotional and practical response to these issues has been to reproduce in spite of it all. (176) Aboriginal women have been doing just that. In fact the Aboriginal population is the youngest and fastest growing segment among the Canadian population with 50% of the population being under the age of 25. This trend is also expected to continue based on a recent study that measured population projections. Currently representing 3.9% of the Canadian population, the Aboriginal identity population is expected to reach 4.0% to 5.3% by 2031. A younger age structure along with higher fertility rates are described as the natural causes of the Aboriginal population growth (Statistics Canada). Moreover, early motherhood is also associated with high fertility rates among Aboriginal youth. The fertility rate of Aboriginal teenage girls aged 15-19 is six times higher than non-Aboriginal girls. For those girls under age 15 it is up to 18 times higher than non-Aboriginal girls (Big Eagle and Guimond). Accompanying these demographics are the contemporary realities in which many Aboriginal women are raising their families. Present day Aboriginal families are described as being younger and larger than non-Aboriginal families. One third of Aboriginal mothers are raising their children single handedly. The average annual income of single Aboriginal mothers is $16, 000 and one third of these mothers are raising three or more children (Anderson). Thus, poverty, hunger, and homelessness are 17

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disproportionate among Aboriginal families (Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere Lavell). Demographic snapshots of the conditions in which many Aboriginal mothers struggle to raise their families are socially specific and must be understood in the historical contexts outlined earlier (Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere-Lavell). The intersection of persistent colonial attitudes of the past, present day social services that marginalize and oppress Aboriginal women, along with the realities outlined above create a layer of barriers that firmly plant Aboriginal mothers in dire situations. As Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere Lavell declare “given the situation facing Aboriginal mothers as they struggle, often as the sole provider, to raise their children in less than ideal circumstances, the correspondingly disproportionate number of Aboriginal children apprehended by child welfare authorities is not surprising” (107). The risks associated with the very act of being an Aboriginal mother are abundantly clear. CHALLENGES Child Apprehension: A Continued Threat As Anderson advises, assimilation policies have served as a real threat of extinction for Aboriginal peoples. In addition, as evidenced by present day realities, the right for Aboriginal women and communities to parent Aboriginal children continues to be threatened. In my own experience as an Aboriginal mother I have personally felt this threat on more than one occasion. I will share one experience here as I believe it speaks to the power relations involved in the continued threat of child apprehension among Aboriginal peoples. This incident occurred during the time that I was completing my Master’s degree and had both of my children enrolled in childcare. I was questioned about “a suspicious bruise” on my infant son and the daycare worker demanded to know where it came from. The marking that was thought to be a bruise was actually from a flu related diaper rash that discoloured my son’s sensitive skin. I believe that my position as a student and Aboriginal single mother—filtered through the colonial imagination I described earlier— precipitated the treatment I received from the daycare worker. Interestingly enough as an educated Aboriginal woman doing research on Aboriginal mothering, I still felt the threat immediately. Given the nature of my research, I was well positioned to seek advocacy in response to the interrogation. I wondered, however, if this situation could have de18

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terred other women from completion of their post-secondary education. So when I read Anderson’s work cited above I could personally connect to the “threat of someone coming to take the children away.” I also sense this in a story shared by Mohawk lawyer and Professor Patricia Monture-Angus. She shares her own experiences with the child welfare system, describing the most painful one being the time her infant son was taken from her for eight days. She had taken her son to the hospital for a broken arm that was later found to be the result of a bone disorder. Noting that the doctors at the hospital “vigorously pursued the abuse allegation” and “laughed when they heard [her] professional credentials,” she described her experience as being “of layer upon layer of racist treatment” (208). Monture-Angus noted the fear of taking her children to the doctors knowing how easy another allegation of abuse can occur. Monture-Angus also draws attention to the unnecessary trauma that was created by the false allegations noting that she saw fear in her son’s eyes for the first time when he was taken for those eight days. These examples demonstrate that, for Aboriginal mothers, regardless of our professional credentials, we continue to be over scrutinized and the right to parent our own children continues to be under attack. Therefore, as Anderson points out, while the very act of reproduction is a risk for any Aboriginal woman, it may also be part of a movement towards regaining control over the right to be both an Aboriginal woman and a mother. Contemporary challenges to Aboriginal mothering must be understood within the contexts of a continued moralizing campaign that attacks the very right of motherhood. For Aboriginal women, mothering will always involve resisting the forces that marginalize, demoralize, and oppress Aboriginal mothering practices. The extent of these challenges surface in the lived realities of Aboriginal mothers, many of whose daily lives involve navigating a number of obstacles with limited access to resources that most Canadian women take for granted. Many of the conditions that plagued Aboriginal families in the late 1800s described by Carter cannot be forgotten and are certainly not a mere moment of Canada’s shameful past. Unbeknownst to many, such deplorable circumstances remain one of the country’s dirty secrets. It may come as surprise then that as Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere Lavell point out “the circumstance under which many Aboriginal people are living in Canada are unacceptable, even by the standards of Third World countries, there are disproportionately more Aboriginal women and children living in poverty and facing hunger and homelessness” (107). Unfortunately, as in the past, it is Aboriginal women who take the blame for these conditions. The moralizing campaigns of a not so distant future con19

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tinue to justify state intrusion in the homes of many Aboriginal families. The persistence of child apprehension among Aboriginal families is amalgamated by multiple challenges that also extend the rippling effects of “the tip of the iceberg” of a colonial past and neocolonial present. As Greenwood and De Leeuw point out, the over representation of Aboriginal children in care has to do with the association between impoverishment and neglect rather than abuse. This is especially dangerous for Aboriginal mothers who are single and raising children in conditions of poverty. For many Aboriginal women significant barriers to employment provide limited options to poverty reduction. While race, class, and gender contribute to employment barriers for Aboriginal women, lower educational attainment and childcare limit job opportunities. This is further complicated by the fact that Aboriginal women are more likely to find low paying and seasonal jobs that make it difficult, if not impossible, to secure childcare placements (Cull; Greenwood and de Leeuw). Limited employment opportunities and low educational attainment make it difficult for Aboriginal women, especially young Aboriginal mothers to move beyond the very conditions that tend to be associated with neglect. Again, the very moralizing campaigns of the 1800s that attacked Aboriginal motherhood persist, and extending this cycle Aboriginal children continue to be apprehended in disproportionate numbers. Aboriginal Women’s Access to Health Care and Social Services Baskin, McPherson and Strike advise that the relationship Aboriginal women have with health care and social service workers tends to be oppressive and racist .To examine this relationship they use an anti-colonial framework that understands the experiences of Aboriginal mothers through a historical and colonial context. Browne and Smye advocate for a post-colonial analysis of healthcare to address the colonizing images of Aboriginal women embedded in healthcare discourses. They connect the delivery of healthcare services to neocolonial practices characterized by “new forms of colonial ideology embedded in institutional policies and practices, for example, institutional racism, or racialised discrepancies in access to health care, education or economic opportunities” (30). Browne and Fiske also report on the oppressive relationship Aboriginal women experience when dealing with health care professionals noting “perhaps the most troubling consequences of the colonial legacy in health and social service sectors are the discriminatory judgments leveled against Aboriginal women as mothers” (136). They 20

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shared examples of participants who understood their inadequate access to healthcare as treatment that is filtered through “racialized and gendered stereotypes” and of others who described extreme actions of hospital staff such as child abuse allegations. Carolyn Peters explored the experiences of Aboriginal mothers’ access to social services through a multi-layered power analysis. Through interviews with women from low income families, Peters found the women experienced multiple stressors such as poverty, inadequate access to affordable housing, lack of childcare, along with a lack of empathy and understanding from social workers. Their experiences were described as investigative and degrading and the women felt as if they were judged and blamed rather than supported. Peters also reported on the inequitable distribution of resources among Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal women noting that Aboriginal families are marginalized and offered fewer resources. Perhaps it is the effect of systematic oppression within the health care system that contributes to the low participation of Aboriginal women in prenatal care (Smith et. al). Unfortunately for many Aboriginal women who do receive prenatal care, the Western model may be experienced as culturally insensitive and disrespectful (Long and Curry). There is much research that documents the need for health care and social service agencies to incorporate post-colonial perspectives that examine unequal power relations associated with access to services (Browne & Fiske; Browne & Smye; Peters). Browne & Fiske apply a cultural safety framework to examine the experiences of Aboriginal women with mainstream health care services. They explain that cultural safety “extends analyses well beyond culturalist notions of cultural sensitivity to power imbalances, individual and institutional discrimination, and the nature of health care relations between the colonized and the colonizers at the micro, meso, and macro levels” (127). Browne & Smye advise that cultural discourses and cultural sensitivity approaches can limit understandings about the barriers Aboriginal women have in access to services. As they point out, alongside cultural discourses there must be understandings of the way “culture, history, and sociopolitical relations intersect and shape women’s health problems and access to health care” (35). Intergenerational Trauma The need to understand the power relations associated with Aboriginal women’s access should also go hand in hand with an understanding of the need for healing and decolonizing approaches to care. Unfortunately 21

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advancements towards decolonizing mainstream services and holistic approaches to care remain undervalued. The need for Indigenous well-being is connected to our colonial legacy and the intergenerational traumas that we individually and collectively live through. Joanne Arnott’s story is one of the need to find healing to support her role as an empowered Indigenous mother. Her story, like the stories of all Indigenous women, cannot be separated from the impact of residential schools on Aboriginal families or the constant threat of state intervention: When people become parents, and when parents become troubled, the threats can be overwhelming. I felt despair at my wobbling ability to master my anger. I felt resentment, despondence at the uneven skills I’d picked up from my family, and rage at the dearth of support. I felt shame at not having floated past the obvious traps of abusive behaviour and panic—I’m running out of time to get this right. More than everything else all together, I experienced a seemingly endless overflowing grief. (95- 96) Many can relate to the experience described by Arnott above. And perhaps for Aboriginal women who are constantly under the state’s gaze (Cull), and who are simultaneously dealing with the personal, communal, and collective trauma of residential schools, when it comes to mothering, this experience is deeply layered. This presents the need for culturally relevant and holistic approaches to empower Indigenous mothers. Attempts to regain control over our mothering practices involve resisting the stereotypical images that continue to oppress us, and reclaiming the traditions that prevailed at a time when Aboriginal women were revered for their roles as mothers(Cull). This is no easy task given the extent of multiple barriers and multi-faceted systems of oppression faced by Aboriginal women. Thus, solutions must also entail holistic approaches that offer equally multi-faceted responses and align with Indigenous parenting traditions. The following sections document this practice of resisting and reclaiming to showcase a movement towards empowered Indigenous mothering.

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ENVISIONING POSSIBILITIES THROUGH EMPOWERED MOTHERHOOD Through stories such as the one shared by Arnott we can begin to envision new possibilities to empowered mothering. For Aboriginal women, empowered mothering comes through a connection with Indigenous ideologies of motherhood. As Anderson advises “Indigenous ideologies of motherhood are distinct from patriarchal western models of motherhood, and this means that strategies for empowered mothering are also distinct” (775). According to Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere Lavell it is the very distinctiveness of Aboriginal mothering that is empowering: The historical persistence of our cultural difference generation after generation (despite the best assimilative efforts of both Church and State) is a sign of our strength and our resistance. That we have historically, and continually, mothered in a way that is ‘different’ from the dominant culture, is not only empowering for our women, but is potentially empowering for all women. (3) Extending this notion, Lina Sunseri draws on the work of Andrea O’Reilly to contrast the ideology of patriarchal motherhood (the good mother who puts everyone’s needs before hers) to that of empowered Indigenous mothering (pursuing one’s own needs and in doing so allowing your children to look up to you). Pointing out that “an alternative to patriarchal mothering has always existed in Indigenous communities,” Sunseri explains, “empowered mothering recognizes that when mothers practice mothering from a position of agency rather than of passivity, of authority rather than of submission, and of autonomy rather than of dependency, all, mothers and children alike, become empowered” (57). Indeed as Lavell-Harvard and Corbiere Lavell contend “the voices of our sisters, and their accounts of our longstanding resistance to the imposition of patriarchal motherhood and all it entails, can be a source of empowerment in the struggle for revolution” (5-6). Anderson documents Indigenous ideologies of mothering as “strategies of resistance, reclamation, and recovery” (762) drawing attention to the resiliency of Native women who were able to hold on to traditional customs despite colonial influences, and the role that reclaiming those practices has in the healing and recovery of Indigenous families. The need to reconnect with pre-contact traditions is supported by the work of cultural identity 23

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theorists (Anderson; Hundleby, Gfellner, & Racine; Wilson; Yuen & Pedlar) as well as the wisdom of our Elders. On writing about pregnancy, Mohawk Elder Tom Porter tells us that “if our tradition is strong, our children are also strong” (243). Extending this understanding is the rise of programs and services aimed at rebuilding Indigenous families through traditional parenting strategies. Arnott discusses her experiences within several traditional parenting programs referring to them as a gift. She points out that programming that draws on the “old ways” and allows participants to see those traditional childrearing practices brought into contemporary settings is very effective as it provides the skills to apply those within the families. Her experience within the traditional parenting programs is described as a healing journey that was prompted by her “need to negotiate powerfully for [her] children’s rights to be mothered, and [her] own right/responsibility to mother them” (102). Arnott, much like other Indigenous women who have shared their stories, demonstrate the power of resiliency. It is not easy for Aboriginal women to share their stories, especially with the threat of someone interfering with one’s right to mother their own children. In doing so, however, these women showcase the possibilities connected to empowered Indigenous mothering through their resiliency and the growth they experience as they develop a stronger sense of self by reconnecting with cultural traditions. Moreover, in sharing their stories they offer hope to other Aboriginal women who may be going through similar experiences. Greenwood and De Leeuw focus on “fostering Indigenous ways of knowing and being in Aboriginal mothers and their children” in response to the child welfare imposition on Aboriginal families. They propose that “bridging Aboriginal early childhood education and development programming with programming that supports and fosters Indigeneity in Aboriginal mothers” (179) may offer a solution to state intrusion of Aboriginal mothering. The success stories they see in the mothers that are involved with Aboriginal Head Start programs express the potentiality associated with empowered mothering. For example, they report that many participants have worked towards completing undergraduate degrees while others have become involved in various capacity building initiatives. By empowering Aboriginal mothers through their involvement in early childhood education programs, Greenwood and de Leeuw conclude that Aboriginal mothers will have the ability to “exercise strength and control in advocating for themselves and their children” (179). This form or empowerment is essential for Aboriginal mothers who are parenting against many odds and under conditions of heightened scrutiny. 24

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Reconnecting to Indigenous ideologies of motherhood also involves understanding the sacredness of the reciprocal relationship that exists between mothers and children. These teachings are essential to programming aimed at decolonizing and supporting empowered Indigenous mothering. Among our spiritual understandings of bringing new life into this world is the acknowledgement that women are the first teachers (O’ConnorAnderson, Monture, O’Connor). Presenting an Anishinaabe-kwe ideology of motherhood, Renée Bédard writes that the first teachings on motherhood come from our relationship with Mother Earth who “sustains us with beauty and nourishment” (73). Alongside this is the understanding that children also teach us our first lessons about mothering. This teaching is shared by Patricia Monture-Angus: I was taught by my aunties that children are our teachers, not the other way around. The children have just come from the spirit world and remember the lessons of innocence and purity that we adults have forgotten and set aside. And through the birthing experience, I first began to understand what it meant to be a woman. Having a son for me was very symbolic. (49) Leanne Simpson also expresses this sentiment: When I listen to [our grandmothers] talk about pregnancy, childbirth, and mothering, I hear revolutionary teachings with the potential to bring about radical changes in our families, communities, and nations. For Anishinaabeg people, the first seven years of a child’s life are very important. Children come from the spirit world, and they have a close and vital relationship with that realm. Children are respected as spiritual beings, and are looked up to, because they have knowledge their parents, who live largely in the physical world, do not. That is a very different way of positioning children in comparison to settler society. Children are not viewed as helpless babies who need to be controlled, they are viewed as independent spiritual beings, who have many things to teach their parents. Children are gifts. They are leaders. They are gifts that require respect, patience, love, attachment, listening; gifts that require us to face our own conflicts, faults, and misgivings. In our culture, children have a lot of freedom to experience 25

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the world for themselves, they have few boundaries, and they learn the natural consequences of their actions under the careful watch of their mothers, fathers, aunties, uncles, and grandparents. (26) Understandings about this reciprocal relationship between mothers and children contrast with patriarchal ideologies of mothering that are oppressive to women and children (Sunseri). However, they are integral to reclaiming traditional parenting philosophies that re-center the children in Aboriginal families and communities. Incorporating these ideologies of mothering into traditional parenting programs and curriculum that “fosters Indigeneity” among Aboriginal mothers will restore the teachings on the sacredness of our youngest generations and the need for women to be honoured in their caregiving roles. Reclaiming Indigenous Birthing Traditions Reclaiming Indigenous ideologies of mothering also involves resisting the oppressive forces that have suppressed or altered our traditions. Moreover, part of the recovery process of decolonizing is recognizing the intricacies of what was lost so that it can be restored. Simpson describes the modes by which colonialism changed birthing for Aboriginal women through the imposition of Western medicalization in place of ceremony, and altered the role of motherhood through the residential school system. As Simpson advises, “by undermining our most sacred and powerful ceremony and our most sacred responsibilities as mothers, our colonizers thought they could achieve the destruction of our nations.” (28). Simpson continues by describing the ways in which “colonialism hijacked our pregnancies and births” and “stole our power and our sovereignty as Indigenous women”: When colonialism stole that power from us, it undermined our sacred responsibilities as life-givers. It made us feel powerless and afraid of our most important and powerful ceremony—the one where we have the honour of carrying another spirit-being inside the water in our bodies. It made us afraid of ourselves. It made us question our body’s knowledge and our Grandmothers’ and aunties’ knowledge, and our ability to bring forth new life. (28) Simpson connects the healing of our families, communities, and nations to the reclamation of our sacred birthing ceremonies. “By reclaiming preg26

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nancy and birth, we are not only physically decolonizing ourselves but we are also providing a decolonized pathway into this world” (28). By drawing on Patricia Monture-Angus’s work on self-determination, Simpson continues by pointing out that “self-determination begins in the womb”: If more of our babies were born into the hands of Indigenous midwives using Indigenous birthing knowledge, on our own land, surrounded by our own support systems, and following our traditions and traditional teachings, more of our women would be empowered by the birth process and better able to assume their responsibilities as mothers and as nationbuilders. More of our children would be able to gain guidance from the story of their emergence from the spirit world through the doorway to this world. More of our men would be connected to their traditional responsibilities in pregnancy, birth, and fathering. The foundation of our nations would be strengthened. (29) Simpson’s work also speaks to the importance of understanding Indigenous ideologies of motherhood through a holistic framework that honours the role of the entire family unit in child rearing. The role of fathering within Indigenous ideologies must not be devalued. Tom Porter also reminds us of this as it is taught within the Iroquois tradition: When a father and mother are gonna have a child, the mother is pregnant, but the husband is also pregnant. There is no such thing as just the mother, the woman being pregnant. The father is also pregnant because it took two to make that baby. And it takes two to take on the responsibility of that child. (243) Tom Porter points out that the father has certain responsibilities to be fulfilled during that time of pregnancy. This understanding of family approaches to giving life and child-rearing are central to rekindling Indigenous family units. Reclaiming Indigenous Rites of Passage Ceremonies Anderson asserts that while Aboriginal youth are lacking in the cultural traditions surrounding sex and sexuality many see the value in cultural teachings about sex and sexuality and believe it would encourage positive and 27

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informed family planning decisions. Returning to these traditional family planning teachings may encourage traditional family planning practices by supporting informed decisions about sex, sexuality, and reproduction. Moreover, making these teachings accessible to Aboriginal youth may be more practical than mainstream approaches that tend to be culturally insensitive. Renée Bédard describes the importance of Anishnaabee teachings of motherhood that teach young women about their responsibilities as women. She describes the Berry Fast ceremony, a year-long fast from berries conducted by girls as they enter into womanhood, as a time when “young women are told about the importance of understanding and living the values of respect, responsibility, reverence, and reciprocity” (71). Bédard also describes these principles as “foundations of respecting a woman’s ability to bring forth life” (71). Anderson illustrates the need to return to these ceremonies as a way to encourage positive family planning choices and the empowerment that should accompany this critical moment in a young woman’s life: As the Berry Fast is a gendered puberty rite, it validates the girls’ existence not only as Native people nor as women, but as Native women. It allows them to see the critical role they play in creation, and this is achieved through the telling of femalecentered creation stories, through the teachings about the sacredness of the berry, through the celebration of their menstruation...The Berry Fast teachings can thus help girls to honour their particular abilities to create, and to make the connection to an understanding of their central role in shaping the future of our nations. (Anderson 390) While this ceremony has been lost through colonization, Anderson asserts that it is making a come-back in Aboriginal communities through reclamation of an Indigenous ideology of motherhood. Further, she indicates that is it now being offered in a way that reflects the contemporary needs of Aboriginal youth. She maintains that: The Berry Fast offers an opportune time for girls to reflect on sex, sexuality, and relationships. The restrictions on dating and dancing are helpful because they suggest to girls that they don’t need to build everything around a male partner, nor do they need to think of themselves in a sexual way all the time. (391) 28

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Indeed a resurgence of traditional family planning ceremonies can address the distinct and contemporary needs of Aboriginal youth. Anderson advises that through these ceremonies young women learn about patience, sacrifice, and taking the time to learn about and build relationships. She also demonstrates how the Berry Fast is helping women to learn about respecting their bodies. Through empowerment, the Berry Fast allows women to learn about how to say no and withdraw from unhealthy situations, sacrifice, self-discipline and a sense of responsibility are also lessons that young women learn by participating in the Berry Fast. As part of the come-back of the Berry Fast ceremony, some women who did not have the opportunity or the teachings to complete the fast as they transitioned into womanhood have now found the opportunity to do so as part of their own decolonizing journeys. Thus, reclaiming rites of passage ceremonies offers a pathway towards empowered Indigenous mothering. Traditional Family Units and Support Systems Anderson and Ball describe the traditional organization that was common among many Aboriginal families before contact: Child-rearing was typically shared in family groups; traditional Aboriginal communities were the prototypical model of ‘it takes a village to raise a child’. Children were raised with siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents and greatgrandparents, great-aunts and great-uncles. Although children knew their biological siblings, parents, and grandparents, other members of the extended family could be equally considered a parent, grandparents, or sibling. (58) There was an entire network of family members who had an integral role to play in supporting child rearing. Drawing on the work of Maria Campbell, Anderson and Ball contend that “children were at the heart of the community. Everyone worked together for the children’s well-being because children represented the future and the survival of the people” (59). Anderson and Ball advise that this family system was so important to the community because of its role in the economical, political, and social well-being of Aboriginal societies. The family is thus described as the foundation of community well-being. Anderson and Ball, however, also describe the “dismantling” of this foundation through colonization and the impact it has on today’s Aborig29

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inal families. Because this foundational family structure is not a contemporary reality for many Aboriginal women there is a need to also revision Indigenous ideologies of motherhood that respond to the current family structures and unique needs of Aboriginal mothers. Anderson and Ball highlight the importance of “families of the heart” that can serve as a support network for Aboriginal mothers. Brant and Anderson also write about the importance of the power of “the eachother” described as “the greater web of relationships that has been critical to rebuilding an empowered Indigenous motherhood” (202). These support systems are critical, especially if we are to consider the most vulnerable of our women who are raising the next generation. Many Aboriginal women living in urban settings are located away from family, social, and cultural supports. For others the family is now a site of dysfunction plagued by the lingering effects of colonization and family breakdown. In these settings it is important that “families of the heart” are created so that a communal approach can assist in supporting Indigenous mothers and families. It must be acknowledged that support systems for Indigenous fathers are also part of this movement towards reclaiming Indigenous family structures. Jessica Ball reports on the need to support the roles of fathers, and establish programs and services assisting with transitions to fatherhood. In this way, contemporary and familial approaches to Indigenous ideologies of mothering serve as new possibilities to empowered mothering. Aboriginal Women’s Leadership It is women who give birth both in the physical and spiritual sense to the social, political and cultural life of the community. (Mary Ellen Turpel quoted in Anderson 774) While Aboriginal women in Canada face significant economic, social, and political disadvantages— manifested in extensive amounts of racialized and sexualized violence, control, and oppressive legislation— they continue to persevere and in fact hold leadership roles in the movement towards social justice and community prosperity. As Mary-Ellen Turpel states above, Aboriginal women are regarded as the life givers of the community in both a physical and spiritual sense. Extending this sentiment, Cull states “for Aboriginal women, motherhood represents a core aspect of a woman’s being and it constitutes a benchmark component of an Aboriginal community’s well-being” (Cull 141). These statements shed light on the important role 30

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of Aboriginal women in community building capacity as they mother the family, the community and the nation. Moreover, the fact that Aboriginal women can still be found in these powerful roles despite the extent of hurdles they have faced is testament to their strength and resiliency. Reconnecting Aboriginal women with their community building capacities and restoring the balance in our communities through a revivification of women’s roles is integral to the betterment of Aboriginal families and the healing of our nations. Restoring these traditions also provides possibilities towards empowered mothering by connecting generations of women in community building capacities. In this way, through a connection “to a larger web of Indigenous mothers” (Brant and Anderson 202) older women can support younger mothers through mentorship and “auntie” roles. Supporting Aboriginal Mothers Through Education This section on envisioning possibilities would not be complete without highlighting the importance of supporting the educational needs of Aboriginal mothers. While education has a deeply entrenched history of assimilation and continues to be experienced as a hostile site,2 it is also recognized as contemporary mode of survival for Aboriginal peoples.3 As Lavell-Harvard & Corbiere Lavell express: “Despite the shameful legacy of the residential school experience, most Aboriginal people still view education as a primary means of initiating the social, economic, and political changes necessary if we are to provide a better future for our children” (115). While postsecondary educational attainment is on the rise for Aboriginal women in Canada, the educational achievement rates of Aboriginal women are lagging in comparison to non-Aboriginal women. Data from the 2006 Census suggests that 9% of Aboriginal women in Canada have a university degree compared to 23% of non-Aboriginal women in Canada (Statistics Canada). Data also suggests that Aboriginal women are likely to postpone their postsecondary studies until later in life, perhaps after taking time to raise younger families as family responsibilities and financial reasons are often cited as reasons for not completing postsecondary programs (Statistics Canada). Data also attests to the possibilities that post-secondary education provides for Aboriginal women specifically. For example, the income gap between Aboriginal women and their non-Aboriginal counterparts was found to diminish among women with university degrees where the median income for Aboriginal women is in fact higher than it is for nonAboriginal women. This is even more significant for Aboriginal women 31

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with graduate degrees (Wilson & Macdonald). The social and economical rewards of post-secondary education present possibilities for the wellbeing and empowerment of Aboriginal mothers. Studies suggest, however, the need to make education more accessible for Aboriginal women (Brant; Lavell-Harvard; Bonnycastle & Prentice; Monture-Angus; NWAC). LavellHarvard reveals the experiences of Aboriginal women in post-secondary education by discussing the barriers her participants faced throughout their studies along with the strategies they employed to overcome these barriers and be successful in their academic pursuits. This focus is further described by highlighting the importance of providing opportunities for Aboriginal women to share their success strategies as a way to increase the “overall rates of Aboriginal academic achievement” and “to facilitate a replication of that success” (6). Lavell-Harvard describes her focus as a paradigm shift away from the deficit views that problematize Aboriginal women in education instead of looking deeper into the problems that lay within the education system itself. Along with multiple challenges such as childcare, housing and funding, racist and sexist attitudes continue to oppress Aboriginal women in post-secondary programs (Brant). Lavell-Harvard describes Aboriginal women’s academic achievement as transformational resistance that stems from an awareness of social inequities, and a belief in education as a vehicle of social change for Aboriginal families and communities. One would wonder, what motivates the retention of Aboriginal mothers as they need to navigate extensive barriers. In her study on Aboriginal single mothers pursuing university studies, Marlene Pomrenke employs a resilience framework within the context of culture and gender to understand both the students success and the subsequent lessons that are passed down to their children. Pomrenke draws attention to the coping strategies of the mothers whose success is built on a network of external (support groups, advisors, Elders, childcare workers) and internal resources (selfefficacy and internal drive). Emphasis was placed on how these women were motivated to succeed by their children and education was viewed as the vehicle to improving the standard of living that would have an intergenerational impact on their children. Pomrenke positions the women as agents of their own learning journey, one that is not separate from their children. “In their role as teachers, the mothers employed two major pedagogical strategies: they served as role models, teaching by example, and they honestly and openly discussed with their children the difficulties of meeting ambitious goals for themselves” (185). Children as a motivating force of educational success is a theme that I also gleaned from the participants in 32

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my MEd research (Brant). As these studies reveal, post secondary opportunities for Aboriginal mothers must be created to include programming that honours their roles as mothers and curriculum that aligns with their educational aspirations. DIRECTIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH In Anderson’s chapter Giving Life to the People: An Indigenous Ideology of Motherhood she ends with the following: Taken uncritically, ideologies of Native mothering run the risk of heaping more responsibility on already overburdened mothers. With so many Native mothers struggling to raise their children in poverty or in situations of abuse or neglect, we must question the logic of asking mothers to “carry the nations.” ...We must ask ourselves: Where are the men? Where are the communities? Where is nation and where is the state? And—not to forget—where are the children? What are all of these parties providing for mothers and mothering women as they work through their onerous duties?...Perhaps the next step in exploring Indigenous ideologies of motherhood could be mapping out the “roles and responsibilities” of the relations that surround Native mothers as we cycle into the next stage of renewal. (775-776) Sunseri echoes this caution by noting that such ideologies can be either oppressive or empowering for Aboriginal women. She draws attention to the complexity of this sentiment by noting how such an ideology must not be used to control and constrain the lives of Indigenous women and their reproductive rights. Thus, it is important that ideologies of Indigenous motherhood are understood within the historical and socio-cultural contexts outlined in this chapter. To date, most of the research on Aboriginal motherhood has focused on statistical analyses that highlight the disheartening realities of poverty, unemployment, and low educational attainment. On the other hand some studies have focused on the link between cultural identity formation and well-being (Anderson) while others promote traditional programming (Arnott, 2006) and services that foster Indigeneity (Greenwood and 33

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de Leeuw). Alongside these pushes to support Aboriginal mothers, LavellHarvard’s commitment to focus on the successes of Aboriginal women in education in hopes “to facilitate a replication of that success” offers a useful strategy for promoting wellness. Showcasing success stories of Aboriginal mothers will evidence the value of supporting existing programs and developing new ones. I extend this sentiment with Anderson’s direction for “mapping out the ‘roles and responsibilities’ of the relations that surround Native mothers,” and issue the call for more research on the successes of programming for Aboriginal women and families, and the supports that need to be in place to ensure access and feasibility of such programs. In “mapping out the ‘roles and responsibilities’ of the relations that surround Native mothers” (Anderson) we must reflect on the need for holistic approaches to programming, employment, and educational opportunities for Aboriginal mothers, along with access to childcare and family supports. Finally, as more successes become replicated, “the greater web of relationships” that Anderson describes as “critical to rebuilding an empowered Indigenous motherhood” (202) will continue to flourish. CONCLUSION Reflecting on Aboriginal motherhood and mothering is complex as it involves looking deep into our histories, beyond our colonial histories, at a time when children were the heart of our communities. It involves an awareness of the colonial processes that dismantled and restructured our traditional family systems, and a deep appreciation for those who held onto traditional practices and cultural teachings, passing them down in the oral tradition, so that they could be reclaimed today (Anderson). The strength and resiliency of Aboriginal women and mothers who continued these traditions is empowering for all Aboriginal women. These teachings connect us to our maternal identities and offer understandings about the power of Indigenous womanhood. As a Yakonkwehón:we woman, I have a responsibility to rekindle these traditions within my own family. This process of reclaiming is different for all Aboriginal women and families as traditions, contemporary realities, and decolonizing journeys vary. In my own experience of becoming a mother, I was not prepared to reclaim traditional birthing practices, but learning about them later has inspired my connection with Indigenous maternal traditions. Leanne Simpson writes, “by reclaiming pregnancy and birth, we are not only physically decolonizing ourselves but we are also providing 34

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a decolonized pathway into this world” (28). For some, this decolonizing pathway takes place later as we work towards reclaiming our maternal traditions in different ways. Writings on Indigenous ideologies of motherhood become teachings as they inspire Aboriginal women to find their own decolonized pathway through the stories of others. These stories unite us as we build from that strength and resilience of one another. By reconnecting with Indigenous ideologies of mothering, the balance and egalitarian family structures that honoured the role of women can be restored and the children will be placed back in the centre, as the heart of the community. This will strengthen our families, communities and Nations as we honour the past and nurture the future. NOTES 1 Throughout the chapter I use the terms Aboriginal,

Indigenous, and Native interchangeably. While many of the terms used to describe or define us have specific political associations, some of them are also terms that we have become familiar with. Using the three terms interchangeably not only connects the women of the many varied Nations across Canada, and in some cases across the globe, but it also captures the complexity of our mothering experiences. 2 The ongoing nature of colonization within mainstream educational institutions has been noted by numerous scholars. See, for example, Hampton; Kanu; Kovach. While the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples [RCAP], points out that mainstream education can be hostile to Aboriginal learners, Patricia Monture-Angus notes that academia can have a particularly “chilly climate” for Aboriginal women. 3 For further reading on how education is positioned as a contemporary means of survival, described as the new buffalo by some Aboriginal leaders, see Blair Stonechild. WORKS CITED Acoose, Janice (Misko-Kisikawihkwe). Iskwewak Kah’Ki Yaw Ni Wahkomakanak. Neither Indian Princesses Nor Easy Squaws. Toronto: Women’s Press, 1995. Assembly of First Nations. History of Indian Residential Schools. Retrieved April 2, 2009, from http://www.afn.ca/residentialschools/history.html 35

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Anderson, Kim. A Recognition of Being: Reconstructing Native Womanhood. Toronto: Sumach Press, 2000. Anderson, Kim. “Vital Signs: Reading Colonialism in Contemporary Adolescent Family Planning.” Strong Women Stories: Native Vision and Community Survival. Eds. Kim Anderson and Bonita Lawrence. Toronto: Sumach Press, 2003: 173-190. Anderson, Kim. “Giving Life to the People: An Indigenous Ideology of Motherhood.” Maternal Theory: Essential Readings. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2007: 761-781. Anderson, Kim and Ball, Jessica. “Foundations: First Nation and Métis Families.” Visions of the Heart: Canadian Aboriginal Issues. Eds. David Long and Olive Patricia Dickason. Oxford University Press, 2011: 55- 89. Arnott, Joanne. “Dances With Cougar: Learning from Traditional Parenting Skills Programs.” “Until our Hearts are on the Ground” Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth Eds. D. Memee LavellHarvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006: 94-104. Ball, Jessica. “Fathering in the Shadows: Indigenous Fathers and Canada’s Colonial Legacies” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science: Fathering across Diversity and Adversity: International Perspectives and Policy Interventions. 624 (2009) 29-48. Ball, Jessica. “We could be the Turn-around Generation”: Harnessing Aboriginal Fathers Potential to Contribute to their Children’s Well-being.” Paediatrics & Child Health. 17:7 (2012) 373-375. Baskin, Cyndy, McPherson, Bela, and Strike, Carol. “Using the Seven Sacred Teachings to Improve Services for Aboriginal Mothers Experience Drug and Alcohol Misuse Problems and Involvement with Child Welfare.” Well-being in the Urban Aboriginal Community. Eds. D. Newhouse, K. Fitz Maurice, T. McGuire-Adams, & D. Jetté, Thompson Educational Publishing, 2012: 131-152. Bédard, Renée Elizabeth Mzinegiizhigo-kwe. “An Anishinaabe-kwe Ideology on Mothering and Motherhood.” “Until our Hearts are on the Ground” Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth Eds. D. Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006: 65-75. Big Eagle, C. & Guimond, E. “Contributions that Count: First Nations Women and Demography.” Restoring the Balance: First Nations 36

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Women, Community, and Culture. Eds. Gail Guthrie Valaskakis, Madeline Dion Stout and Eric Guimond, Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 2009: 35-67 Bonnycastle, C., & Prentice, S. “Childcare and Caregiving: Overlooked Barriers for Northern Post-secondary Women Learners.” The Canadian Journal of Native Studies 31:1 (2011) 1-16. Brant, Jennifer. “A Vision of Culturally Responsive Programming for Aboriginal Women in University: An examination of Aboriginal Women’s Educational Narratives.” Well-being in the Urban Aboriginal Community. Eds. D. Newhouse, K. Fitz Maurice, T. McGuire-Adams, & D. Jetté, Thompson Educational Publishing, 2012: 131-152. Brant, Jennifer & Anderson, Kim. “In the Scholarly Way: Making Generations of Inroads to Empowered Indigenous Mothering.” What do Mothers Need? Motherhood Activists and Scholars Speak out on Maternal Empowerment for the 21st Century. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2012: 201-216. Browne, Annette, & Fiske, Jo-Anne. “First Nations Women’s Encounters with Mainstream Health Care Services.” Western journal of Nursing Research 23:2 (2001) 126-147. Browne, Annette, & Smye, Vicki. “A Post-colonial Analysis of Healthcare Discourses Addressing Aboriginal Women.” Nurse Researcher 9:3 (2002) 28-41. Carter, Sarah. “Categories and Terrains of Exclusion: Constructing the ‘Indian Woman’ in the Early Settlement Era in Western Canada.” In the Days of Our Grandmothers: A Reader in Aboriginal Women’s History in Canada. Eds. Mary-Ellen Kelm and Lorna Townsend. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008: 146-169. Collins, Patricia Hill. “Shifting the Centre: Race Class, and Feminist Theorizing About Motherhood.” Maternal Theory: Essential Readings. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2007: 311-330. Cross, Terry and Blackstock, Cindy. “Special Foreword: We Are the Manifestations of Our Ancestor’s Prayers.” Child Welfare 91:3 (2012) 9-14. Cull, Randi. “Aboriginal Mothering Under the State’s Gaze.” “Until our Hearts are on the Ground”Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth Eds. D. Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006: 141-156. Fiske, Jo-Anne. “Political Status of Native Indian Women: Contradictory 37

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Implications of Canadian State Policy.” In the Days of Our Grandmothers: A Reader in Aboriginal Women’s History in Canada. Eds. MaryEllen Kelm and Lorna Townsend. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008: 336-366. Gosselin, Cheryl. “They Let Their Kids Run Wild”: The Policing of Aboriginal Mothering in Quebec.” “Until our Hearts are on the Ground” Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth Eds. D. Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006: 196-206. Greenwood, Margo & de Leeuw, Sarah. “Fostering Indigeneity: The Role of Aboriginal Mothers and Early Child Care in Responses to Colonial Foster-Care Interventions.” “Until our Hearts are on the Ground” Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth Eds. D. Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006: 173-183. Hampton, Eber. “Towards a Redefinition of Indian Education.” First Nations education in Canada: The Circle Unfolds. Eds. Marie Batiste and Jean Barman. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press, 1995: 5-46. Hundly, J., Gfellner, B., & Racine, D. “Desistance and Identity Change Among Aboriginal Females.” Identity, 7:3 (2007) 225-253. Ing, Rosalyn. “Canada’s Indian Residential Schools and Their Impacts on Mothering.” “Until our Hearts are on the Ground” Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth. Eds. D. Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006:157-172. Kanu, Yatta. Integrating Aboriginal Perspectives into the School Curriculum: Purposes, Possibilities, and Challenges. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2011. Kovach, Margaret. Indigenous Methodologies: Characteristics, Conversations, and Contexts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009. Lavell-Harvard D. Memee & Corbiere Lavell, Jeannette. Eds. “Until our Hearts are on the Ground.” Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006 Lavell-Harvard D. Memee & Corbiere Lavell, Jeannette “What More Do You People Want? The Unique Needs of Aboriginal Mothers in a Modern Context.” What do Mothers Need? Motherhood Activists and Scholars Speak out on Maternal Empowerment for the 21st Century. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly Toronto: Demeter Press, 2012: 107-122. 38

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Long, Claudia R. and Curry, Mary Ann. “Living in Two Worlds: Native American Women and Prenatal Care.” Health Care for Women International, 19:3 (1998) 205-215. Monture-Angus, Patricia. Thunder in my Soul: A Mohawk Woman Speaks. Halifax, NS: Fernwood, 1995. Monture-Angus, Patricia. “In the Way of Peace: Confronting ‘Whiteness’ in the University.” Seen but not Heard: Aboriginal Women and Women of Colour in the Academy. Eds. Rashmi Luther, Elizabeth Whitmore and Bernice Moreau, Ottawa, ON: Canadian Research Institute for the Advancement of Women, 2003: 29-50. Native Women’s Association of Canada. Strengthening Aboriginal Girls’ and Women’s Success Prepared For the Council of Ministers of Education, Canada (CMEC) Summit on Aboriginal Education February 24, 2009 Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. O’Connor-Anderson, S., Monture, P. A., O’Connor, N. “Grandmothers, Mothers, and Daughters.” First Voices: An Aboriginal Women’s Reader. Eds. Patricia A. Monture and Patricia D. McGuire, Toronto: Inanna Publications and Education, 2009: 110 -112. Peters, Carolyn J. “Do the Workers Think We Don’t Have a Brain in Our Heads?” A Qualitative Study about Mothers’ and their Social Workers’ Perspectives about Social Services.” Journal of the Motherhood Initiative for Research and Community Involvement 11 (Fall/Winter 2009): 33-44. Porter, Tom. And grandma said. . . Iroquois Teachings as Passed Down Through the Oral Tradition. USA, 2008. Pomrenke, Marlene. “Aboriginal Single Mother Students: Teaching the Next Generation(s) by Example.” Maternal Pedagogies: In and Outside the Classroom. Eds. Deborah Lea Byrd and Fiona Joy Green. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2011: 183-196. Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal peoples – Volume 3: Gathering strength. Ottawa, ON: Indian and Northern Affairs Canada, 1996. Sangster, Joan. “Native Women, Sexuality, and the Law.” In the Days of Our Grandmothers: A Reader in Aboriginal Women’s History in Canada. Eds. Mary-Ellen Kelm and Lorna Townsend. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008: 301-335 Simpson, Leanne. “Birthing an Indigenous Resurgence: Decolonizing Our Pregnancy and Birthing Ceremonies.” “Until our Hearts are on 39

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the Ground” Aboriginal Mothering, Oppression, Resistance and Rebirth Eds. D. Memee Lavell-Harvard and Jeannette Corbiere Lavell. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006: 25-33. Smith, Andrea. “Not an Indian Tradition: The Sexual Colonization of Native Peoples” Hypatia 18:2 (2003) 70-85. Smith, Dawn et al. “Making a Difference”: A New Care Paradigm for Pregnant and Parenting Aboriginal People.” Canadian Journal of Public Health. 98:4 (2007) 321-325. Smith, Dawn, Varcoe, Colleen, and Edwards, Nancy. “Turning Around the Intergenerational Impact of Residential Schools on Aboriginal People: Implications for Health Policy and Practice.” Canadian Journal of Nursing Research. 37:4 (2005) 38-60. Statistics Canada. Aboriginal Children’s Survey, 2006. Ottawa, ON: Author, 2009a Statistics Canada. 2006 Aboriginal Population Profile. Ottawa, ON: Author, 2009b Statistics Canada. Population Projections by Aboriginal Identity in Canada, 2006 to 2031. Ottawa: Government of Canada, 2012. Stonechild, Blair. The New Buffalo: The Struggle for Aboriginal PostSecondary Education in Canada. University of Manitoba Press, 2006. Sunseri, Lina. “Sky Woman Lives On: Contemporary Examples of Mothering the Nation.” First Voices: An Aboriginal Women’s Reader. Eds. Patricia Monture & Patricia McGuire Toronto, Inanna, 2009: 54-62. Wilson, Alex. Living Well: Aboriginal Women, Cultural Identity and Wellness.Prairie Women’s Health Centre of Excellence, 2004. Wilson, D. and Macdonald, D. The Income Gap Between Aboriginal Peoples and The Rest of Canada. Ottawa: Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives, 2010. Yuen, F., & Pedlar, A. “Leisure as a Context for Justice: Experiences of Ceremony for Aboriginal Women in Prison.” Journal of Leisure Research, 41:4 (2009) 547-564.

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2. Adoptive Mothers-Mothering

JENNIFER KATZ AND EMILY HUNT

INTRODUCTION Adoptive mothers are frequently asked, “But do you have any kids of your own?” Women become adoptive mothers when the parental rights and responsibilities for a child are legally transferred to them from the birth parent(s) or other legal guardians. Because they become mothers legally, not by birth, adoptive mothers are often perceived as less natural or “real.” That is, adoptive motherhood challenges conceptions of mothering that conflate biological (pregnancy) and social (parenting) roles (Livingston 65). The current chapter reviews theory and research about adoptive mothering, an experience that transcends common dualisms such as “biological/social,” “real/not real,” and “powerful/powerless.” BACKGROUND AND CONTEXT Contemporary Adoption in Historical Context Formal adoption is a controversial practice. Adoption offers women a path to motherhood without requiring conformity to traditional expectations (e.g., being partnered, heterosexual, or both) (Ben-Ari and WeinbergKurnik 823). Adoption benefits adults who want to parent children and 41

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pregnant women who give birth yet feel unprepared to parent (Pertman 7). Adoption also provides children who need permanent homes with “forever families.” Despite these joys and benefits, adoption is challenging and complex. All members of the adoption triad (adoptive parents, birth parents, and children) feel vulnerable and powerless at different times, in different ways (Pavao 8). In an ethical adoption, the needs and rights of each member of the triad are balanced, and each receives fair, respectful treatment. Despite ongoing challenges, ethical adoptions are more common today than in the past. Early formal adoption in North America was fraught with exploitation, secrecy, and concerns about legitimacy. From the mid 1850’s to the late 1920’s, “orphan trains” transferred penniless city children to rural adoptive homes, often to work farms (Fry). Early adoption laws, beginning with an 1851 statue in Massachusetts, presumed adoption would be secret because children could not be claimed as legal heirs in the absence of “blood ties.” For decades, secrecy was also justified as protection for the “illegitimate” child—who would be devalued if his origins were known – and the “illegitimate” mother —who could move on with her life without public shame (Yngvesson 42-44). Historically, formal adoption has privileged the interests of adoptive parents over birth parents (Pertman 22). Birthmothers who were pregnant,unmarried and possibly destitute were (and at times, still are) deemed unfit to parent due to psychological disturbance or immorality (Solinger 68). Following World War II, women who were white and unwed were pressured into hiding their pregnancies, relocating to maternity homes, and relinquishing their newborns to married, “legitimate” couples. Before legal contraception and abortion in North America, thousands of women surrendered children for adoption to white married couples (Solinger 70). In contrast, unmarried women of color typically parented their babies, a practice that was used as evidence of racialized immorality (Solinger 6). Throughout North American history, and even today, women of color and immigrants have been perceived as immoral and hyper-sexualized, attributes inconsistent with traditional motherhood (Pietsch 28). Culturally, “good mothers” adhere to a sexually chaste femininity available only to white women who are monogamous within and dependent upon heterosexual marriage (Pietsch 29). In other words, the privileged status of the “good mother” depends on factors beyond her control as well as a woman’s “acquiescence to dominant patriarchal subordination” (Pietsch 30). Many “good” adoptive mothers enjoy economic wealth and social status. At the 42

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same time, they cope with limited power in their homes and regarding their own fertility. For example, socially privileged adoptive mothers commonly describe economic dependence on husbands and primary responsibility for the home and adopted children (Lancaster and Nelson 304-05). As mothers, these women simultaneously experience social advantages along with forms of disadvantage. The practice of transracial adoption in North America emerged more recently, along with, and part of, significant (yet incomplete) social changes toward racial equality and social justice. Transracial adoption joins an adoptive child from one racial or ethnic group with one or more parents from a different racial or ethnic group(s) (Farr and Patterson 187). For example, beginning in the 1950’s, white North American families adopted multiracial children fathered by US service men in Korea (Pavao 94), greatly increasing the visibility of adoption (Pertman 30). Transracial adoption has a controversial history. Some people oppose interracial kinship, including marriage and adoption, viewing it as “unnatural” (Jacobson 14). Others oppose the privileging of white families over families of color, as when children born to Native American Indians were removed from allegedly “unfit” homes and placed with white families (Solinger 21). Relatedly, some oppose transracial adoption by white parents who are ill-prepared to foster a healthy racial identity in adopted children of color or to prepare these children to cope with racism. Concerns about the removal of black children from “unfit” mothers (and these children’s post-adoption identity development) prompted the National Association of Black Social Workers to oppose transracial placements in the early 1970’s (Briggs 58). Although the Multiethnic Placement Act of 1994 prohibits racial or ethnic matching, many professionals remain dubious that white parents can competently raise children of color (Fenster 46). The practice of transracial adoption is related to the practice of intercountry adoption (ICA), which peaked in North America in the early 2000’s. ICA became more common after abortion and contraception were legal and as single motherhood became more accepted, because fewer birthmothers relinquished babies (Jacobson 4; Solinger 22). Adoption from countries such as Romania and Russia permitted white couples to parent white children and to appear to others (“pass”) as a traditional birth family (Solinger 24). Still other ICAs are highly visible, as when white parents adopt children of color from around the world. As sociocultural perceptions of “acceptable” families evolved in North America, more culturally diverse transracial and trans-ethnic adoptive fam43

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ilies formed. Mothers play critical roles in such families. Because a family’s cultural socialization via food, clothing, traditions, and holiday celebrations is seen as “women’s work,” adoptive mothers are central to whether, how, and in what ways their families negotiate multiculturalism (Traver 104). Adoptive mothers who are committed to multiculturalism experience a double vision. They love and care for their child in a “colorblind” way, as they would any birth child. Yet, such mothers also recognize that, unlike a birth child, the visibly adopted child has unique needs related to her race, ethnicity, and culture. Adopted children of color must be prepared for the fact that “the world essentializes race as primary to identity” (Livingston 64) and a racialized appearance will affect how they are treated. As such, most mothers who adopt transracially are both colorblind and racially/culturally sensitive. CENTRAL ISSUES FOR PRE-ADOPTIVE MOTHERS/PARENTS Who Adopts, and Why? Most women or couples who pursue formal adoption are white and economically advantaged (Pertman 29). In part, this is due to racial/cultural differences; women of color are more likely to be involved in informal kinship adoption, caring for children within their extended family networks (Brooks 55). Women of color are also more likely to be economically disadvantaged, however, and because many types of formal adoption are increasingly expensive, such routes to motherhood are increasingly “locking out all but the rich” (Pertman 47). In practice, adoption is a “class privilege” available only to those with sufficient economic resources (Solinger 7). Most women pursue adoption only after unsuccessful attempts to become pregnant (Pertman 173; Kupfermann 228), often following use of assisted reproductive technologies (ART). While ART may empower women to become mothers by birth, it also may obscure adoption as a viable choice (Bartholet 178). Many women still do not consider adoption even after treatment fails; instead, they decide that they were “not fated” for motherhood (Fisher 355). However, a minority of women view adoption as a preferred route to motherhood. Often, these women began considering adoption as adolescents or young adults (Jacobson 29). Other factors related to an adoption preference include humanitarian concerns for children in need, religious

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considerations, and disinterest in or concerns about pregnancy or ART (Fisher 338). After deciding to adopt, a pre-adoptive parent’s fitness to parent must be evaluated. Being approved to parent may feel invasive and evoke stress and resentment (Kupfermann 229), particularly for single, lesbian, or other pre-adoptive mothers who do not conform to dominant ideologies regarding (married, heterosexual) motherhood (Ryan and Whitlock 526). Other types of evaluation also are embedded in different types of adoption. In ICA, for example, pre-adoptive parents must be approved to bring a child home by officials in their own country as well as in their child’s birth country. The evaluation process depends on the decisions that pre-adoptive parents make about the type of child they feel prepared to parent, the type of adoption process, and their openness to maintaining ongoing contact with birth parent(s). Which Children? As part of their evaluation, pre-adoptive parents are asked which types of children they are willing to raise (Pavao 23-24). Many pre-adoptive parents in North America hope to adopt young, healthy, same-race children in accord with the traditional birth family. Pre-adoptive parents generally want to be as involved in a child’s life as early as possible; as such, the younger the child, the more likely s/he is to be adopted (Pertman 32). Most preadoptive parents also hope to adopt healthy children. Health concerns, including prenatal exposures to toxins (Kupfermann 229), and postnatal effects of early abandonment, institutionalization, or other experiences (Lancaster and Nelson 303) are common among pre-adoptive parents. Many pre-adoptive (often, white) parents prefer to parent a same-race (white) child. Reasons for this preference include a) hope for greater acceptance by extended family and in the largely white communities where they live, b) the belief that similar racial identification may facilitate mother-child bonding, and c) concern that being adopted will make the child “different” enough, beyond being a different race than the family (Jacobson 41-42; Wall 93). Many pre-adoptive parents emulate the traditional birth family to obtain social acceptance. Perhaps related to their greater visibility as nontraditional families, however, lesbian mothers are more likely than heterosexual adoptive mothers to be open to (Goldberg 108) and to actually complete (Farr and Patterson 195-96) transracial adoptions. Not all pre-adoptive parents seek or prefer to adopt same-race children, however, and a child’s 45

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race/ethnicity may be relatively unimportant in light of other factors. For example, pre-adoptive mothers invested in parenting a daughter may seek to adopt from China where many more girl than boy babies are orphaned (Jacobson 23). What Type of Adoption Process? All forms of formal, legal adoption involve waiting periods and legal requirements. Public domestic adoption through a publicly funded agency is generally the least expensive option, but also the least flexible in terms of types of children waiting. Children may have experienced abuse, neglect, or other stressors given that their birth parents’ legal rights were terminated. Children from all races and ethnicities need homes, yet black children specifically are less likely to be adopted (Brooks and James 478). Children adopted in a public process tend to be older; infants rarely are placed by public agencies. Private domestic adoption, in contrast, generally involves placing newborns of all racial/ethnic groups with an adoptive family. Private agency and attorney fees are high; according to one source, adoption outside the public system costs at least $20,000 (Pertman 251). In the US, each state has its own adoption laws, creating complications when birth and adoptive parents live in different states (Pertman 59). Private adoption also may be emotionally complex. Birthmothers typically select an adoptive family from among a group of potential profiles, which may foster insecurity and fears of rejection in pre-adoptive parents. Pre-adoptive parents also may fear that, after the child is born, a birthmother might change her mind about relinquishment, “the adoption equivalent of a miscarriage” (Pertman 40). Highly publicized but rare contested private adoptions add to these fears (Pertman 10). Instead of pursuing private domestic adoption, pre-adoptive parents may pursue ICA because of a (somewhat) more predictable, less legally complex process. Although expensive, ICA may also feel “safer” given that children are presumably waiting to be adopted; there will be limited, if any, contact with the birth family (Solinger 31; Wall 91). ICA involves obtaining permission from both one’s own home country to bring the “immigrant” child home and officials in the country where the adopted child is born. Different countries have different criteria for parental fitness. Requirements may involve a range of individual and relationship attributes such as a minimum or maximum age, marital status, marital or divorce his46

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tory, sexual orientation, current or past health status, or children already in the home. These requirements constrain the potential options for different families; for example, pre-adoptive mothers may be too old to adopt from some countries but not others. Requirements also may change over time. For example, starting in 2007, China began to require prospective parents to be legally married, to have a certain level of income, and to meet specific physical and mental health requirements (Jacobson 38). National and international politics also affect ICA. In late 2012, for example, Russia halted all adoptions to the United States (Pennington). Pre-adoptive parents may also must decide on a type of adoption process based on their comfort with an open (vs. closed) adoption. In an open adoption, there is mutually agreed upon continued contact between birth parents and the adoptive family (Pertman 15-16). The actual degree of contact and nature of the ongoing relationship varies, ranging from periodic letter exchanges to shared weeks of vacation. Importantly, open adoption is not co-parenting; in a formal adoption, birth parents have relinquished both their legal and nurturing rights and responsibilities. Successful open adoption involves a collaborative, non-adversarial relationship between birth parents and adoptive families (Brakman and Scholz 68). In general, open adoption is more common in domestic than ICA adoptions. As such, ICA attracts pre-adoptive parents concerned that interactions with birth parents will adversely affect familial privacy, intimacy, and feelings of legitimacy (Wall 91; Jacobson 36). Theories of Adoptive Mothering During the pre-adoption stage, as in pregnancy, mothers create identities for themselves as expectant parents, creating physical, mental, and emotional space for a new child (Wall 90). In contrast to legal adoption, an event involving transfer of parental rights/responsibilities, “emotional adoption” is a process of developing a close, lasting relationship with one’s child (Pavao 35). Experiences of emotional adoption, or post-adoption mothering, may be understood in terms of multiple, converging concepts and theories. Most theories of adoptive motherhood begin with a focus on loss (Timm, Mooradian and Hock 270). Initially, loss and grief presumably stem from infertility, possible miscarriages, and the lost opportunity for pregnancy and childbirth. Psychoanalysts suggest a satisfied adoptive mother must “overcome the frustration of her own femininity in the biologic field” (Bental 25) and appreciate the role of “psychological mother” 47

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separate from “biological mother” (Kupfermann 228). Mothers may encounter other forms of loss and grief both at the time of the adoption and in the years that follow. For example, some may mourn the loss of an unrealized fantasy child. Others may struggle with feelings of powerlessness while encountering a child’s medical, developmental, or emotional problems (Lancaster and Nelson 306). From a psychoanalytic framework, adoptive mothers who have experienced infertility must cope with feeling low entitlement to parent, low worth as women, and envy and competition toward fertile women, including the birthmother upon whom adoptive motherhood depends (Kupfermann 230). Psychoanalytic processes include identification, differentiation, and symbiosis. Case study analysis suggests that, initially, the adoptive mother identifies with a needy child and seeks to provide for her. Next, the adoptive mother incorporates the child into her sense of self, fantasizes about pregnancy and birth, and attempts to parent a perfect child. When the child’s imperfections inevitably are revealed, the mother engages in fantasies of abandonment that allow for healthy differentiation. Ultimately, the mother and child reach social symbiosis (Bental 33-34). From this perspective, the healthy adoptive mother remains largely unaware of the processes through which psychological motherhood is achieved. From an attachment framework, emotional bonds between mothers and children develop through an ongoing process of nurturing interactions. Infants exhibit inborn attachment behaviors (e.g., crying) that solicit parental proximity, care, and protection (Bowlby 3). Caregivers’ responses to these attachment behaviors help children develop expectations about the availability of their attachment figure(s); these expectations, or internal working models, guide interpretations about caregivers, the self, and the world. Children who are adopted, particularly older or previously institutionalized children, may have experienced inconsistent or non-responsive care. Most adoptive mothers seek to provide a corrective emotional experience through ongoing child-centered interactions (Melina 63). Adoptive mothers are advised, for example, to respond immediately if their child appears hungry or distressed, regardless of the child’s age; such responsiveness teaches children that others care and will be available, fostering emotional regulation and a sense of security. Of note, attachment is a reciprocal process; as a mother provides sensitive care to a child, she enjoys emotional closeness with her child. Concepts and theories based on social constructionism also describe adoptive mothering. Kinning has been defined as “a process by which a fe48

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tus, new-born child, or any previously unconnected person is brought into a significant and permanent relationship with a group of people” (Howell 465), such as an adoptive family. Everyday interactions involving shared homes, food, emotional states, photographs, and rituals all combine to create a family history and to shape a future family’s trajectory (Howell 46768). Similarly, the theory of feminist embodied maternity values nurturing social interactions and shared experiences between mothers and children (Brakman and Scholz 65). From this perspective, genetic linkages connote property and ownership, yet children are people, not property, and mothering requires nurturance, not ownership. Maternal connections with children develop through physical nurturance activities such as touching, feeding, rocking, and holding a child. That is, instead of requiring a biogenetic bond with a child, maternity may be viewed more accurately as a physical and emotional bond involving the choice to parent and experiences of parenting (Brakman and Scholz 67). CHALLENGES Biological Essentialism Theories of adoptive mothering highlight challenges that these mothers face. Many such challenges are rooted in essentialist notions of motherhood as fundamentally biological. Conceptions of motherhood and attachment with children have long been perceived as rooted in biological connections such as pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding (Melina 60). Viewed through an essentialist lens, adoptive mothers seem less connected to their children than birthmothers. One result is that adoptive mothers are judged as less deserving of maternity benefits. For instance, childbirth is covered by medical insurance, and employed pregnant women use sick leave or shortterm disability benefits for maternity leave. In contrast, adoption is not medical and thus not insured, and few adoptive mothers enjoy paid maternity leave or benefits. Another result of essentialist bias is seen in pathological conceptions of adoptee identity and health. Many professionals assume that adopted children will necessarily struggle in life due to the early trauma of separation (Wall 97). Biological ties alone do not create families, however, and the concept of “biological kinship” is a social construction. For example, few would argue that egg donors or surrogate mothers are “real parents” (Brakman and Scholz 61) from whom separation will scar a child they helped create. Most adoptive mothers experience their children as simulta49

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neously connected to multiple families, a member of each (Yngvesson 44) while challenging the primacy – not the existence – of biological kinship. Encountering Adoption Stigma Adoptive mothers are often stigmatized as people. Commonly, they are stereotyped as naïve, unfulfilled, inadequate women who resent pregnant women and their children’s birthmothers (Uhrlaub and McCaslin 190-95). Adoptive mothers are also subject to harsh judgment. Unlike other types of mothers, adoptive mothers are asked to explain their motives to parent, justify how their parenting choices, and to serve as “ambassadors” for their type of family (Jacobson 153). White mothers may feel defensive about seeking to adopt a young, healthy, white child, as if only adoptive mothers hope to parent healthy children who share their racial backgrounds (Wall 91-5). Mothers who adopt transracially may feel defensive when they are judged as hypocritical: selectively color-blind while also fetishizing another race/ethnicity or culture (Wills 150). Mothers who adopt older children or children with special needs are presumed to be “saint-like,” odd, or both (Home 163). Every type of adoption is suspect. In addition to coping with judgments about themselves, adoptive mothers are challenged to help their children maintain positive attitudes about adoption. Classic stories such as “Sleeping Beauty” and “Rapunzel” depict adoptive parents as inert/powerless or conniving/evil. Characters in books, movies, and television shows for children may taunt one another, using “adopted” as an insult (Kressierer and Bryant 405). Outside of fictional media, adoption is negatively portrayed in the news; many adoption stories focus on fraud, legal disputes, and crimes like child trafficking (Kline, Chatterjee and Karel 62). Social programs encouraging others to “adopt” (i.e., sponsor) a highway, zoo animal, or a family for the holidays imply that adoption is merely a temporary financial undertaking. Mothers must acknowledge these messages exist while providing children with corrective reassurance: adoptive families are permanent families. More specific challenges for adoptive mothers stem from their children’s school experiences. Many routine assignments such as drawing family trees and comparing genetic phenotypes with one’s parents are challenging or potentially impossible for adopted children (Pavao). The first author’s adopted daughter was asked to complete the following sentence as part of a first grade unit on family history: ”My ancestors came from [–].”

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Her matter-of-fact response, “My Mama and Daddy Met Me in China,” was non-grammatical, yet accurately captured her complex family origins. Adoptive mothers typically hope that school officials will respond sensitively to their children’s cognitive and language needs. One mother who adopted from Romania described how school officials labeled her child in ways that seemed incorrect and unfair; she questioned, for example, the validity of standardized test results administered to children from deprived early environments (Wall 97-98). Schools may place children in grade levels based on their age rather than academic readiness, with negative consequences for adopted children who speak other languages. Schools also may attribute learning delays to language acquisition problems rather than addressing comprehension difficulties due to limited cultural socialization (Lancaster and Nelson 307). Many adoptive mothers are challenged to simultaneously promote positive adoption attitudes in schools while advocating for their children’s specific needs. Special Needs Even beyond the school setting, mothering children with special needs creates additional mothering challenges. Special needs can include medical, psychological, or behavioral conditions, histories of institutionalization, physical abuse or neglect, or some combination. Mothers of these children commonly described being unprepared for the intensity of their children’s immediate needs, sometimes because children had inaccurate or incomplete medical records (Lancaster and Nelson 305; Home 167), and sometimes because emotional or behavioral problems didn’t fully emerge until after an initially easy “honeymoon” period at home (Melina 75; Vardalas) or until school demands increased (Home 167). Adoptive mothers who parent children with special needs report being particularly stressed by work-life balance as well as their child’s oppositional behavior, scholastic difficulties, and rejection by peers (Home 169-72). Simultaneously, the rewards of mothering special needs children include appreciating children’s unusual qualities (energy, humor), celebrating hard-won academic or social progress, and personal growth and learning (Home 167-68). Some adoptive mothers of children with special needs are shaken by problems with attachment, especially with older children. These mothers worry that their children will remain attached to prior caregivers, detached from their adoptive families, or both (Lancaster and Nelson 305-06). Some mothers are surprised and chagrined to find that their adopted children do 51

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not respond positively to nurturance, in part, due to a lack of previous experience with nurturance. Other adoptive families who overcame similar problems are invaluable sources of practical information, support, and hope for a better future (Lancaster and Nelson 309-09). Dissimilar Appearance and Racism In a traditional birth family, shared physical features can be used to validate family bonds (e.g., “She has her Daddy’s hair/nose/hands”). Similarly, adoptive family bonds also may be validated when adoptive parents and children look alike. One adoptive mother reportedly felt elated when a shop clerk said, “These two must be yours,” and “They look like you” (Kupfermann 229). Conversely, when adoptive mothers and children look dissimilar, observers may not identify them as part of the same family. One memorable essay by a transracial adoptive mother was titled, “Why are you kissing that child?” (Groves 264). Transracial adoptive families also may experience stigma related specifically to racism or, in cases of ICA, xenophobia. A challenge for the visibly adoptive transracial family is “interracial surveillance” (Jacobson 146). In public settings, transracial families are often the subject of strangers’ attention, reflected both nonverbally (staring, pointing) and verbally (commenting, questioning). Some attention is positive in content or tone; for example, when strangers compliment a child’s appearance. Other attention is less benign, such as when mothers are asked, “How much did that child cost?” Regardless of the specific content, such surveillance is generally uncomfortable for mothers and children. Mothers often worry that their children are seen as exotic and their families are seen as curiosities. Interracial surveillance and comments about racial/ethnic differences affect families who adopt from other countries (Friedlander et al. 194) as well as domestically. Unfortunately, children who encounter more discrimination, more negative comments about their background, or more discomfort with their appearance also exhibit greater adjustment difficulties (Feigelman 176). Stigmatizing, potentially racist reactions to their families challenge many adoptive mothers to help their children cope with racial prejudice. Culture-Keeping A mothering challenge related to ethnicity is culture-keeping, the process of engaging a child adopted from a different culture with his birth her52

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itage. Commonly, mothers who adopt children from different cultural backgrounds seek out people, foods, traditions, books, music, stories, clothing, and travel associated with the adopted child’s birth culture to ensure familial exposure to and comfort with this culture (Jacobson 2-3). Culturekeeping is thought to promote a positive ethnic/cultural identity in children and positive connections with their culture and ethnicity as a buffer against possible prejudice or discrimination. Not surprisingly, mothers of adopted children of color are generally more involved with, concerned about, and more socially visible in their culture-keeping efforts. Public culture-keeping also enables mothers to identify with their children as well as with the social position of “mother” (Traver 112). Despite these benefits, culture keeping is challenging. Wall, a white mother who adopted a white child from Romania, writes, “Adoptive parents find it difficult to access cultivate and reinforce elements of a child’s culture in any depth in everyday life” (94). Wall further questions the degree to which adopted children truly possess a fixed cultural identity based on essentialist biological ties to birth parents (96). In general, adoptive mothers worry about the authenticity and effectiveness of their culture-keeping efforts. They also wonder about how much a child’s birth culture should be emphasized and how stigmatized their children will be as “different” (Jacobson 97): there’s no clear line between “not doing enough” versus “going overboard.” Lesbian Couples and Single Woman Adoption Women-headed adoptive families may face unique challenges related to both their creation and composition. Lesbian couples who adopt may experience stigma related to the heteronormative model of conception. Unlike the traditional heterosexual birth family, lesbian-headed families challenge essentialist expectations for families due to their sexual orientation and the necessity of adoption in building their family (Folgero 127). Some lesbian mothers co-adopt, bypassing ART. Others must negotiate the hierarchies created when children are brought into the home through a mixture of adoption and biology. When one mother is biologically related to the child and the other is related through adoption, the culturally prized biogenetic bond between one partner and child may position the adoptive mother as “less real.” Other lesbian mothers share the biological roles of motherhood. For example, when one mother provides the egg for a child and the other carries the child, these co-mothers reduce the potential biological hierarchy 53

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created when starting a family through reproduction and adoption; they also blur the arbitrary distinction between adoptive and biological ties because the adoption takes place in utero (Sharkey 186). Heteronormative expectations for mothering also render certain adoptive mothers, namely lesbians and single women, as “inappropriate” (DiLapi 113). In large part, such judgments are based on the idea that children benefit from being cared for by adults who enact complementary gender roles (Folgero 138). Children of lesbian or single adoptive mothers may be seen as “deprived” of a “father figure” (Ben-Ari and Weinberg-Kurnik 828). It is not surprising, then, that many women-headed adoptive families ensure their children are exposed to “male role models” who are expected to enact “masculine” (active, rough) care (Folgero 140). In such cases, although adoptive mothers act in accord with traditional gendered expectations, they simultaneously challenge and transgress traditional gendered expectations for parenting as lesbians or as single women. POSSIBILITIES Compounding the specific challenges faced by adoptive mothers are the general challenges faced by all mothers. In her classic book Of Women Born, Adrienne Rich describes the experience of motherhood as profoundly disempowering to women because of the patriarchal expectations and values that define good motherhood. Because of these expectations, a “normal” family features a “division of labor by gender, emotional, physical, and material possessiveness, the economic dependence of women, the unpaid domestic services of the wife, the obedience of women and children to male authority, and the imprinting and continuation of heterosexual roles” (61). Decades later, many women and men alike still believe that these types of traditional families are best for children. As such, these traditional and gendered expectations for motherhood and families persist even in modern times. More optimistically, Rich (xxxiv) also envisioned an alternative type of society in which everyone, including families, “place(s) the highest value on the development of human beings, on economic justice, on respect for racial, cultural, sexual and ethnic diversity, on providing the material conditions for children to flower into responsible and creative women and men.” In many ways, contemporary adoption fulfills this vision; through adoption, women may be empowered, children can be nurtured, and diversity can be celebrated. Certainly, not all women are empowered by the tran54

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sition to motherhood; in fact, “female possibility has been literally massacred on the altar of motherhood” (Rich 13). And certainly, adoption is an imperfect institution affected by larger, adverse sociocultural forces; not all children are adopted and nurtured, and not all diversity is celebrated. Historically, the central mistakes of adoption as an institution have been to force families to conform to a “normal” biological same-race heterosexual family formation (Pertman 189). Today, however, adoption may empower resistance to many patriarchal constraints on motherhood and families by “extending the family franchise toward greater inclusivity” (Livingston 66). More specifically, adoption expands the possibilities for who will mother children, who can be a family, and who feels a sense of kinship with others. Being a Mother Adoption offers the possibility of motherhood to more women than pregnancy alone. Perhaps most fundamentally, adoptive motherhood does not rely on a woman’s age or physical functioning. Adoptive mothers aren’t necessarily fertile. For example, women who are unable to conceive due to genetic or other medical conditions still may become mothers. Furthermore, adoptive mothers aren’t necessarily able-bodied. As noted by Pertman, “legal and logistical assistance stemming from the Americans with Disabilities Act, increasingly positive perceptions of people with physical impairments, and the major revisions being made to the nation’s foster-care system” have allowed more women to became a mothers and more children to be mothered (213). Adoption also permits women to become mothers without requiring them to be partnered, married, or heterosexual. Such women may face obstacles during the approval process because the normative discourse of patriarchal ‘good’ motherhood requires that women be heterosexually coupled (Pertman 216). Ultimately, however, adoption reveals that being partnered or being heterosexual are non-essential, allowing for the creation of diverse families headed by single women (Ben-Ari and Weinberg-Kurnik 823) and lesbian dyads (Fisher 349) who parent adopted children in less traditionally gendered contexts. Such families remind us that all families are socially constructed and that biogenetic ties are neither necessary nor sufficient for deep familial bonds to develop. Adoption also provides possibilities for women not to parent after they birth children. The dominant narrative of the helpless birthmother is familiar, particularly in light of the limited rights that many unmarried women 55

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with unwanted pregnancies have historically experienced (Solinger 70). Even today, many disenfranchised women in North America and around the world feel (and are) pressed into relinquishing their children due to adverse social and cultural forces. In some cases, children are removed from homes without even the pretense of consent, and in other cases, adoptable children “disappear” (Briggs 163). It is undeniably tragic when women are unable to parent a child they want to raise. A less familiar narrative, however, is the empowered birthmother who finds agency in making an adoption plan for her child (Latchford 79). Because birthmothers who relinquish children are vilified as “unnatural, aberrant or monstrous” (Latchford 75), the freely made choice to pursue an adoption plan challenges bioessentialist discourses of all women as natural mothers. This choice also provides new possibilities for birthmothers and their children. Being a Family Adoptive families remind us that other important kinship bonds, including with spouses, are based on love, not shared biology. More generally, visibly diverse families highlight an essential truth about families: all families involve unique individuals with different backgrounds and experiences who negotiate complex relationships with each another. Many mothers parent children through adoption who differ from them in terms of race/ethnicity, country of origin, (dis)ability status, or other attributes. Such kinship bonds would not be created in families created by birth. In this way, adoption helps to promote diversity (Pertman 230). Adoption also helps to promote awareness of privilege and an expanded sense of one’s social group memberships. By adopting a child from less privileged circumstances, many mothers become more cognizant of the less visible privileges that they may have experienced. This awareness results from both identification with their child and observations of the child’s experiences. For example, mothers who adopt children with HIV learn firsthand the ways in which HIV status affects how people are treated (Melina 288). Similarly, white mothers who adopt children of color experience the loss of white privilege (Ford 1; Jacobson 175), and mothers who adopt children from impoverished circumstances become newly cognizant of the economic hardships countless families face (Pertman 204). Because mothers identify with their children, women who mother a child from a different background may expand their social group membership. For example, post-adoption, white mothers experienced “new 56

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feelings of connectedness” with the country of China, its culture, and the people” (Jacobson 110-11). In turn, such feelings can inspire advocacy and humanitarian efforts to improve the lives of women and children, both within North American and throughout the world. Groups such as Families for Russian and Ukrainian Adoption (FRUA) and Families with Children from China (FCC) regularly raise funds for orphanages abroad and other charitable relief programs (Jacobson 150). After adopting and loving a child from a different social group (e.g., race, culture, (dis)ability), many mothers are more aware of their social privileges and simultaneously feel more connected to and invested in advocating for others. Mothering with Others Adoptive mothering provides opportunities for egalitarian parenting and relations with children. In a traditional birth family, women’s unique reproductive capacities create added nurturing responsibilities and pleasures, including labor/delivery and breast-feeding, that cannot be shared with a partner. In an adoptive family, however, adoption offers couples a unique opportunity to share work and joy as new parents – irrespective of each parent’s sex or gender. For example, the labor of adoption is referred to as waiting, which is a shared labor in adoptive families. Furthermore, outside of step-parent or kinship adoptions, the degree of genetic or biological connection to the child is equivalent. This is unlike surrogacy situations, in which a heterosexual married man inseminates a surrogate, the man’s wife adopts, but in the event of divorce, the man could claim primary parent status due to his biogenetic link to the child. Adoptive mothering also provides opportunities for parenting children with multiple mothers, and possibly, fathers (Livingston 63). Although open adoption does not involve co-parenting, the application of family systems theories suggests the value of open communication between families given that birth and adoptive parents are necessarily connected. According to contextual family theory, non-hostile estrangement (i.e., cutoffs) can lead to prolonged emotional reactivity and biased fantasies about those who are cut off (Dattilio and Nichols 90). Many adoptive mothers have heard a child angrily retort, “I bet my REAL mother would let me (forbidden activity).” Based on structural family theory, the birth family and child represent a specific connected subsystem that impacts the adoptive family. For example, open communication with the birth family is related to more open communication within the adoptive family as well (Grotevant et al. 127). Of 57

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course, not all families choose or benefit from open adoption. In addition, open adoption situations may change; over time, some adoptive mothers may feel secure in their bond with their child, identify with their child’s actual or perceive interest in her birth family, and initiate changes in openness (Mendenhall 226) or bemoan limited opportunities for openness (Jacobson 36-37). For some families, open adoption creates a joyful possibility for shared experiences. In many ways, adoption allows for wonderful possibilities for mothers and children. Through adoption, more women who wish to parent may do so, and women who do not have additional options. More children are mothered in forever families. Adoption also creates kinships “within and outside bioheteronormative constructions” (Livingston 59). Transracial, some ICA, same-sex parent, and single mother adoptive families refuse to perform as a traditional birth family, visibly eschewing patriarchal expectations. Adoption empowers many mothers to recognize their own privileges and the ways in which previously unfamiliar social groups are systematically disempowered. These mothers often align themselves as advocates for their children and others similar to their children. Adoption also permits more egalitarian parenting and opportunities for relationships with birth parents in cases of open adoption. DIRECTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH To date, little research has focused specifically on the experiences of adoptive mothers. Despite exceptions, studies of adoptive mothers generally presume (either explicitly or implicitly) that adoption is deviant and that mothers must compensate for this deviance for the sake of their children. For example, researchers have evaluated the sensitivity of adoptive mothers toward their children as related to child social development (van den Dries et al.). Other researchers study adoptive mothers in relation to birthmothers and apparently because maternal mood and behaviors impact children. For example, researchers have compared rates of depression between postpartum and adoptive mothers (Mott et al.). Mothers, including adoptive mothers, often are not considered as people whose experiences, in their own right, warrant empirical attention. As such, many unanswered questions about adoptive mothering remain. Research that acknowledges the complexity of adoptive mothering is needed. Certainly, adoptive mothers face many stressors that are unique to adoption. Still, these stressors appear particularly problematic when the 58

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traditional birthmother is the standard of comparison. Furthermore, these stressors are only part of the adoptive mothering experience. Adoptive mothers also face many joys and possibilities that are unique to adoption. As such, the relative effects of these unique experiences, both stressors and possibilities, should be considered. For example, studies of maternal coping and resilience, along with stigma and loss, would provide a more complete picture of the experience of adoptive mothering. Research also is needed to understand how and why adoptive mothers’ experiences change throughout different stages of family development. Understanding adoptive mothers’ experiences in both the short and long term could yield many benefits. For example, such research could inform the decision-making of preadoptive mothers, teach educators about normative adoption experiences, and challenge negative, unfounded stereotypes about adoptive mothers and their families. CONCLUSION Adoptive mothering is a complex experience that defies simple binary categories. Although often socially powerful by virtue of class (and often race) privilege, adoptive mothers are simultaneously disempowered as “not real” mothers and as women in patriarchal domestic and cultural contexts. Biological kinship, although real, is understood in terms of social constructions of kinship. Biogenetic ties between adults and children are neither necessary nor sufficient for children to be physically nurtured or for women to experience motherhood (Brakman and Scholz 64-65). Adoptive mothers seek to promote positive attitudes about adoption while encouraging others to accept their children and treat them fairly given their unique developmental experiences. Adoptive mothers who adopt transracially love their children without regard to race and yet foster pride in their children’s racial identification. Single or lesbian adoptive mothers transgress traditional gendered expectations as parents while parenting in a heteronormative world within which women and men often are expected to play complementary roles. Adoptive mothering, like all mothering, involves sadness and joy, loss and gain, stress and reward, work and play. All mothering is complex. In this way, adoptive mothers are like all others.

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WORKS CITED Bartholet, Elizabeth. "Adoption Rights and Reproductive Wrongs." Power and Decision. Harvard U Press, 1994. 177-203. Print. Ben-Ari, Adital, and Galia Weinberg-Kurnik. "The Dialectics between the Personal and the Interpersonal in the Experiences of Adoptive Single Mothers by Choice." Sex Roles: A Journal of Research 56.11-12 (2007): 823-33. Print. Bental, Vicky. "Psychic Mechanisms of the Adoptive Mother in Connection with Adoption." Israel Annals of Psychiatry & Related Disciplines 3.1 (1965): 24-34. Print. Bowlby, John. A Secure Base: Parent-Child Attachment and Healthy Human Development. London: Routledge, 1988. Print. Brakman, Sarah-Vaughan, and Sally J. Scholz. "Adoption, Art, and a ReConception of the Maternal Body: Toward Embodied Maternity." Hypatia 21.1 (2006): 54-73,240,42. Print. Briggs, Laura. Somebody’s Children: The Politics of Transracial and Transnational Adoption. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2012. Print. Brooks, Devon, and Sigrid James. "Willingness to Adopt Black Foster Children: Implications for Child Welfare and Policy and Recruitment of Adoptive Families." Children and Youth Services Review 25 (2003): 463–89. Print. Brooks, Susan L. "Kinship and Adoption." Adoption Quarterly 5.3 (2002): 55-66. Print. Dattilio, Frank M., and Michael P. Nichols. "Reuniting Estranged Family Members: A Cognitive-Behavioral-Systemic Perspective." American Journal of Family Therapy 39.2 (2011): 88-99. Print. DiLapi, Elena M. "Lesbian Mothers and the Motherhood Hierarchy." Journal of Homosexuality 18.1-2 (1989): 101-21. Print. Farr, Rachel H., and Charlotte J. Patterson. "Transracial Adoption by Lesbian, Gay, and Heterosexual Couples: Who Completes Transracial Adoptions and with What Results?" Adoption Quarterly 12.3-4 (2009): 187-204. Print. Feigelman, W. "Adjustments of Transracially and Inracially Adopted Young Adults." Child and Adolescent Social Work Journal, 17 (2000): 165–83. Print. 60

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Fenster, Judy. "Transracial Adoption in Black and White: A Survey of Social Worker Attitudes." Adoption Quarterly 5.4 (2002): 33-58. Print. Fisher, Allen P. "Still "Not Quite as Good as Having Your Own?" Toward a Sociology of Adoption." Annual Review of Sociology 29 (2003): 335-61. Print. Folgero, Tor. "Queer Nuclear Families? Reproducing and Transgressing Heteronormativity." Journal of Homosexuality 54.1-2 (2008): 124-49. Print. Ford, Amy. Brown Babies, Pink Parents. Austin, TX: Triple M Productions, 2010. Print. Friedlander, Myrna L., et al. "Bicultural Identification: Experiences of Internationally Adopted Children and Their Parents." Journal of Counseling Psychology 47.2 (2000): 187-98. Print. Fry, Annette R. The Orphan Trains. New York: New Discovery Books, 1994. Print. Goldberg, Abbie E. "Lesbian and Heterosexual Preadoptive Couples’ Openness to Transracial Adoption." American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 79.1 (2009): 103-17. Print. Grotevant, Harold D., et al. "Adoptive Family System Dynamics: Variations by Level of Openness in the Adoption." Family Process 33.2 (1994): 125-46. Print. Groves, Martha. "Why Are You Kissing That Child?" A Passage to the Heart. Ed. Klatzkin, Amy. St Paul, Minnesota: Yeong and Yeong, 1999. 264-66. Print. Home, Alice. "Knowing You Made a Difference: Mothering Adopted Children with Hidden Disabilities." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 163-77. Print. Howell, Signe. "Kinning: The Creation of Life Trajectories in Transnational Adoptive Families." Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 9.3 (2003): 465-84. Print. Jacobson, Heather. White Mothers, International Adoption, and the Negotiation of Family Difference. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2008. Print. Kline, Susan L., Karishma Chatterjee, and Amanda I. Karel. "Health Depictions? Depicting Adoption and Adoption News Events on Broadcast News." Journal of Health Communication 14.1 (2009): 56-69. Print.

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Kressierer, Dana Katherine, and Clifton D. Bryant. "Adoption as Deviance: Socially Constructed Parent-Child Kinship as a Stigmatized and Legally Burdened Relationship." Deviant Behavior 17.4 (2006): 391-415. Print. Kupfermann, Kerstin. ""Empty Womb–Full Cradle": The Achievement of the Fullness of the Experience of Motherhood of the Adoptive Mother." The Inner World of the Mother. Madison, CT, US: Psychosocial Press, Madison, CT, 2003. 227-43. Print. Lancaster, Chloe, and Kaye W. Nelson. "Where Attachment Meets Acculturation: Three Cases of International Adoption." The Family Journal 17.4 (2009): 302-11. Print. Latchford, Frances J. "Reckless Abandon: The Politics of Victimization and Agency in Birthmother Narratives." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Bradford, Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 73-87. Print. Livingston, Kate. "The Birthmother Dilemma: Resisting Feminist Exclusions in the Study of Adoption." Adoption and Mothering. Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 58-72. Print. Melina, Lois Ruskai. Raising Adopted Children. NY: Quill / Harper Collins, 1998. Print. Mendenhall, Tai J. Adoptive Couples: Communication and Changes Made in Openness Levels1996. Print. Mott, Sarah L., et al. "Depression and Anxiety among Postpartum and Adoptive Mothers." Archives of Women’s Mental Health 14.4 (2011): 33543. Print. Pavao, Joyce Maguire. The Family of Adoption. Boston, Massachusetts: Beacon Press, 2005. Print. Pennington, Paul. "Hope after Russia’s Adoption Ban: Adopting Justice." The Washington Post 2013. Print. Pertman, Adam. Adoption Nation: How the Adoption Revolution Is Transforming America. New York: Basic Books, 2000. Print. Pietsch, Nicole. "Good Mothers, Bad Mothers, Not-Mothers: Privilege, Race, and Gender and the Invention of the Birthmother." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 2641. Print. Rich, Adrienne. Of Women Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution. New York: Norton, 1986. Print. Ryan, Scott, and Courtney Whitlock. "Becoming Parents: Lesbian Mothers’ Adoption Experience." Journal of Gay & Lesbian Social Services: Is62

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sues in Practice, Policy & Research 19.2 (2006): 1-23. Print. Sharkey, April. "Lesbian Adoption: Transcending the Boundaries of Motherhood." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 178-88. Print. Solinger, Rickie. Beggars and Choosers: How the Politics of Choice Shapes Adoption, Abortion, and Welfare in the United States. New York: Hill and Wang, 2001. Print. Timm, Tina M., John K. Mooradian, and Robert M. Hock. "Exploring Core Issues in Adoption: Individual and Marital Experience of Adoptive Mothers." Adoption Quarterly 14.4 (2011): 268-83. Print. Traver, Amy E. "Mothering Chineseness: Celebrating Ethnicity with White American Mothers of Children Adopted from China." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 10318. Print. Uhrlaub, Richard, and Nikki McCaslin. "Culture, Law, and Language: Adversarial Motherhood in Adoption." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 189-206. Print. van den Dries, Linda, et al. "Infants’ Responsiveness, Attachment, and Indiscriminate Friendliness after International Adoption from Institutions or Foster Care in China: Application of Emotional Availability Scales to Adoptive Families." Development and Psychopathology 24.1 (2012): 49-64. Print. Vardalas, Nia. Instant Mom. New York, NY: HarperOne, 2013. Print. Wall, Sarah. "Re-Thinking Motherhood and Kinship in International Adoption." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Bradford, Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. Print. Wills, Jenny Heijun. "Narrating Multiculturalism in Asian Adoption Fiction." Adoption and Mothering. Ed. Latchford, Frances J. Ontario: Demeter Press, 2012. 119-31. Print. Yngvesson, Barbara. "Negotiating Motherhood: Identity and Difference in "Open" Adoptions." Law & Society Review 31.1 (1997): 31-80. Print.

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3. Recomposing Maternal Identities Mothering Young Adult Children

JENNY JONES

INTRODUCTION A common theme mothers hear resoundingly as their children transition to adulthood, particularly in countries such as Australia, Canada and the United States of America, is the need for mothers to “cut the ties”— or, to use the American term, “launch” their children. Perceived failures to conform to these cultural beliefs often result in derogatory comments such as “Mommy’s boy” or “he’s tied to Mommy’s apron strings” aimed at the young adult son. It was these beliefs that drove the plot of the 2006 Hollywood romantic comedy film Failure to Launch. For many mothers, however, the transition of her children to young adulthood in the early phases of the twenty first century occurs within a complex range of relational realities and is, therefore, far more challenging than the cutting of the umbilical cord to which it is often likened. This chapter highlights the experiences and, in particular, the challenges and central issues encountered by “mature”1 mothers—mothers whose children are socially and culturally defined as adults. As a mother with young adult-children, my initial framework of interpretation is my own lived experiences, the anecdotes I encounter through family and friends and published autobiographical and fictional accounts focused on 65

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women’s midlife experiences. These initial interpretations are further enhanced by my scholarly interpretive frameworks of matricentric feminism and applied ethics. Most significantly, this chapter draws upon my doctoral thesis, Composing Maternal Identities: The living realities of mothers with young adult-children in twenty-first century Australia (Jones), which continues the tradition of examining motherhood as it is experienced ‘in a social context, as embedded in a political institution: in feminist terms’ (Rich ix). My doctoral thesis, however, extended this tradition by including an examination of particular maternal realities within the ethico-moral terrain in which these relational realities are entrenched. Furthermore, my doctoral research focused on the experiences of a group of self-identified Australian middle-class mothers with children aged between eighteen and thirty years of age. Both resonations and reverberations may be felt by others who are embedded in other modern Western cultures such as Canada, the United States of America, England and New Zealand. Understanding and appreciating the perspectives of “mature” mothers provides us with a unique opportunity to consider the ways that mothers are positioned by others and simultaneously the ways that mothers seek to position themselves (Massey). For instance, Adrienne Rich and Sara Ruddick—writers and scholars whose works underpin matricentric feminist understandings—both wrote their seminal texts from the position of mid-life mothers. While Ruddick concentrated her inquiries on the work mothers do, Rich made a distinction between motherhood as a patriarchal institution and mothering as experience. Rich, in particular, was concerned with articulating the social and political context in which mothers in a white, middle-class culture are positioned and the impact such positioning may have on an individual mother’s sense of self. This chapter likewise outlines the social, political but, most importantly, moral context in which “mature” motherhood is entrenched and “mature” mothering is experienced. CONTEXT AND BACKGROUND: FRAMING CONTEMPORARY EXPERIENCES OF “MATURE” MOTHERING An important first step in this chapter is to situate “mature” mothers and mothering within the context in which “mature” motherhood is experienced. This particular time in a mother’s life will also be located within the normative timeframe of a woman’s life. Attention will also be drawn 66

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to the dominant ideologies, theories and understandings shaping, guiding and influencing “mature” mothers, their experiences and their actions. Situating “Mature” Mothering As a result of the average age at which women in Australia gave birth 25 years ago, mothers with young adult-children are generally situated in the demographic known as middle-aged—they are generally aged between 50 and 65 years. Therefore, unlike the current generation of women who are birthing their children much later in life, “mature” mothers are often negotiating their child/children’s transition to adulthood simultaneously with the biological changes associated with women’s midlife. Many are also negotiating the demands of caring for elderly family members as well as assisting with the care of their grandchildren. Dominant Scholarly Frameworks Research on women’s midlife follows a number of distinct paths: the sociological, the medical/biomedical or the psychological (Ballard; Ballinger & Walker). Many scholars, particularly those with a background in social work, view women’s midlife through the lens of the family life cycle theory which was first developed in the mid twentieth century. Family life cycle theory is underpinned by the belief that the issues or problems encountered by individuals are often intimately connected with the social/familial context to which the individual is tied. Proponents of family life cycle theory believe that human beings go through a ‘natural’ life cycle, which encompasses a number of particular developmental stages and tasks. Opponents of the theory (primarily feminists) contend that the theory itself “serves a political function in limiting our [sic] perspective” (Candib 474); it is a gendered theory, which predominantly supports the white, heterosexual, nuclear, patriarchal family unit. Indeed, Lucy Candib contends that while ‘we [sic] acknowledge that individual, social and cultural experiences make each person and family unique, ...underlying [family life cycle theory] is our acceptance of the implied and occasionally explicit assumption of universality’ (475). Scholars of family life cycle theory, therefore, contend that women’s midlife involves a number of “normative midlife tasks[s],” which are predominantly aligned with the maintenance of the nuclear family unit (Blacker 300). These tasks include the realignment of the relationship be67

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tween parents; the realignment of the relationship between parent and child to an adult to adult relationship with the ‘launching’ of the child; the acceptance of new members and expansion of the family unit through marriage and birth; and the resolving of issues related to family elders as well as issues concerned with their care and finally their burial (Blacker; McCullough & Rutenberg). In noting these ‘normative tasks,’ these scholars acknowledge that women’s midlife is a time of change. The late phases of the twentieth century saw an increasing medicalisation of human life and experiences with family life cycle theory finding its way into the field of family medicine; ‘this organismic notion of the family life cycle is the dominant schema used to situate the patient in life and to picture what she or he may be going through’ (Candib 474). With this medicalisation the word ‘menopause’ has become increasingly used to describe women’s midlife (Ballard et al. 399; Ballinger & Walker; Northrup). Narrowly describing a mother’s midlife experiences in terms of family life cycle theory or as the result of biological changes, not only obscures the relational realities in her life, it endorses and reinforces the defining of her life along patriarchal gendered divisions. Furthermore, as has been argued by many feminist scholars, the universalising of the inter-related themes of biological essentialism and the social construction of the family both arise out of and give support to the dominant ideology of motherhood in Western culture (Arendell; DiQuinzio; Everingham; Leonard; Nicholson; Rich; Richardson). In challenging and countering these dominant ideologies in feminist terms, it is to an exploration of the socio-political context in which “mature” motherhood, mothers and mothering are entrenched that attention is now turned. Unearthing The Roots Binding “Mature” Motherhood, Mothers and Mothering The dominant ideology of motherhood to which contemporary “mature” mothering in Australia is entrenched is found in the master narratives—the stories which are used to support and shape the patriarchal institution of motherhood. These master narratives are constituted through readily available plots and easily recognised characters types (Nelson). Our shared cultural understandings are conveyed through these dominant narratives. Similar to other Western countries, the master narratives of motherhood in Australia have been predominantly conveyed through women’s magazines (such as the Australian Women’s Weekly) with articles and promotions 68

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supporting the expected and accepted ways in which women are predominantly positioned as well as the ways in which we, as women, ought to seek to position ourselves. As human beings, in making sense of our lives, we draw on the master narratives—or what Jerome Bruner terms canonical stories—in order to both make sense of and justify our experiences and guide our actions (Bruner). The over-riding message conveyed through the master narratives in the pre-feminist days of the 1950s and 1960s was the notion that motherhood was a women’s true calling with the ‘ideal’ mother constituted as a woman who “stayed-at-home;ir” who cared for her children with love and patience; who accommodated her children’s needs before her own; who was a self-sacrificing person; and who maintained a clean, well-organised home (Porter). Paid work, for women at this time, was just an interlude between leaving school and marrying. Through her study of Australian mothers in the 1970s, Betsy Wearing adopted the term ‘ideological traditionalist’ mother to describe this dominant ideology of such a mother. During the 1980s and 1990s the “good” mother was still conceptualised as the mother who was ‘self-sacrificing’ (Ruddick; Rich), but now the emphasis was on the child/children. Maintaining the perfect home became less important. Hayes referred to this ideology of motherhood as ‘intensive mothering’ (Hayes). The late 20th century conceptualisation of the “good” mother was described by Andrea O’Reilly in her book Mother Matters: Motherhood as Discourse and Practice as a ‘white, middle-class, able-bodied, thirtysomething, heterosexual married woman who raises her biological children in a nuclear family usually as a stay-at-home mother’ (O’Reilly 20). In early twenty-first century society, this conceptualisation is changing yet again—today the “good” mother appears to be one who successfully balances paid work with the demands of mothering and caring for her family. It is, however, important to note that it was the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s depictions of the “good” or “ideal” mother that were most influential to “mature” Australian mothers as these depictions were predominant in their early formative years and contributed to the ways in which they were positioned and simultaneously the ways in which they sought to position themselves as women, wives and mothers. In terms of “mature” motherhood, the “good” mother is idealised as the mother who willingly capitulates to modern Western philosophical ideals of atomistic individualism which predominantly promote the notion that children must distance and separate from their mother if they are to ‘assume an autonomous adult identity’ (O’Reilly 243). 69

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The Terrain of “Mature” Motherhood Similar to other times in a mother’s life, the transition of her children to adulthood does not sit in isolation from other dimensions of her life. As well as encompassing the ‘demands of mothering’ all mothers encounter (Ruddick), “mature” mothers are called to negotiate, in varying degrees, the contraction of the family unit, the expansion of the family unit, issues related to the health, wellbeing and care of elder family members and the realignment of relationships between husband and wife, the demands of grandparenting, and the changing meaning of work, as noted earlier. For some mothers, this phase can be particularly troublesome. For others, it is a time of edification and opportunity; of new found freedom and joy. In order to understand the challenges and possibilities within the context of “mature” mothering, the terrain—the specific context in which “mature” mothering is enacted—will be outlined. Family Contraction, “Empty Nests,” “Crowded houses” and “Revolving Front Doors” A child’s transition to adulthood—or launching as it is referred to in North America—brings with it changes to the family unit. In family life cycle literature this time of change is referred to as the time of family ‘contraction’ (Blacker 300; Aylmer). As normative patriarchal frameworks charge mothers with the primary responsibility of meeting the demands of mothering—the growing, training and socialising of children (Ruddick)—“mature” mothers are seen, and perhaps held, as the parent most responsible for the successful “launching” of their child. While successful transition through this stage is seen as crucial for a child’s future development, this time of familial and personal change is often viewed as a troubling and troublesome time for mothers, but not only mothers. While the “empty nest”—the term given to the family home after the last child leaves—is promoted as the reason behind the troubles some women experience at this time in their life, in reality many family homes are rarely empty (Aquilino; Browne; Gullette). For instance, during the 1940s, 50s and 60s young adult-children, single and married, often remained living in their or their partner’s childhood family home. Such a situation was often instigated as a money saving strategy so that the young people could achieve the Australian dream of home ownership. Today, the number of children continuing to live longer in the family 70

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home is increasing; ‘the number of 15 to 24-year-old Queenslanders living in the family home has risen from 56 per cent to 62 per cent in the past seven years’ (Groundwater). Some authors suggest that the increase in statistics is linked to increased financial dependence by adult-children (Gordon; Hartung & Sweeney; Manne). Others suggest it is taking longer to establish careers (Fynes-Clinton; Manne). Yet others contend that, with the increase in life expectancy, it is taking longer for adulthood to be reached (Hartung & Sweeney 1991). In exploring these demographic changes, Anne Manne suggests the changes are linked to the rise of commercialisation and the casualisation of the workforce (Manne). But the predominant reason, in Manne’s view, appears to be increasing ‘cost of living’ (Manne 25). The result of these social changes is that many families are now finding their homes crowded, and at times “packed to the rafters”! Along with the continued residence of adult-children in the family home, another new social phenomenon has been identified in popular and mainstream Australian publications—the “revolving front door” or the “boomerang generation;” adult children are returning to live in their parents’ home—sometimes after relationship breakdowns, sometimes after adventures overseas and sometimes with their partners (Clemens & Axelson; Franklin; Groundwater; Hartung & Sweeney; Jackson; Johnson & Wilkinson; McLean). Family Expansion The terrain of “mature” motherhood also includes issues related to the expansion of the family unit to incorporate new members through the marriage or co-habitation arrangements of the younger family members. Difficulties in establishing a new family structure may arise if the child chooses a partner as a reaction to, or as a way of distancing her/him-self from, the parents (Blacker). Such difficulties are thought to be associated with earlier unresolved issues (Blacker). The “mature” woman in this new expanded family structure is positioned as both mother and mother-in-law. While “mature” mothers have always been positioned, upon the marriage of her child, as a mother-in-law, the conditions—both social and living—upon which this identity has been constituted have undergone significant change in more recent times. For many women, a quasi mother-inlaw identity has been constituted through the “closer” relationships young adult-children and their partners/friends have with parents in the crowded house. 71

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Grandparenting While becoming grandparents is often occurring later than expected, the role of grandparents—particularly grandmothers—has undergone significant change in more recent times: [g]randparents of previous generations had important roles as mentors, offering emotional support, but, generally, were not called upon to provide the level of childcare, financial and moral support that’s expected by many of today’s parents from their parents. (Barker 139) The financial and moral support a parent offers their child in terms of the care of the child’s child is hard to quantify; however, research shows that grandparents are being increasingly called upon to provide care to their pre-school grandchildren and out-of-school hours care—particularly during school holiday time—to their older grandchildren. The reasons for these changes include the increasing expectation that mothers return to the paid workforce within a short timeframe after the birth of a child, the impact of drug abuse on a child’s ability to care for her/her own child/ren; the current divorce rate and the premature death of the grandchild’s parents (Barker; Dann). Many “mature” mothers who assist in the childcare of their grandchildren are also caring for older family members. Elder Care & the “Sandwich Generation” The provision of care to elder family members is an important aspect of family life across many differing cultures. In contemporary Australian society, the provision of this care is increasingly being reported as burdensome and troubling, particularly for the current midlife generation identified as “baby boomers,” with the term the “sandwich generation” used to define the generational space in which these “boomers” are often being positioned (Power; Hutchinson; Davies; McGoldrick; Walsh). The reasons framing such familial pressures include the increasing life expectancy of elder family members and the increasing dependency of young adult-children on their parents resulting in three generations often residing together in the family home (Power). While such a situation was not unusual for some families in previous generations (Jones), the high number of midlife women participating in the paid workforce is placing pressure on the provision of care within the family unit and on the lives of midlife women, particularly “mature” 72

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mothers; ‘many of those women caught between the generations are in the prime of their career, and are often forced to cut back on paid work–or quit altogether–with dire financial consequences’ (Hutchinson). The Changing Meaning of Work With their formative and early mothering years firmly entrenched in ‘ideological traditionalist’ (Wearing) conceptions of motherhood which constituted mothering and homemaking as “women’s work,” the changing meaning of work and cultural expectations that all mothers engage in both paid work and traditional caring work creates new challenges for many “mature” mothers. For some, these challenges are associated with the departure of their children from the family home and a resultant loss of a sense of self and meaning in their life. For others, the challenge is clearly linked to regaining a foothold in the public workspace with lapsed or outdated qualifications or a perceived lack of experience prompting the need for re-training. If employed, many “mature” mothers may encounter ‘the glass ceiling of age’ (Ballard et al., citing Bernard et al.)—the social expectations of retirement may both dampen their new-found freedom, joy and financial independence and limit their ability to progress further in their career. Having situated “mature” mothers and mothering within the broader terrain of motherhood and a woman’s life and outlined the dominant scholarly and ideological frameworks, attention now turns to the challenges and central issues, followed by the possibilities, encountered within the terrain of “mature” motherhood. THE CENTRAL ISSUES AND CHALLENGES OF “MATURE” MOTHERHOOD To be mother is to be committed to meeting these demands by works of preservative love, nurturance, and training. (Ruddick 17) Identity, maternal vulnerability and the paradox of separation and dependency A child’s transition to adulthood marks the time of family contraction, a time of great change associated with a child’s “launching,” and which is seen

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as a normative midlife task for mothers. The resultant “empty nest” is often perceived to be at the heart of a mother’s “troubles:” The departure of the last child from home, the so-called “empty-nest” transition, is typically viewed as a difficult time for married women. This event marks the end of the most intense phase of a woman’s career as a mother, usually considered the most important source of a women’s identity. The end of the active mothering role leaves a gap of time and energy for a woman and could be considered similar to retirement from the paid work force. Some women are able to cope with this crisis and creatively rechannel these energies into other areas, whereas others descend into depression and feelings of uselessness. (Black & Hill 282; see also Blacker) This time of “launching” and its associated “empty nest,” however, provides “mature” mothers with the opportunity to reflect, to gain a perspective on their life lived and what their future possibilities are now that the intensive, demanding days of active mothering and homemaking have past. The central issue encountered through their reflections concerns questions of identity—questions related to their sense of who they are (Jezek; Jones) and who they are becoming as they head towards older age (Jones). Associated with these questions of identity and selfhood is a heightened awareness of one’s own vulnerability (Jones); relationships change, peers become ill and sometimes die, parents get older with the aging process often placing new demands on conceptions of care-giving. While it is well acknowledged that children are vulnerable and demand care and nurturing for their growth and development, maternal vulnerability is much less spoken about and, perhaps, understood. The paradox of separation and dependence—highlighted by their child/ren’s transition to adulthood—is seen as central to the identity challenges and felt vulnerability many “mature” mother experience. This paradox is firmly entrenched in notions of atomistic individualism and disengaged freedom—the belief that human beings are free to make rational decisions unencumbered by the needs, demands or expectations of others (Isaacs). The self conceptualised through these frameworks of disengaged freedom is defined as “the punctual self” (Taylor 171) who is free of the control or influence of others through the de-contextualisation of familial, social, cultural, institutional, political, but most importantly, moral frameworks of meaning (Jones 81). 74

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This paradox causes many “mature” mothers to feel conflicted between their felt responsibility as a mother and the social and moral norms of adulthood within their culture: ‘I’m not there to do anything but at the same time, because she’s 23 and I shouldn’t have to worry about her anymore...I know I always will but she’s put herself in the position, wittingly or unknowingly, um she’s put herself in the position where she has been extremely vulnerable and unaware of the danger.’ (Violet quoted in Jones) Some mothers speak of feeling a sense of powerlessness in relation to their young adult-child/ren. Whether this sense of powerlessness is framed by the young person’s particular temperament, the transitioning of the child to adulthood or a mixture of both is uncertain. I think because of external influences ...I’ve, yes ....I have lost control to a point. Um, not so much with Grace [her daughter] but definitely with Tony [her son]. Um, [pause] he [pause], that’s actually hard, yeah. (Frang quoted in Jones 285) This sense of powerlessness also impacts a “mature” mother’s felt sense of responsibility in relation to the demands of mothering, particularly in relation to the continued fostering of their child/rens’ continuum of personal growth. For instance, Lily, an Australian mother with three young adultchildren, speaks of the challenges she experienced in relation to the demand for preservation and nurturance (Ruddick) of her daughter—aged 21, married and living away from the family home—who suffered from anorexia and bulimia and who engaged in self-harming activities: she certainly pushes me away all the time which I find hard in my role as a mother because I really want to help her. Like in the past there’s been Angie and her problems with her partner, she’s always come to me for help. Jacob, too, and I’ve always hugged them and to hug Hennie, it’s like hugging a plank of wood. She doesn’t want to be hugged and if I start trying to have a conversation with her that she doesn’t like, she’s in the car and she’s gone...it’s very hard, it’s very hard when you’re a mother. You want to help and you can’t. It’s hard to know when to back off, that’s the hardest thing, especially when the 75

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others don’t make you back off, the others are quite happy for you to just envelope them in your arms and take care of them and give them advice um, but of the three kids she’s very independent of thought. (Jones 238) Lily’s maternal agency was constrained when her desires and attempts to both preserve and care for her daughter in the manner which had become normative for her and her family, and which were consistent with the demands of mothering—particularly the demand to protect her child from harm—were rejected by her daughter. In having her maternal agency constricted in this manner, Lily’s sense of self as a mother committed to responding to the demands of mothering was rendered vulnerable to perceived or actual harm through the judgements others made: ‘[t]eachers, grandparents, mates, friends, employers, even anonymous passersby can judge a mother by her child’s behaviour and find her wanting’ (Ruddick 111). Lily’s felt vulnerability was further heightened through her familial frameworks which constituted care as a gift endowed to a vulnerable other (Jones) and through her entrenchment to social and cultural conceptions of ‘ideological traditionalist’ (Wearing) motherhood. While Lily’s story is but one of the millions of stories “mature” mothers around the world tell, it is a story which resonates strongly with others’, particularly those who struggle with the paradox of separation and dependency (Jones)—the ambiguity inherent in Western philosophical frameworks which bind human personhood to notions of atomistic individualism and disengaged freedom. Walking on Eggshells and the Delicate Dance of Negotiation Mothers of all ages participate in “the mother dance” (Lerner)—that relationship in which a mother and her child move, at varying times, harmoniously and disharmoniously with each other. The expansion of her family unit is a time when many mothers are particularly vulnerable to “getting out of step” with their child, but not only their child. The slightest misunderstanding or misinterpretation can lead to the mother-child relationship being disrupted and in some circumstances completely fractured (Mayoh). The fear of relationship breakdown is prompting some mothers to speak of ‘“walking on eggshells” as they try to win back the affection of sons or daughters and their partners’ (Legge). Others speak of becoming a partner in ‘the delicate dance of negotiation’ (Jones). Both the fear of familial break76

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downs and the suffering experienced following such a breakdown can have a devastating impact on a mother’s sense of place and space in the family unit and home. Thereby, challenging her maternal identity—her sense of who she is and who she is becoming, particularly in relation to her grandchild/ren, present and future. Following the publication of a short article in a broadsheet Australian newspaper on the felt isolation a mother with adult-children was experiencing due to being estranged from her child, a loud cry of recognition rang from the voices of parents with adult-children, particularly mothers, in similar situations (Legge). In a subsequent article, which reported on interviews conducted with mothers who were separated from the adult-children, many mothers spoke of being ‘bewildered and bereaved by the fraught relations they now have with adult offspring who they nursed and clothed and fed and schooled and reared as best they could’ (Legge). By far, the greatest challenge reported by these estranged mothers was the ‘indescribable’ pain and grief many of them experienced as a result of the breakdown of relationships and the loss of their maternal, and in some case, grand-maternal identity; one woman stated: “”[y]ou never get over it...you’ve got all this love to give;” another felt like she was “dying inside” (Legge). Many spoke of the rejection and confusion that had entered their lives through the breakdown of these relationships: I feel totally abandoned. I probably need psychiatric help. It has been the most hurtful thing as we were once so close...I just want some answers. I wrote him a letter a couple of months ago but there has been absolute silence. I won’t shut the door but I have find a way to get on with my life. This is souldestroying; it eats away at you. What do you do?(a mother cited in Legge) While these breakdowns are causing mothers confusion and grief, they are also causing many to feel enormous amounts of shame in relation to their perceived failure to train their child ‘to be the kind of person who others accept’ and whom she herself ‘can actively appreciate’ (Ruddick 104); ‘“I feel a great shame...you feel as if you’ve failed”’ (a mother cited in Legge). Despite having expended enormous amounts of caring labour in their child/ren’s younger days, many of these mothers, in seeking to hide their shame and perceived sense of failure, silence themselves: “From my experience the ‘shame’ for mothers is so great they may deny or minimise 77

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the family schisms, condemning them to suffer in silence” a Queenslandbased family law mediator is quoted as saying (Legge). Whether a “mature” mother is positioned outside the realm of family care-giving or as a valuable member in the “village” raising the child, many “mature” mothers feel vulnerable to criticism regarding their involvement, or lack thereof, in the lives of their children and grand-children. Further impacting on the position of many “mature” mothers in the delicate dance of negotiation are the ways in which mothers, particularly mothers-in-law, are positioned through negative cultural stereotyping. In Australia, the predominant stereotype of a mother-in-law has been constituted, for many years, as an interfering, troublesome middle-aged woman. In more recent times, this stereotype has undergone change due to the breakdown of familial relationships associated with family expansion resulting in a new stereotype which constitutes the mother-in-law identity as that of a ‘wimpy [woman] who tiptoes around her son’s wife, nervously seeking her place in the family’ (Arndt 19). ‘Even when she fears her son is not being treated fairly’ (Arndt 68), many “mature” mothers are choosing to remain silent for fear of retribution. Such silencing, impacts upon a mother’s sense of place and space in the family unit which in turn impacts upon her sense of self—her sense of who she is and who she is becoming. Some “mature” mothers’ position in the “mother dance” is further challenged by the prevailing, yet contradicting, social discourses which both suggest that motherwork ends with the growth of children to culturally determined adulthood and that “good” parents continue to be involved in their child/ren’s lives. This latter notion is found in the recently new phenomenon of universities in Australia conducting ‘parent information evenings’ to assist in the child’s transition from secondary school to university. Many “mature” mothers do not see or experience their mothering role as ended at this time. Rather, many relish the opportunity to continue fostering their child/ren’s continuum of personal growth, particularly in terms of their ongoing education. However, others feel that, through their entrenchment in the care-giving narratives of the familial, social and culture groups to which they are entrenched, that they have been ‘made redundant’ in terms of having the power to assist in the preservation, growth and social acceptability of their child/ren but ‘kept in the job’ in terms of the caring labour they expend in relation to the provision of meals and housekeeping in the crowded house (Jones).

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POSSIBILITIES Grandmothering Whereas estrangement from their child/ren, particularly their sons and their child/ren, causes many “mature” mothers appalling isolation, becoming a grandmother and being involved in the lives of their grandchild/ren is predominantly described, in both popular media and broader society, as the joy in life related to aging. Unlike the greeting card sentimentality associated with master narrative accounts of mothering, the joy of being a grandmother in close relationship with her grandchild is very much experiential which yields an even greater plethora of information than mothering and motherhood. For instance, a simple Google search using the words ‘the joys of mothering’ yields 1.2 million responses. Another search using the words ‘the joys of grandmothering’ yields 45 million responses. Change the words to ‘the joys of being a mother’ and the result is 10 million responses. Change the words to ‘the joys of being a grandmother’ and the result increases to 137 million! So, what is it that makes being a grandmother so wonderful? I recall the day our first grandchild was born. Our granddaughter was just 6 hours old when we first saw her and I can still recall the whole bodily delight I felt holding this new little being for the first time—that feeling was not dissimilar to the glow and boundless joy I experienced immediately after the birth of each of our children but without any of resultant exhaustion or heightened sense of responsibility. In the three years subsequent to that day, I still experience those feelings when in the company of our granddaughter. It seems I am not alone. Acclaimed novelist and author of the feminist treatise Patriarchal Attitudes Eva Figes, writing about her experience of being a grandmother in The Guardian, states one of the joys of being a grandmother, apart from the obvious fact that the role is part-time and often optional, is the lack of stress. It is rather like the difference between marriage and a love affair. Parenthood, like marriage, is hard work, a lifetime’s commitment that brings pain as well as joy. Having a grandchild is like being in love. I know our time together is brief: the child will grow up, I will die. The very brevity of the relationship adds to its passion. I see the child’s beauty, which hits me afresh each time, and have the privilege of sharing its 79

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pristine innocence. Once my own children gave me that opportunity, but those days are gone.’ A close relationship with a grandchild/ren can have an ‘enlivening effect’ by enhancing a “mature” mother’s self esteem and overall sense of wellbeing. Some explicitly state that being a grandmother makes them ‘feel alive and young’ (Gattai & Musatti 38). Using a metaphor of seasons, Figes reiterates the vitalizing effect of being involved with her grandchild/ren’s lives but also positions it within the broader context of her whole life—‘[n]obody looks forward to old age, but the gift of grandchildren brings an unexpected glow, like an Indian summer, to the winter season’ (Figes). Being a grandmother is an awareness raising experience. Through the grandmothering relationship she has with her child/ren’s child/ren, a “mature” mother can remember and relive, in an imaginative way, forgotten incidents from her earlier mothering life. This remembering feature of grandmothering, some contend, is predominantly revealed if a grandmother has a strong physical connection to her grandchild through the provision of grandchild/ren’s care (Gattai & Musatti). Unlike being a mother, however, a grandmother is generally not burdened with the demands of mothering and the force of its associated responsibilities. Acknowledging that she is responsible for preserving, caring and nurturing her grandchild/ren when he/she/they are with her, the burden of responsibility, many grandmothers acknowledge, rests—both educationally and materially—with the child’s parents rather than his/her grandparents: [t]his is the difference. You can never detach yourself from your own children, day or night. Now, in the evening, when the hours I spend with them have passed, I come away, I feel relieved...I go home and relax. That’s the only difference. (Lina, a grandmother cited in Gattai and Musatti 38) However, being a grandmother, although viewed as a joyous and invigorating time in a mother’s life, increases the risk of old issues being revived between a “mature” mother and her adult-child/ren. This heightened risk increases a “mature” mothers’ vulnerability to perceived or potential harms through the judgements others make, particularly if she is a grandmother involved in the care of her grandchild/ren: [o]n the one hand,she has a role that may be of great material importance, which her children generally appear to appreciate, which again gives her a pre-eminent position inside 80

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the family, and involves her in a gratifying, affectively and emotionally intense relationship with her grandchild. On the other hand, the grandmother has been given the role by the child’s parents and it can be withdrawn by them at any time. (Gattai & Mussatti 35) Being a grandmother raises awareness not only of earlier experiences as a mother; it, also, raises awareness of the relationship a grandmother had with her own mother and grandmother. Again this remembering and reliving, in a spiritual as well as imaginative manner, prompts a mother to reflect on who she is and who she is becoming at this particular time in her life with these reflections, in turn, raising a “mature” mother’s awareness of the fragility of human life and the preciousness of human relationships: I sometimes feel as if my grandmother’s spirit were sitting on my shoulder, watching me play her role with approval. Life goes on, I have grown old, my children’s children are growing up in a country they can call their own. But because I lost my grandparents so early in life , I am doubly aware of the preciousness of every moment I spend with the children, not just for me, but ultimately for them. (Figes) In a similar manner to that expressed by Carol Shields (2-3) in her novel The Box Garden—‘although it’s been twenty years since I left home, her sayings form a perpetual long-playing record on my inner ear turntable’— a “matue” mother may find a deeper sense of meaning in her life, and the experiences she shares with others, by connecting, and at times reconnecting, with her motherline,. Reconnecting with her motherline may, also, bring a sense of healing to a grandmother’s life; ‘[f]or me, being a grandmother has a very particular poignancy. I came to England as a refugee from Nazi Germany at the age of six and never saw any of my grandparents again. This early loss and the awful way they died has been with me all my life, never more so than now when it is my turn to play the role of grandmother to a new generation’. (Figes) Eldercare Unlike the positioning of eldercare as a burden and ‘a midlife rite of passage no-one is ever prepared for’ (Davies, 16; see also Blacker; McGoldrick; 81

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Walsh), many “mature” mothers find that—like grandmothering—caring for family elders is an edifying experience enacted, like mothering, in a relational context (Allen & Walker 284). Drawing on Ruddick’s theory of maternal thinking and her conceptualisation of ‘the demands of mothering,’ Allen and Walker found that it was ‘attentive love’ which moved the adult caregiving daughters in their project to care for their mothers. Furthermore, Allen and Walker note that just as Ruddick believed that children ‘elicit’ care due to their vulnerability, so too it is with the elders—“because the frail elderly also are vulnerable they, too, elicit care” (288). Although these researchers found differences in the ways this vulnerability was responded to, the meanings embedded in their responses were the same—eldercare is enacted in a relational context as a response to the felt vulnerability of another, particularly another who is embedded in a loving relationship with the care-giver (Allen & Walker; see also Jones). A similar result was found in research done by a group of Canadian researchers—providing eldercare has a joyous and positive impact on women’s lives, particularly if their practices are “embedded in a discourse of caring...reciprocity, acting out of love, and finding meaning” (Wilson et al. 208). Similar findings have been reported in Australia with ninety-three per cent of the female participants in a 2003 study for the National Council of Jewish Women stating that their caring responsibilities were an extension of love and care. And although 70 per cent admitted they were also motivated by obligation and guilt, one third said they derived emotional fulfilment and satisfaction from caring. (Hutchinson) Similar to the ways in which grandmothering both creates and deepens connections between female family members, eldercare provides an opportunity for a mother to find a deeper meaning in her life as well as deepening her relationship, and commitment, to family; it brings with it the opportunity to /emphre-member—“re-membering can be used to ‘call attention to the reaggregation of members, the figures who belong to one’s life story, one’s own prior selves, as well as significant others who are part of the story’” (cultural anthropologist Barbara Myerhoff cited in Williams 92). Other Possibilities on the Horizon of Midlife The transition of a child to adulthood, while acknowledged as a difficult time in the lives of some “mature” mothers, also provides an opportunity 82

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for a mother to realise new and unimagined experiences. Mary Hutton is one such example as her life was irrevocably changed after watching a television program on the ‘milking of the Asiatic black bear’ in China (Overington 61). Despite being left feeling distressed, 55 year old Hutton, at first, could not imagine what she could do to help these vulnerable bears as she saw herself as ‘“just a housewife and a mum”’ (Overingtion 61). However, within 5 days she had acted to change the situation. She began by collecting signatures for a petition outside her local supermarket. This quickly extended to the founding of a not-for-profit organisation Free the Bears which now engages “’100 feeders and handlers in four countries’ at a cost of ‘around $70,000 per month’” (Hutton quoted in Overington 65-66). In looking back on the intervening years, Hutton now 75 contends “I was living in a bubble...It wasn’t that I didn’t love being a housewife, because I did, but I was not at all worldly” (Overington). Without having such a “worldly” impact, many other “mature” mothers experience life changing opportunities which arise—sometimes serendipitously, sometimes through meticulous planning, with the transition of her child/ren to young adulthood (Jones). However, as noted, for many others this time of transition remains troubling and troublesome. For that reason I suggest some directions for future research. SUGGESTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH Similar to Hutton, who founded the organisation to assist in the care of vulnerable bears, my life has, in recent times, undergone significant change with the growth of our children into young adults. While these changes, which mark a significant turning point in my life narrative, brought stress to my life, they have also enhanced my continuum of personal growth. During that time of change, I found myself troubled and conflicted in my desire to move forward in my life. I had imagined staying happily married but suddenly I felt very unsettled within that relationship. I had expected to continue to have loving relationships with all our children—relationships in which they sought and considered my advice but suddenly I found that my advice was sought less and less and when it was, it was often out-rightly rejected, particularly by our sons. With this sense of meaninglessness and loss of purpose, I felt the intactness of my sense of self unravelling. My sense of who I was and who I was becoming had became confused (Jones). I now appreciate that I was experiencing an “identity crisis”—not so much in pop-psychology terms but rather in terms of 83

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the ethico-moral terrain to which my life was entrenched. Indeed Charles Taylor notes: A human being exists inescapably in a space of ethical questions; she [sic] cannot avoid assessing herself in relation to some standards. To escape all standards would not be a liberation but a terrifying lapse into total disorientation. It would be to suffer the ultimate crisis of identity. (58) While mid-life identity crises are commonly joked about in my culture, through my experiences and associated inquiries and learnings, I have come to understand my time of unsettledness and disorientation as a time of moral distress—the distress felt when, despite knowing the right thing to do, “institutional constraints make it nearly impossible to pursue the right course of action” (Jameton 6, cited in Peter & Liaschenko). I have, also come to appreciate that the moral distress I experienced arose within the context of the lies of separation which promote the notion that “we must separate from our mothers...to become strong, independent individuals” (DeBold et al. 17). I also now understand I had been set up—framed—by the dominant patriarchal culture to which I am entrenched (Jones 2012). It is for all the above reasons that I contend that any future scholarship which seeks to understand, evaluate and transform understandings of motherhood must also incorporate an appreciation of what mothering means ‘for the mother, herself’ (O’Reilly 171) within the specific familial, social, cultural, institutional, political but, most importantly, moral context to which her maternal practices and life is entrenched. Such an exploration always already requires appreciatively listening to and for the plurality of voices and the multiple layers of meaning in each mother’s expressed voice (Jones). In listening appreciatively to and with these multiple voices and meanings, the familial, social, cultural, institutional, political but, most importantly, moral context from which and through which each mother’s experience is framed and to which each mother’s life is entrenched would simultaneously be revealed. In terms of understanding and appreciating the varied ways in which mothering is experienced and enacted, it appears that the ways in which a mother interprets the ‘demands of mothering’ is deeply entrenched to the ways in which care-giving has been framed within the context of her life, and particularly within the context of her life as a mother. Intimately intertwined with the framing of caregiving, are the ways in which mothers 84

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within each mother’s particular context are positioned in relation to caregiving practices, and simultaneously, the ways in which each mother within that particular context seeks to be positioned in relation to these same caregiving practices. As eldercare and grandmothering are prominent features on the terrain of “mature” motherhood, some specific directions for future research in those regards are now outlined. Eldercare Whereas the term “primary caregiver” is predominantly used to denote the parent most responsible for the primary care of their children, within healthcare settings the term is being increasingly used to define the person—predominantly the middle-aged daughter or female family member—primarily responsible for the health and guardianship matters of elder family members (Hutchinson; Davies). Anecdotally, it is suggested, that many “mature” mothers are being positioned in this manner, particularly by their mother; however, in some instances it appears that some daughters are willingly putting themselves in this position. There is no evidence to support the suggestion that this is related to the “gap” many women are experiencing in care-giving as a result of the current generation of young women delaying the birth of their first child and thereby delaying their parents’ transition to grand-parenting. However, it appears that this may also be a contributing factor to the ways in which mothers are positioned by both themselves and others, particularly in relation to eldercare. For instance, while love was found to be the motivating factor in the narratives of the aforementioned studies of eldercare-giving practices (Hutchinson; Wilson et al.; Allen & Walker), it was the ways in which the carer was positioned by both herself and others which many participants found most troublesome. For instance, one woman states that she had thought that her seven siblings would share the load, but she had since ‘realised that once someone becomes the carer, they stay the carer’ (Hutchinson). A similar finding was reported in research undertaken by a Californian researcher 14 years prior to the Australian Jewish Women’s study: the women in this study indicated that family and friends could exacerbate distress as well as alleviate it. Some women, for example, noted that their husbands resented the time they devoted to caregiving and their emotional investment in it. 85

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Children were an important source of “contagion stress” for many women. Renewed contact with brothers and sisters frequently reignited sibling rivalries. Friends who denied the significance of caregiving and siblings who criticized the type of care that was rendered also undermined the women I [sic] interviewed. (Abel 227) Furthermore, despite the fact that many “mature” women speak of elder caregiving as an enriching experience enacted out of love, a very real possibility exists that the conceptualisation of caregiving in terms of love may constrict and constrain the lives of other “mature” mothers, but not only mothers. The risk of such a possibility increases if the dominant narrative structure guiding and supporting caregiving practices is framed from and through ‘the patriarchal voice’ embedded in the master narratives told to mothers and for mothers rather than from and through ‘a matricentric feminist voice’ which speaks with mothers, but not only mothers. Grandmothering Like eldercare, the conceptualisation of grandmothering through dominant notions of love, increases the risk of “mature” mothers being coerced into being a “stay-at-home” grandmother—the term emerging in everyday language (Morton) due to the emotional ties that bind mothers, grandmothers and others. The increasing savings—predicted, in 2012, to be in the vicinity of $30 billion for the Australian government (Power)—may further increase the risk of grandmothers being exploited in relation to the “voluntary” care they provide to their grandchildren. The increased closer involvement many grandmothers are experiencing through their provision of care, furthermore, raises their risk of actual or perceived harm through the scrutinizing gaze of others, particularly in terms of cultural determinations of what constitutes “good” mothering practices. This risk, or felt vulnerability, has given rise, in some large Australian public hospitals, to the development and implementation of “refresher” courses in childcare directed particularly to grandparents (Teutsch). Hidden within these courses, however, is “the insidious voice of the maternal expert”—that voice which plagued the lives of Australian mothers, but not only mothers, during the 1950s, 60s and 70s, and which remains present to a lesser or, perhaps, more covert degree in the stories which continue to float around contemporary Australian society. 86

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With the “voice of the expert” and the “voice of maternal vulnerability” ringing loudly in her ears, a “mature” mother may be further rendered vulnerable to “getting out of step” in the “mother dance,” particularly if her experiential understandings and appreciations are not in sync with her daughter, daughter-in-law or the so called “maternal expert.” Such maternal vulnerability keeps many grandmothers “walking on eggshells” and is used by the master narratives to shape and regulate all mothers! In concluding this chapter I reflect on understandings learned through my experience of being a mother with young adult-children. CONCLUSION - THE REALISATION OF HUMAN VULNERABILITY I have come through my time of trouble, disenchantment and unsettledness. I am currently 59 years of age; I again feel happily married (to the same man); I enjoy loving relationships with my children; and, despite the fact that I am not called upon to provide childcare to my granddaughter, I have a loving, engaged relationship with her. I have also realised other possibilities in and for my life: at the age of 48 I embarked on my first overseas travel and have enjoyed multiple overseas trips since—both with and without my husband; at the age of 46 I became a mature-aged student; at the age of 50 I completed a Bachelor’s degree and was awarded a University Medal for outstanding undergraduate scholarship (Jones); at the age of 57 I completed a Doctor of Philosophy degree and received a University Outstanding Doctoral Thesis award for my efforts; I have presented papers at international conferences; and as I head into the so-called retirement year of 60 I am in the second year of my new career as a Clinical Ethicist—a career I could not have imagined had I not experienced my troubles as a mother with young adult-children and subsequently challenged myself! Sadly, I have also witnessed struggles with chronic illnesses; I have witnessed the death of my own mother and of my father-in-law; and I have observed friends of my own age reconstructing their lives after the death of their husband. Overwhelmingly, this period of personal and scholarly reflection on my life as a woman, wife, mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, daughter, sister, friend, colleague and occasional acquaintance has brought with it a greater awareness of the uncertainty of living: human life is fragile; human relationships are fragile; and all human beings experience vulnerability at certain times in their lives. 87

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NOTES 1 My

use of the word “mature” does not imply that younger mothers or mothers of younger children are “immature.” Rather, I use the term as it is generally understood as relating to those of older age. WORKS CITED Abel, E.K. “The Ambiguities of Social Support: Adult Daughters Caring for Frail Elderly Parents”. Journal of Aging Studies 3.3 (1989) : 211-230. Print. Allen, K.R. & Walker, A.J. “Attentive love: A Feminist Perspective on the Caregiving of Adult Daughters”. Family Relations 41.3 (1992) : 284-289. Print. Aylmer, R. “The Launching of the Single Young Adult”. The Changing Family Life Cycle: A Framework for Family Therapy. 2nd Ed. B. Carter, B. & M. McGoldrick. Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 1989. 191-208. Print. Aquilino, W.S. “Predicting Parents’ Experiences with Coresident Adult Children”. Journal of Family Issues 12.3 (1991) : 323-342. Print. Arendell, T. “Conceiving and Investigating Motherhood: The Decade’s Scholarship”. Journal of Marriage and Family 62 (2000) : 1192-1207. Print. Arndt, B. “Mothers in Lore Only”. The Courier Mail, January 7 2008: 19. Print. Ballard, K.D., Kuh, D.J. & Wadsworth, M.E.J. “The Role of the Menopause in Women’s Experiences of the ‘Change of Life’”. Sociology of Health and Illness, 23.4. (2001) : 397-424. Print. Ballinger, S. & Walker, W.L. Not the Change of Life: Breaking the Menopause Taboo. Ringwood, Victoria: Penguin Books. 1987. Print. Barker, Robin. “A Very Special Kind of Love”. The Australian Women’s Weekly, April. 2008: 136-141. Print. Black, S.M. & Hill, C.E. “The Psychological Well-Being of Women in their Middle Years”. Psychology of Women Quarterly 8.3 (1984) : 282-292. Print. Blacker, L. “The Launching Phase of the Life Cycle”. The Changing Family Life Cycle: A Framework for Family Therapy. 2nd Ed. B. Carter, & M. McGoldrick, Boston: Allyn & Bacon. 1999. 287-306. Print. 88

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Bruner, J. “The Narrative Construction of Reality”. Critical Inquiry 18 (1991) : 1-21. Print. Candib, L.M. “Point and Counterpoint. Family Life Cycle Theory: A Feminist Critique”. Family Systems Medicine 7.4 (1989) : 473-487. Print. Clemens, A.W. & Axelson, L.J. “The Not-So-Emtpy-Nest: The Return of the Fledgling adult”. Family Relations 34 2 (1985) : 259-264. Print. Dann, S. “Grandparents Deserve Help, Recognition”. The Courier Mail, February 14 2007: 25. Print. Davies, J.A. 2010. ”Picking Up the Pieces.” The Weekend Australian Magazine July 3-4: 16. Print. Debold, E., Wilson, M. & Malave, I. Mother Daughter Revolution: Good Girls to Great Women. Moorebank, NSW: Doubleday Books. 1994. Print. DiQuinzio, P. The Impossibility of Motherhood: Feminism, Individualism, and the Problem of Mothering. New York: Routledge. 1999. Print. Everingham, C. Motherhood and Modernity: An Investigation into the Rational Dimension of Mothering. St Leonards, Australia: Allen and Unwin. 1994. Print. Figes, E. “It’s a Nan’s World”. The Guardian. Feb 24 2003. Web. Feb 14 2014. Fynes-Clinton, M. “De Facto or Rental Pad Mean Adulthood”. The Courier Mail, November 13 2002: 4. Print. Groundwater, B. “Staying Home”. Brisbane News, April 16-22 2003: 6. Print. Gullette, M.M. “Inventing the ‘Postmaternal’ Woman, 1898-1927: Idle, Unwanted, and Out of a Job”. Feminist Studies 21. 2 (1995) : 221-253. Print. Gattai, F. B. & Mussatti, T. “Grandmothers’ Involvement in Grandchildren’s Care: Attitudes, Feelings, and Emotions”. Family Relations, 48.1 (1999.) : 35-42. Print. Hartung, B. & Sweeney, K. 1991. “Why Adult Children Return Home”. Social Science Journal 28.4 (1991): 467-481. Print. Hays, S. The Cultural Contradictions of Motherhood. New Haven: Yale University Press. 1996. Print. Hutchinson, J. “Mums of the Sandwich Generation”. May 15 2011. The Telegraph www.thetelegraph.com.au. Web. Feb 24 2014.

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Isaacs, P. “Ontology, Narrative, and Ethical Engagement”. Confessions: Confounding Narrative and Ethics. Ed. E. Milligan, E. Woodley, Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 2010. 121-142. Print. Jackson, S. The Crowded House: Surviving the New Togetherness. South Melbourne: Lothian Books. 2006. Print. Jezek, K.K. “The Meaning of Launching a Child”. Journal of Family Nursing 3.1 (1997) : 70-87. Print. Johnson, P. & Wilkinson, W.K. ”The “Re-Nesting” Effect: Implications for Family Development.” The Family Journal: Counselling and Therapy for Couples and Families 3.2 (1995) : 126-131. Jones, J.A. Composing Maternal Identities: The Living Realities of Mothers with Young Adult-Children in 21st Century Australia, Doctoral Thesis, Queensland University of Technology, Brisbane, Australia. 2012. Web. Feb 24 2014. — Ties that Bind: A Mother’s Voice on Love, Loss and the Paradox of Separation and Dependency. Unpublished Honours Thesis, Queensland University of Technology, Brisbane, Australia. 2004. Print. Legge, K. “Frozen Out”. The Weekend Australian Magazine. Nov 30 2013: 10. Web. Feb 24 2014. Lerner, H.G. The Mother Dance: How Children Change Your Life. New York: Harper Collins Publishers. 1998. Print. Manne, A. “Charity Starts (and Stays) at Home.” The Courier Mail, November 4 2002. Web. Feb 24 2014 . Massey, D. “Identity Pragmatics: Narrative/Identity/Ethics.” Confessions: Confounding Narrative and Ethics edited by E. Milligan & E. Woodley. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 2010: 35-66. Print. Mayoh, L. “The Feuds Tearing our Families Apart”. The Sunday Telegraph, January 17 2010. Web February 24 2014. McCullough, P.G. & Rutenberg, S.K. “Launching Children and Moving On”. The Changing Family Life Cycle: A Framework for Family Therapy. 2nd Ed. B. Carter, & M. McGoldrick, Boston: Allyn & Bacon. 1989: 285-309. Print. McGoldrick, M. 2005. “Women Through the Family Life Cycle”. The Expanded Family Life Cycle: Individual, Family and Social Perspectives. 3rd Ed. B. Carter & M. McGoldrick, New York: Pearson. 2005: 106-123. Print. 90

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McLean, S. “There’s No Place Like Home”. The Courier Mail, May 24 2005: 13. Print. Morton, R. “Grandparenting Not Always a Battlefield”. The Weekend Australian, Feb 1 2014. Web. February 24 2014. Nelson, H.L. Damaged Identities: Narrative Repair. London: Cornell University Press. 2001. Print. Nicholson, L. The Second Wave: A Reader in Feminist Theory.New York: Routledge. 1997. Northrup, C. The Wisdom of Menopause: The Complete Guide to Creating Physical and Emotional Health and Healing. London: Piatkus. 2001. Print. O’Reilly, A. “Introduction.” Mother Matters: Motherhood as Discourse and Practice: Essays from the Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering. Ed. O’Reilly, A. Toronto: Association for Research on Mothering. 2004: 11-26. Print. — “Mothering Against Motherhood and the Possibility of Empowered Maternity for Mothers and Their Children”. From Motherhood to Mothering: The Legacy of Adrienne Rich’s Of Woman Born. Ed. A. O’Reilly. Albany: State University Press. 2004: 159-174. Print. — “Across the Divide: Contemporary Anglo-American Feminist Theory on the Mother- Daughter Relationship” Mother Outlaws: Theories and Practices of Empowered Mothering. Ed. A. O’Reilly, Toronto: Women’s Press. 2004: 243-261. Print. Overington, C. “The Ordinary Grandmother with an Extraordinary Life”. The Australian Women’s Weekly, May 2013: 60-66. Print. Peter, E. & Liaschenko, J. “Moral Distress Reexamined: A Feminist Interpretation of Nurses’ Identities, Relationships, and Responsibilities”. Bioethical Inquiry. 10. (2013): 337-345. Print. Power, J. “The Sandwich Generation.” The Sydney Morning Herald. July 28 2012. Web. Porter, M. Transformative Power in Motherwork: A Study of Mothering in the 1950s and 1960s. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 2008. Print. Rich, A. Of Woman Born, New York: W.W.Norton & Co. 1995. Print. Richardson, D. Women,Motherhood and Childrearing. Hampshire: MacMillan. 1993. Print.

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Ruddick, S. Maternal Thinking: Towards a Politics of Peace. Boston: Beacon Press. 1995. Print. Shields, C. The Box Garden. New York: Penguin Books. 1996. Print. Taylor, C. Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity.Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 1989. Print. Taylor, C. “The Dialogical Self.” Rethinking Knowledge: Reflections Across the Disciplines. Eds. Robert F. Goodman & Walter R. Fisher, Albuny, USA: State University of New York Press. 1995 : 57-66. Print. Teutsch, D. “Bachelor of Grandparenting.” The Sun-Herald. January 29 2006. Web. Febraury 24 2014. Walsh, F. “Families in Later Life: Challenges and Opportunities.” The Expanded Family Life Cycle: Individual, Family and Social Perspectives. 3rd Ed. B. Carter. & M. McGoldrick, New York: Pearson. 2005 :307-326. Print. Wearing, B. The Ideology of Motherhood. Sydney: George Allen & Unwin. 1984. Print. Williams, M. Green Vanilla Tea. Sydney: Finch Publishing. 2013. Wilson, S., Mandell, N. & Duffy, A. “Discourses of Elder Care: How Midlife Canadian Women Act and Feel in Caring for Their Parents.” Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering 10 .1 (2008) : 207-216. Print.

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4. African American Mothering “Home is Where the Revolution Is1 ”

ANDREA O’REILLY

INTRODUCTION “During the early stages of contemporary women’s liberation movement,” bell hooks writes, “feminist analyses of motherhood reflected the race and class biases of participants” (133). “Some white, middle class, college educated women argued,” hooks continues, that motherhood was: the locus of women’s oppression. Had Black women voiced their views on motherhood, it would not have been named a serious obstacle to our freedom as women. Racism, availability of jobs, lack of skills or education...would have been at the top of the list - but not motherhood. (133) "Early feminist attacks on motherhood," hooks goes on to explain "alienated masses of women from the movement, especially poor and/or nonwhite women, who find parenting one of the few interpersonal relationships where they are affirmed and appreciated" (134-135). hook’s argument here is an important one and is crucial to understanding the difference between African American motherwork and motherhood as it is perceived and practiced in/by the dominant culture. The aim of this chapter is to explore the distinct meaning and experience of African American mothering. In particular, it will consider how the emergence of an African American standpoint on motherhood enables African American women to find empowerment in and through their work and identities as mothers. 93

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BACKGROUND AND CONTEXT Patricia Hill Collins argues in Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness and the Politics of Empowerment as well as in her many articles on Black mothering that there is a distinct African American meaning of mothering. In "The Meaning of Motherhood in Black Culture and Black Mother-Daughter Relationships," Collins emphasizes that current thinking on motherhood is organized around three assumptions which are, in her words, "particularly problematic" for Black women. She writes: First, the assumption that mothering occurs within the confines of a private, nuclear family household where the mother has almost total responsibility for child-rearing is less applicable to Black families. While the ideal of the cult of true womanhood has been held up to Black women for emulation, racial oppression has denied Black families sufficient resources to support private, nuclear family households. Second, strict sex-role segregation, with separate male and female spheres of influence within the family, has been less commonly found in African-American families than in White middle-class ones. Finally, the assumption that motherhood and economic dependency on men are linked and that to be a ‘good’ mother one must stay at home, making motherhood a full-time ‘occupation’ is similarly uncharacteristic of African-American families. (43-44) African American mothers do not assume full responsibility for the care of children nor is such childcare undertaken in the privacy and isolation of a nuclear family. Moreover, African American mothers, according to Collins, combine mothering with paid employment and enjoy greater gender equality in their own households. This distinct Afrocentric ideology of motherhood, Collins argues, emerged from West African practices of mothering. In West African culture the private/public schema of Western culture does not apply and thus, in Collin’s words, "[m]othering was not a privatized nurturing ‘occupation’ reserved for biological mothers, and the economic support of children was not the exclusive responsibility of men" (45). Rather, mothering expresses itself as both the nurturance of children—the reproductive sphere—and providing for those children—the realm of production. Collins goes on to argue that these complimentary dimensions of 94

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mothering give women greater influence and status in West African society. She comments: First, since they are not dependent on males for economic support and provide much of their own and their children’s economic support, women are structurally central to families. Second, the image of the mother is one that is culturally elaborated and valued across diverse West African philosophies, and motherhood is similarly valued. Finally, while the biological mother-child bond was valued, child care was a collective responsibility, a situation fostering cooperative, age-stratified, woman-centered ‘mothering’ networks. (45) Collins emphasizes that these West African cultural practices were retained and developed by African Americans mothers and created an alternative standpoint from which to understand and experience their specific African American maternal practice. “Every culture,” Collins explains in Black Feminist Thought, has a worldview that it uses to order and evaluate its own experiences” (10). Black women fashion an independent standpoint about the meaning of Black womanhood and motherhood. These self-definitions enable Black women to use African-derived conceptions of self and community to resist negative evaluations of Black womanhood advanced by dominant groups. In all, Black women’s grounding in traditional African-American culture fostered the development of a distinctive African American women’s culture (11). This Black female standpoint developed in opposition to and in resistance against the dominant view or what Collins calls the controlling images of Black womanhood. Collins argues that “the dominant ideology of the slave era fostered the creation of four interrelated, socially constructed controlling images of Black womanhood, each reflecting the dominant group’s interest in maintaining Black women’s subordination” (71). The four controlling images that Collins examines include the mammy, the matriarch, the welfare mother, and the Jezebel. By way of controlling images, as Collins explains, “certain assumed qualities are attached to Black women and [... then] used to justify [that] oppression” (7). “From the mammies, Jezebels, and breeder women of slavery,” Collins writes, “to the smiling Aunt Jemimas on pancake mix boxes, ubiquitous Black prostitutes, and ever-present welfare mothers of contemporary popular culture, the nexus of negative stereotypical images applied to African-American women has been fun95

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damental to Black women’s oppression” (7). Black women, according to Collins, may resist these derogatory stereotypes through the creation of a distinct Black female standpoint that is based on Black women’s own experiences and meanings of womanhood. The Black female standpoint, Collins argues, develops through an interplay between two discourses of knowledge: “the commonplace taken-for granted knowledge” and “everyday ideas” of Black women are clarified and rearticulated by Black women intellectuals or theorists to form a specialized Black feminist thought. In turn, as Collins explains, “the consciousness of Black women may be transformed by [this] thought” (20). She elaborates: Through the process of rearticulation, Black women intellectuals offer African-American women a different view of themselves and their world from that forwarded by the dominant group[...]By taking the core themes of a Black women’s standpoint and infusing them with new meaning, Black women intellectuals can stimulate a new consciousness that utilizes Black’s women’s everyday, taken-for granted knowledge. Rather than raising consciousness, Black feminist thought affirms and rearticulates a consciousness that already exists. More, important, this rearticulated consciousness empowers African-American women and stimulates resistance. (31-32) In other words, the Black female standpoint, emerging from Black women’s everyday experiences and clarified by Black feminist theory, not only provides a distinct “angle of vision on self, community and society” but also, in so doing enables Black women to counter and interrupt the dominant discourse of Black womanhood (31). The formation and articulation of a self-defined standpoint, Collins emphasizes, “is [thus] key to Black women’s survival” (26). As Audre Lorde argues “it is axiomatic that if we do not define ourselves for ourselves, we will be defined by others –for their use and to our detriment” (as quoted in Collins, 21, 45). However, as Collins emphasizes the importance of selfdefinition, she recognizes that Black women, as an oppressed group, inevitably must struggle to convey this self-definition positioned as they are at the periphery of the dominant white, male culture. Collins writes: “An oppressed group’s experiences may put its members in a position to see things differently, but their lack of control over ideological apparatuses of society 96

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makes expressing a self-defined standpoint more difficult” (26). The Black female standpoint is thus, in Collins’ words, “an independent, viable, yet subjugated knowledge” (13). Collins’ standpoint thesis provides a useful conceptual framework for understanding the challenges and possibilities of African American motherhood. To borrow from Collins’ paradigm: African American feminist/womanist theorists are intellectuals who take the core themes and develop from them a new consciousness of Black motherhood that empowers African American women to overcome the challenges of Black motherhood and realize its possibilities. CHALLENGES The African American maternal standpoint calls into question the terminology and methodology feminists have traditionally used to talk about mothering. In her 1994 article, "Shifting the Center: Race, Class, and Feminist Theorizing about Motherhood," Collins uses the term mother-work to refer to what is usually meant by nurturance, love, or mothering generally. Collins’ word choice is a significant one because it foregrounds mothering as labour, and calls attention to the ways in which mothering is sociopolitically motivated and experienced in African American culture. In this article Collins’ emphasis is on the ways in which the concerns of what she calls "racial ethnic mothers” differ from those in the dominant culture. Collins identifies the goals of "racial ethnic" mothers as: keeping the children born to you, the physical survival of those children, teaching the children resistance and how to survive in a racist world, giving to those children their racial/cultural history and identity, and a social activism and communal mothering on behalf of all the community’s children. White feminist writing has traditionally concerned itself with the loss of female identity in motherhood and argued that only by securing time away from children and creating a life outside of motherhood will women be able to maintain an autonomous identity separate from that of mother. What racial ethnic mothers fight against, in contrast, is not too much time with their children, but too little. Forced to work outside the home and frequently employed in jobs –such as domestic service– that separate mothers from their children for days, weeks, or even years, as with overseas domestics, 2 the struggle of racial ethnic mothers is to claim their identity as mothers and to fulfill the role of mother for their children. Mother-work for many "racial ethnic" 97

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women is also preoccupied with the physical survival of children. Collins explains: Physical survival is assumed for children who are white and middle-class. The choice to thus examine their psychic and emotional well-being and that of their mothers appears rational. The children of women of color, many of whom are ‘physically starving,’ have no such choices however. Racial ethnic children’s lives have long been held in low regard: African-American children face an infant morality twice that for white infants;..and one-half of African-American children who survive infancy live in poverty. In addition racial ethnic children often live in harsh urban environments where drugs, crime, industrial pollutants, and violence threaten their survival. (49) Thus, central to the African American standpoint on motherhood is a challenge to the received view that links ‘good’ mothering solely with nurturance. African American motherwork foregrounds the importance of preservation, a dimension of motherhood too often minimized and trivialized in dominant discourses of motherhood. However, as Sara Ruddick has argued, the first duty of mothers is to protect and preserve their children: “to keep safe whatever is vulnerable and valuable in a child” (80). “Preserving the lives of children,” Ruddick writes, “is the central constitutive, invariant aim of maternal practice” (19). Though maternal practice is composed of two other demands –nurturance and training– this first demand, what Ruddick calls preservative love, is what describes much of African American women’s motherwork. In a world in which, to use Patricia Hill Collin’s words, “racial ethnic children’s lives have long been held in low regard” (Forcey 49), mothering for many Black women, particularly among the poor, is about ensuring the physical survival of their children, and those of the larger Black community. Securing food and shelter, struggling to build and sustain safe neighbourhoods is what defines both the meaning and experience of Black women’s motherwork. Preservation, as Collins explains further is, “a fundamental dimension of racial ethnic women’s motherwork” (Forcey 48-49). However, normative discourses of motherhood, particularly in their current configuration of intensive mothering, define motherwork solely as nurturance. While exclusive to middle-class white women’s experiences of mothering, the normative discourse of mothering as nurturance has been natu98

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ralized as the universal normal experience of motherhood. Consequently, preservative love, such that practised by poor African American mothers is often not regarded as real, legitimate or “good enough” mothering. However, for many African American mothers, keeping children alive through preservative love is an essential and integral dimension of motherwork. Motherwork performed by racial ethnic mothers thus is not to be confused with patriarchal motherhood: an institution which is oppressive to women. As Adrienne Rich wrote in Of Woman Born: "At certain points in history, and in certain cultures, the idea of woman-as-mother has worked to give women some say in the life of a people or a clan. But for most of what we know as the ‘mainstream’ of recorded history, motherhood as institution has ghettoized and degraded female potentialities". (13) In contrast motherwork accords African American mothers authority and centrality; women in this culture are empowered precisely because they are mothers. The valuing of African American mothers and motherwork however, it must be emphasized, is specific to the culture itself. From the outside, the many differences of African American mothering are often pathologized as deviance. Normative discourses of mothering position the motherhood experience of white middle class women as the real, natural, and universal one. Alternative meanings and experiences of mothering are marginalized and rendered illegitimate. African American mothers do not mother according to the script of what constitutes good mothering — a woman at home, who does not work, is financially dependent on her husband, it totally responsible for the care of her children and no one else’s, whose mothering is centred on the emotional and intellectual development of children (not just physical), and who sees home and love purely in terms of affection (not politics). Hence, African American mothers are deemed unfit or ‘bad’ mothers. The African American standpoint on Black motherhood enables and empowers Black women to challenge the devaluation of their motherwork and more specifically the controlling images of Black motherhood — mammy, the matriarch, the welfare mother, and the Jezebel — discussed above. From this standpoint Black women are able to resist these negative evaluations of Black motherhood by rearticulating the power that is inherent in Black women’s everyday experiences of motherhood. This rearticulation centres upon a reaffirmation of the traditional roles and beliefs of Black motherhood and gives rise to an understanding and practice of mothering that serves to empower Black mothers. To this discussion I now turn.

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POSSIBILITIES Two interrelated themes or perspectives distinguish the African American tradition of motherhood, and enable African Americans mothers to find agency and empowerment in mother work. First, mothers and motherhood are valued by, and central to African American culture. Secondly, it is recognized that mothers and mothering are what make possible the physical and psychological well-being and empowerment of African American people and the larger African American culture. Black women raise children in a society that is at best indifferent to the needs of Black children, and the concerns of Black mothers. The focus of Black motherhood, in both practice and thought, is how to preserve, protect and more generally empower Black children so that they may resist racist practices that seek to harm them and grow into adulthood whole and complete. For the purpose of this discussion, I employ African Canadian theorists Wanda Thomas Bernard and Candace Bernard’s definition of empowerment: “empowerment is naming, analyzing, and challenging oppression on an individual, collective, and/or structural level. Empowerment, which occurs through the development of critical consciousness, is gaining control, exercising choices, and engaging in collective social action” (46). To fulfill the task of empowering children, mothers must hold power in African American culture, and mothering likewise must be valued and supported. In turn, African American culture, understanding the importance of mothering for individual and cultural wellbeing and empowerment, gives power to mothers and prominence to the work of mothering. In other words, Black mothers require power to do the important work of mothering and are accorded power because of the importance of mothering. The African American tradition of motherhood centres upon the recognition that mothering, in its concern with the physical and psychological well-being of children and its focus on the empowerment of children, has cultural and political importance, value and prominence and that motherhood, as a consequence, is a site of power for Black women. This chapter will examine this tradition of African American mothering under five interrelated topics: “Othermothering and Community Mothering,” “Motherhood as Social Activism and a Site of Power,” “Matrifocality,” “Nurturance as Resistance: Providing a Homeplace” and “The Motherline: Mothers as Cultural Bearers.”

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Othermothering and Community Mothering Stanlie James in “Mothering: A Possible Black Feminist Link to Social Transformations” defines othermothering as “acceptance of responsibility for a child not one’s own, in an arrangement that may or may not be formal” (45). Othermothers usually care for children. In contrast, community mothers, as Njoki Nathani Wane explains, “take care of the community. These women are typically past their childbearing years” (112). “The role of community mothers,” as Arlene Edwards notes, “often evolved from that of being othermothers” (88). James argues that othermothering and community mothering developed from, in Arlene Edwards’s words, “West African practices of communal lifestyles and interdependence of communities” (88). These complementary dimensions of mothering and the practice of communal mothering/othermothering give women great influence and status in West African socieities. These West African cultural practices, as noted above, were retained by enslaved African Americans and gave rise to a distinct tradition of African American motherhood in which the custom of othermothering and community mothering was emphasized and elaborated. Arlene Edwards, in her article “Community Othermothering: The Relationship Between Mothering and the Community Work of Black Women,” explains: The experience of slavery saw the translation of othermothering to new settings, since the care of children was an expected task of enslaved Black women in addition to the field or house duties. [...] [T]he familial instability of slavery engendered the adaptation of communality in the form of fostering children whose parents, particularly mothers, had been sold. This tradition of communality gave rise to the practice of othermothering. The survival of the concept is inherent to the survival of Black people as a whole [...] since it allowed for the provision of care to extended family and non blood relations. (80) The practice of othermothering remains central to the African American tradition of motherhood and is regarded as essential for the survival of Black people. bell hooks in her 1984 article “Revolutionary Parenting” comments:

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Child care is a responsibility that can be shared with other childrearers, with people who do not live with children. This form of parenting is revolutionary in this society because it takes place in opposition to the idea that parents, especially mothers, should be the only childrearers. Many people raised in Black communities experienced this type of communitybased child care. Black women who had to leave the home and work to help provide for families could not afford to send children to day care centers and such centers did not always exist. They relied on people in their communities to help. Even in families where the mother stayed home, she could also rely on people in the community to help...People who did not have children often took responsibility for sharing in childrearing. (144) “The centrality of women in African-American extended families,” as Nina Jenkins concludes in “Black Women and the Meaning of Motherhood,” “is well known” (Abbey and O’Reilly 206). The practice of othermothering, as it developed from West African traditions, becomes, in African American culture, a strategy of survival in that it ensured that all children, regardless of whether the biological mother was present or available, would receive the mothering that delivers psychological and physical well-being and makes empowerment possible. Collins concludes: Biological mothers or bloodmothers are expected to care for their children. But African and African-American communities have also recognized that vesting one person with full responsibility for mothering a child may not be wise or possible. As a result, “othermothers,” women who assist bloodmothers by sharing mothering responsibilities, traditionally have been central to the institution of Black motherhood. (47) Community mothering and othermothering also emerged in response to Black mothers’ needs and served to empower Black women and enrich their lives. “Historically and presently community mothering practices,” Erica Lawson writes, “was and is a central experience in the lives of many Black women and participation in mothering is a form of emotional and spiritual expression in societies that marginalize Black women” (26). The 102

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self defined and created role and identity of community mother also, as Lawson explains, “enabled African Black women to use African derived conceptions of self and community to resist negative evaluations of Black women” (26). The practice of othermothering/community mothering as a cultural sustaining mechanism and as a mode of empowerment for Black mothers has been documented in numerous studies. Carol Stack’s early but important book All Our Kin: Strategies in A Black Community emphasizes how crucial and central extended kin and community are for poor urban people of colour. “Black families in The Flats and the non-kin they regard as kin,” Stack writes in her conclusion, “have evolved patterns of co-residence, kinship-based exchange networks linking multiple domestic units, elastic household boundaries, lifelong bonds to three-generation households, social controls against the formation of marriages that could endanger the network of kin, the domestic authority of women, and limitations on the role of the husband or male friend within a woman’s kin network” (124).3 Priscilla Gibson’s article, “Developmental Mothering in an African American Community: From Grandmothers to New Mothers Again,” provides a study of grandmothers and great grandmothers who assumed the caregiving responsibilities of their (great) grandchildren as a result of the parent being unable or unwilling to provide that care. Gibson argues that “[in]creasingly grandmothers, especially African American grandmothers, are becoming kinship providers for grandchildren with absent parents. This absent middle generation occurs because of social problems such as drug abuse, incarceration, domestic violence, and divorce, just to name a few” (33). In “Reflections on the Mutuality of Mothering: Women, Children and Othermothering,” Njoki Nathani Wane explores how in Kenya precolonial African beliefs and customs gave rise to a communal practice of childrearing and an understanding that “parenting, especially mothering, was an integral component of African traditions and cultures” (111). “Most of pre-colonial Africa” explains Wane, “was founded upon and sustained by collectivism. [...] Labour was organized along parallel rather than hierarchical lines, thus giving equal value to male and female labour. Social organization was based on the principle of patrilineal or matrilineal descent, or a combination of both. Mothering practices were organized as a collective activity” (108). Today, the practice of othermothering, as Wane notes, “serves[s] to relieve some of the stresses that can develop between children and parents [and] provides multiple role models for children; [as well] it keeps the traditional African value systems of communal sharing and own103

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ership alive” (113). Othermothering and community mothering, Wane concludes, “can be understood as a form of cultural work or as one way communities organize to nurture both themselves and future generations” (113). Motherhood as Social Activism and as a Site of Power The practices of othermothering and in particular community mothering serve, as Stanlie James argues, “as an important Black feminist link to the development of new models of social transformation” (45). Black women’s role of community mothers, as Collins explains, redefines motherhood as social activism. Collins explains, Black women’s experiences as othermothers have provided a foundation for Black women’s social activism. Black women’s feelings of responsibility for nurturing the children in their extended family networks have stimulated a more generalized ethic of care where Black women feel accountable to all the Black community’s children. (49) In Black Feminist Thought Collins develops this idea further: Such power is transformative in that Black women’s relationships with children and other vulnerable community members is not intended to dominate or control. Rather, its purpose is to bring people along, to—in the words of latenineteenth-century Black feminists— “uplift the race” so that vulnerable members of the community will be able to attain the self-reliance and independence essential for resistance. (132) Various and diverse forms of social activism stem from and are sustained by the African American custom of community mothering. Community mothering, as Arlene Edwards explores in her article “Community Mothering: The Relationship Between Mothering and the Community Work of Women” has been expressed in activities and movements as varied as the Black Clubwomen, and Civil Rights movements and Black women’s work in the church. Drawing upon the research of Gilkes, Edwards elaborates: “In reporting on Black community workers, Gilkes found that these women often ‘viewed the Black Community as a group of relatives and other friends whose interest should be advanced, and promoted 104

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at all times, under all conditions, and by almost any means’ (117)” (88). Bernard and Bernard theorize Black women’s work as educators as a form of social activism. “Education,” they argue, “is considered a cornerstone of Black community development, and as such Black women, as community othermothers, have placed a high value on education and have used it as a site for activism” (68). Academic mothers, they continue, “also value education, and use their location to facilitate the education of others. [As well] academic othermothers who operate within an Africentric framework, are change agents who promote student empowerment and transformation” (68). They go on to elaborate: Collins’ definition of othermothers extends to the work we do in the academy. Othermothering in the community is the foundation of what Collins calls the “mothering the mind” relationships that often developed between African American women teachers and their Black female and male students. We refer to this as mothering in the academy, and see it as work that extends beyond traditional definitions of mentorship. It is a sharing of self, an interactive and collective process, a spiritual connectedness that epitomizes the Africentric values of sharing, caring and accountability (68). Collins argues that this construction of mothering as social activism empowers Black women because motherhood operates, in her words, as “a symbol of power.” “A substantial portion of Black women’s status in African-American communities,” writes Collins, “stems not only from their roles as mothers in their own families but from their contributions as community othermothers to Black community development as well” (51). “More than a personal act,” write Bernard and Bernard, “Black motherhood is very political. Black mothers and grandmothers are considered the ‘guardians of the generations.’ Black mothers have historically been charged with the responsibility of providing education, social, and political awareness, in addition to unconditional love, nurturance, socialization, and values to their children, and the children in their communities” (47). Black motherhood, as Jenkins concluded, “is a site where [Black women] can develop a belief in their own empowerment. Black women can see motherhood as providing a base for self-actualization, for acquiring status in the Black community and as a catalyst for social activism” (Abbey and O’Reilly 206). 105

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Matrifocality The African American model/practice of mothering, as discussed above, is distinct from the normative Eurocentric meaning and practice of motherhood in that it does not assume or expect gender inequity in the household or economic dependency of mothers as traditional wives. Significantly, as Miriam Johnson argues in Strong Mothers, Weak Wives, it is the wife role, and not the mother’s role that causes women’s secondary status in a patriarchal culture. In contrast, matrifocal cultures, such as that of African American culture, downplay the wife role and emphasize women’s mothering; hence such cultures are characterized by greater gender equality.4 In matrifocal societies, Johnson writes, “women play roles of cultural and social significance and define themselves less as wives than as mothers” (226). Matrifocality, Johnson continues, however, does not refer to domestic maternal dominance so much as it does to the relative cultural prestige of the image of mother, a role that is culturally elaborated and valued. Mothers are also structurally central in that mother as a status “has some degree of control over the kin unit’s economic resources and is critically involved in kin-related decision making processes.”...It is not the absence of males (males may be quite present) but the centrality of women as mothers and sisters that makes a society matrifocal, and this matrifocal emphasis is accompanied by a minimum of differentiation between women and men. (226) The wife identity, according to Collins, is less prevalent in African American culture because women assume an economic role and experience gender equality in the family unit. She writes: African-American women have long integrated their activities as economic providers into their mothering relationships. In contrast to the cult of true womanhood, in which work is defined as being in opposition to and incompatible with motherhood, work for Black women has been an important and valued dimension of Afrocentric definitions of Black motherhood. (48) “Whether they wanted to or not,” Collins continues, “the majority of African-American women had to work and could not afford the luxury of 106

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motherhood as a noneconomically productive, female ‘occupation’” (49). Thus, Black women, at least among the urban poor, do not assume the wife role that Johnson identified as that which structures women’s oppression. Moreover, in African-American culture, motherhood, not marriage, emerges as the rite of passage into womanhood. As Joyce Ladner emphasizes in Tomorrow’s Tomorrow: “If there was one common standard for becoming a woman that was accepted by the majority of the people in the community, it was the time when girls gave birth to their first child. This line of demarcation was extremely clear and separated the girls from the women” (215-6). 5 In African American culture, motherhood is the pinnacle of womanhood. The matrifocal structure of Black families with its emphasis on motherhood over wifedom and Black women’s role as economic provider means that the wife role is less operative in the African American community and that motherhood is site of power and empowerment for Black women. Nurturance as Resistance: Providing a Homeplace The fourth way that African American mothering differs from the dominant model and serves to empower African American mothers is the way in which nurturance of family is defined and experienced as a resistance. In African American culture, as theorist bell hooks has observed, the Black family, or what she terms homeplace, operates as a site of resistance. She explains: Historically, African-American people believed that the construction of a homeplace, however fragile and tenuous (the slave hut, the wooden shack), had a radical political dimension. Despite the brutal reality of racial apartheid, of domination, one’s homeplace was one site where one could freely confront the issue of humanization, where one could resist. Black women resisted by making homes where all Black people could strive to be subjects, not objects, where one could be affirmed in our minds and hearts despite poverty, hardship, and deprivation, where we could restore to ourselves the dignity denied to us on the outside in the public world. (42) hooks emphasizes that when she talks about homeplace she is not speaking merely of women providing services for their families; rather, she refers to 107

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the creation of a safe place where, in her words, “black people could affirm one another and by so doing heal many of the wounds inflicted by racist domination...[a place where] [they] had the opportunity to grow and develop, to nurture [their] spirits” (42).6 In a racist culture that deems Black children inferior, unworthy and unlovable, maternal love of Black children is an act of resistance; in loving her children the mother instills in them a loved sense of self and high self-esteem, enabling them to defy and subvert racist discourses that naturalize racial inferiority and commodify Blacks as other and object. African Americans, hooks emphasizes, “have long recognized the subversive value of homeplace and homeplace has always been central to the liberation struggle” (42). Like hooks, Collins maintains that children learn at home how to identify and challenge racist practices and it is at home that children learn of their heritage and community. At home they are empowered to resist racism, particularly as it becomes internalized. Collins elaborates: Racial ethnic women’s motherwork reflects the tensions inherent in trying to foster a meaningful racial identity in children within a society that denigrates people of color....[Racial ethnic] children must first be taught to survive in systems that oppress them. Moreover, this survival must not come at the expense of self-esteem. Thus, a dialectal relationship exists between systems of racial oppression designed to strip a subordinated group of a sense of personal identity and a sense of collective peoplehood, and the cultures of resistance extant in various ethnic groups that resist the oppression. For women of color, motherwork for identity occurs at this critical juncture (57). The empowerment of minority children through resistance and knowledge occurs at home, and in the larger cultural space through the communal mothering and social activism mentioned earlier. This view of mothering differs radically from the dominant discourse of motherhood that configures home as a politically neutral space and views nurturance as no more than the natural calling of mothers. The Motherline: Mothers as Cultural Bearers The motherline and the role that Black mothers play as cultural bearers and tradition keepers is the fifth and final theme that causes African Amer108

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ican mothers to find agency and empowerment in mothering. AngloAmerican feminist writer Naomi Lowinsky, author of The Motherline: Every Woman’s Journey to Find her Female Roots, defines the motherline: When a woman today comes to understand her life story as a story from the Motherline, she gains female authority in a number of ways. First, her Motherline grounds her in her feminine nature as she struggles with the many options now open to women. Second, she reclaims carnal knowledge of her own body, its blood mysteries and their power. Third, as she makes the journey back to her female roots, she will encounter ancestors who struggled with similar difficulties in different historical times. This provides her with a life-cycle perspective that softens her immediate situation...Fourth, she uncovers her connection to the archetypal mother and to the wisdom of the ancient worldview, which holds that body and soul are one and all life is interconnected. And, finally, she reclaims her female perspective, from which to consider how men are similar and how they are different. (13) Writing about Lowinsky’s motherline in her book Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss, Hope Edelman emphasizes that “Motherline stories ground a...daughter in a gender, a family, and a feminine history. They transform the experience of her female ancestors into maps she can refer to for warning or encouragement” (201). Motherline stories, made available to daughters through the female oral tradition, unite mothers and daughters and connect them to their motherline. Naomi Lowinsky argues that many women today are disconnected from their motherline and have lost, as a consequence, the authenticity and authority of their womanhood. For Lowinsky, female empowerment becomes possible only in, and through, reconnecting to the motherline. In African American society the motherline represents the ancestral memory, traditional values of African American culture. Black mothers pass on the teachings of the motherline to each successive generation through the maternal function of cultural bearing. Various African American writers argue that the very survival of African American people depends upon the preservation of Black culture and history. If Black children are to survive they must know the stories, legends and myths of their ancestors. In African American culture, women are the keepers of the tradition: they 109

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are the culture bearers who mentor and model the African American values essential for the empowerment of Black children and culture. “Black women,” Karla Holloway continues, “carry the voice of the mother—they are the progenitors, the assurance of the line...as carriers of the voice [Black women] carry wisdom—mother wit. They teach the children to survive and remember” (123). Black mothers, as Bernard and Bernard conclude, “pass on the torch to their daughters, who are expected to become the next generation of mothers, grandmothers, or othermothers, to guard future generations” (47). Alice Walker’s classic essay "In Search of our Mother’s Garden" is likewise a tribute to her African American foremothers who, in Walker’s words, "handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see: or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read" (201-202). This essay celebrates the motherline. Speaking of her own mother, Alice Walker writes: “”[S]o many of the stories that I write, that we all write, are my mother’s stories" (203). And later she describes her mother’s gardening as "Art", as a "gift", as a "legacy of respect she leaves to me, for all that illuminates and cherishes life. She has handed down respect for the possibilities –and the will to grasp them" (204). What is delineated in Walker’s piece is a theory of identity and, in particular, creativity which stands in contrast to the male paradigms of development and achievement in which separation and individualism are mandated. Walker’s essay presents a specific feminine model of creativity what I like to call the security of influence. With Black women, identity in general, and creativity in particular are formed, nurtured, and sustained though women’s identification with, connection to their foremothers. As the daughter from the splendid Canadian documentary Black Mother, Black Daughter states: “I am able to stand here because of all those women who have stood here before me" The above five themes demonstrate that mothers and motherhood are valued by and regarded as central to African American culture; as well mothers and mothering are recognized as that which make possible the physical and psychological well-being and empowerment of African American people and the larger African American culture. Black children, in particular daughters, through their connection and identification with powerful mothers, become empowered as African American people. “I come from / a long line of / Uppity Irate Black Women” begins Kate Rushin’s poem, “Family Tree.” “And [when] you ask me how come / I think I’m so cute,” Kate Rushin replies, “I cultivate / Being uppity, / It’s something / My Gramon taught me” (Bell-Scott, 176-7). Focused upon and concerned 110

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with the physical and psychological well-being of children and their empowerment, the African American tradition of Black motherhood, accords to mothers value and prominence and makes motherhood a site of power for Black women. CONCLUSION Reflecting upon the themes of this chapter, I am reminded of the chorus from Canadian singer-songwriter Jann Arden’s song “Good Mother”: I’ve got a good mother and her voice is what keeps me here Feet on ground Heart in hand Facing forward Be yourself. African American motherhood, as discussed above, bestows upon Black children a loved, strong and proud selfhood. The mother, in fulfilling these tasks of Black motherhood, becomes, to borrow the metaphor from the song, “the voice that keeps [the children] here.” She is the “heart in the hand” that enables the children to “face forward with feet on the ground and be themselves.” In other words, mothering in African American culture is what ensures physical and psychological survival and well-being and is what makes resistance possible. And in this, African American mothers, despite the oppression they experience and the many challenges they encounter find power and worth in their work and identity as mothers. NOTES 1 I am thankful to Heather Hewett for drawing my attention to this quote by

by Cecelie Berry. Please see Hewett’s article “Third-Wave Era Feminism and the Emerging Mothers’ Movement.” Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering 8 (1,2) Summer 2006; and Cecelie Barry’s article “Home is Where the Revolution Is.” 1999. salon.com. online. 2 see Migrant Mothers chapter in this volume

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and children are valued by members of this community and Black women in The Flats,” Stack continues, "unlike many other societies,...feel few if any restrictions about childbearing. Unmarried Black women, young and old, are eligible to bear children, and frequently women bear their first children when they are quite young” (47). Many of these teen-age mothers, however, do not raise their first born. This responsibility is left to the mother, aunt, or elder sister with whom the biological mother resides. The child thus may have both a ’Mama,’ the woman “who raised him up,” and the biological mother who birthed him. The mama, in Stack’s terminology, is the “sponsor” of the child’s personal kinship network; the network is thus matrilineal and matrifocal. 4 Johnson’s argument is that contemporary African American culture is matrifocal; at no time does she suggest that Black family or culture is matriarchal. Nonetheless, any discussion of matrifocality must locate itself in the infamous Moynihan report and the controversy it generated. The report described the Black family as dysfunctional and argued that the mother was to blame for the purported pathologies of the race: “In essence, the negro community has...a matriarchal structure which...seriously retards the progress of the group as a whole” (75). (The Moynihan Report: and the Politics of Controversy, Lee Rainwater and William Yancey, Eds. [1967]). Or as critic Michele Wallace put it: “The Moynihan Report said that the Black man was not so much a victim of white institutional racism as he was of an abnormal family structure, its main feature being an employed Black woman” (12). Swiftly and abruptly the report was condemned for its failure to take into account institutionalized racism to explain under/unemployment, family ’breakdown’ and so forth, not to mention the report’s blame-the-victim rhetoric and mother-blaming stance. For an excellent discussion of the Moynihan report in terms of the ideological constructions of Black womanhood see Patricia Morton, Disfigured Images: The Historical Assault on Afro-American Women, particularly chapter nine, “Rediscovering the Black Family: New and Old Images of Motherhood,” 125-35. Morton argues that [T]he 1970’s saw a veritable revolution in interpretation of the modern Afro-American family...[with] an emphasis on familial health. In contrast to the old equation of Black deviance from white middle-class norms as pathologized and dysfunctional, the new Black family studies increasingly emphasized Afro-American diversity – including familial and sexual de112

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partures from white norms – as a positive thing (126). The revisionist family scholarship set out to debunk the Black matriarchy thesis by documenting the poverty and powerlessness experienced by Black women. At the same time, the revisionist Black family studies argued that it was precisely the strength and resiliency of Black motherhood that enabled Blacks to remain whole and intact in a racist world. Paradoxically, the new scholarship exposed Black matriarchy as a myth while emphasizing the strength of Black mothers. This paradox underscores the difference between matrifocality and matriarchy and points to the ideological impasse of the Moynihan report that linked strength with domination. Scholars today often downplay the strengths of the Black mother so as to appear that they are staying clear of the controversial Black matriarchy thesis. This is evident in historical accounts of slavery, particularly the research of Herbert Gutman, The Black Family in Slavery and Freedom, 1750-1925 where he emphasizes that the slave family remained, for the most part, intact by which he means father-headed and nuclear. “It may be,” Morton writes, “that matrifocality and strong slave women were too akin to the myth of the Black matriarchy to be acceptable to contemporary historians” (133). Such a perspective keeps us locked in the Moynihan framework, pathologizing the very thing that keeps Black families viable and resilient, namely Black motherhood. Such a viewpoint also curtails honest and appreciative study of Black women. For readings in revisionist Black family studies refer to: Andrew Ballingsley, Black Families in White American and Climbing Jacob’s Ladder: The Enduring Legacy of African American Families; Robert Staples and Leanor Boulin Johnson, Black Families at the Crossroads: Challenges and Prospects; Harriette Pipes McAdoo, Ed., Black Families, and Family Ethnicity: Strength in Diversity. 5 Ladner continues:This sharp change in status occurs for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the most important value it has is that of demonstrating the procreative powers that the girls possess. Children are highly valued and a strong emphasis is placed on one’s being able to give birth. The ultimate test of womanhood, then, is one’s ability to bring forth life. This value underlying child bearing is much akin to the traditional way in which the same behaviour has been perceived in African culture. So strong is the tradition that women must bear children in most West African societies that barren females are often pitied and in some cases their husbands are free to have children by other women. The ability to have children also symbolizes (for these girls) maturity that they feel cannot be gained in any other way (216). 113

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hooks continues: [The] libratory struggle has been seriously undermined by contemporary efforts to change that subversive homeplace into a site of patriarchal domination of Black women by Black men, where we abuse one another for not conforming to sexist norms. This shift is perspective, where homeplace is not viewed as a political site, has had a negative impact on the construction of Black female identity and political consciousness. Masses of Black women, many of whom were not formally educated, had in the past been able to play a vital role in Black liberation struggle. In the contemporary situation, as the paradigms for domesticity in Black life mirrored white bourgeois norms (where home is conceptualized as politically neutral space), Black people began to overlook and devalue the importance of Black female labor in teaching critical consciousness in domestic space. Many Black women, irrespective of class status, have responded to this crisis of meaning by imitating leisure-class sexist notions of women’s role, focusing their lives on meaningless compulsive consumerism (47). WORKS CITED Abbey, Sharon and Andrea O’Reilly. Redefining Motherhood: Changing Identities and Patterns. Toronto: Second Story Press, 1998. Arden, Jann. “Good Mother,” Living Under June, CD 31454 0789 2 (1994, A & M Records, a division of PolyGramGroup Canada Inc.). Ballingsley, Andrew. Black Families in White America. Englewood, Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1968. —. ed. Climbing Jacob’s Ladder: The Enduring Legacy of African American Families. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1992. Bell-Scott, Patricia, et al. eds. Double Stitch: Black Women Write About Mothers and Daughters. Boston: Beacon, 1991. Bernard, Wanda Thomas, and Candace Bernard. “Passing the Torch: A Mother and Daughter Reflect on their Experiences Across Generations,” Canadian Woman Studies Vol. 18, Nos 2 & 3, Summer/Fall 1998. York University, Toronto: Inanna Publications and Education Inc, 1998. Collins, Patricia Hill. “Shifting the Center: Race, Class, and Feminist Theorizing About Motherhood.” Mothering: Ideology, Experience, and Agency. Eds. Evelyn Nakano Glenn, Grace Chang, and Linda Rennie Forcey. New York: Routledge, 1994. 45-65.

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—. “The Meaning of Motherhood in Black Culture and Black MotherDaughter Relationships.” Double Stitch: Black Women Write About Mothers and Daughters. Eds. Patricia Bell-Scott, et al. New York: HarperPerennial, 1993. 42-60. —. Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness and the Politics of Empowerment. New York: Routledge, 1991. Edelman, Hope. Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss. New York: Delta, 1994. Edwards, Arlene. “Community Mothering: The Relationship Between Mothering and the Community Work of Black Women” Journal of The Association for Research on Mothering 2.2 (Fall/Winter 2000); 66-84. Gibson, Priscilla. “Developmental Mothering in an African American Community: From Grandmothers to New Mothers Again” Journal of The Association for Research on Mothering 2.2 (Fall/Winter 2000); 31-41. Golden, Marita. Saving Our Sons: Raising Black Children in a Turbulent World. New York: Doubleday, 1995. Gutman, Herbert. The Black Family in Slavery and Freedom: 1750-1925. New York: Vintage, 1976. Hamilton, Sylvia. Black Mother, Black Daughter (videorecording). National Film Board of Canada, 1989. Hirsch, Marianne. The Mother/Daughter Plot: Narrative, Psychoanalysis, Feminism. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1989. Holloway, Karla and Stephanie Demetrakopoulos. New Dimensions in Spirituality: A Biracial and Bicultural Reading of the Novels of Toni Morrison. New York: Greenwood, 1987. hooks, bell. “Homeplace: A Site of Resistance." Yearning: Race, Gender, and Cultural Politics. Boston: South End, 1990, 41-49. —. "Revolutionary Parenting." Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center. Boston: South End, 1984. James, Stanlie M. “Mothering: A Possible Black Feminist Link to Social Transformation.” Theorizing Black Feminism: The Visionary Pragmatism of Black Women. Eds. Stanlie James and A.P. Busia, Routledge 1999, 44-54. Jenkins Nina, “Black Women and The Meaning of Motherhood,” Redefining Motherhood: Changing Patterns and Identities. Sharon Abbey and Andrea O’Reilly, Eds. Toronto: Second Story Press, 1998.

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Johnson, Miriam. Strong Mothers, Weak Wives: The Search for Gender Equality. Berkeley: U of California P, 1988. Joseph, Gloria I., and Jill Lewis, Eds. Common Differences: Conflicts in Black and White Feminist Perspectives. Boston: South End, 1981. Kaplan, Elaine Bell. Not Our Kind of Girl: Unraveling the Myths of Black Teenage Motherhood. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997. King, Joyce Elaine, and Carol Ann Mitchell. Black Mothers to Sons: Juxtaposing African American Literature with Social Practice. New York: Peter Lang, 1995. Kuwabong, Dannabang. "Readign the Gospel of Bakes: Daughters’ Represnentations of Mothers in the Poetry of Claire Harrise and Lorna Goodison" Canadian Women Studies. Summer/Fall 1998 vol. 19 nos. 2 & 3. Ladner, Joyce. Tomorrow’s Tomorrow: The Black Woman. New York: Doubleday, 1971. Lawson, Erica. “Black Women’s Mothering in a Historical and Contemporary Perspective: Understanding the Past, Forging the Future” Journal of The Association for Research on Mothering 2.2 (Fall/Winter 2000); 21-30. Lee, Claudette and Ethel Wilson. “Masculinity, Matriarchy and Myth: A Black Feminist Perspective” Mothers and Sons: Feminism, Masculinity and the Struggle to Raise our Sons. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly. New York: Routledge, 56-70. Lorde, Audre. Sister Outsider. Trumansburg, New York: The Crossing, 1984. Lowinsky, Naomi Ruth. The Motherline: Every Woman’s Journey to Find Her Female Roots. Formerly titled, Stories from the Motherline: Reclaiming the Mother-Daughter Bond, Finding Our Feminine Souls. Los Angeles: Jeremy P. Tarcher, 1992. McAdoo, Harriette Pipes. Ed. Black Families. Beverly Hills, C.A.: Sage, 1981. —. ed. Family Ethnicity Strength in Diversity. Beverly Hills, C A.: Sage Publications, 1993. Morton, Patricia. Disfigured Images: The Historical Assault on AfroAmerican Women. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1991. O’Reilly, Andrea. Ed. Mothers and Sons: Feminism, Masculinity and the Struggle to Raise our Sons. New York: Routledge, 2000.

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O’Reilly, Andrea and Sharon Abbey, Eds. Mothers and Daughters: Connection, Empowerment and Transformation. Rowman and Littlefield, 2000. Perry, Ruth and Martine Watson Brownley, eds. Mothering the Mind: Twelve Studies of Writers and their Silent Partners. New York: Holmes and Meier, 1984. Rainwater, Lee, and William L. Yancey, eds. The Moynihan Report and the Politics of Controversy. Cambridge: M.I.T., 1967. Rich, Adrienne. Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution. New York: W.W. 1986. Ruddick, Sara. Maternal Thinking: Toward a Politics of Peace. New York: Ballantine Books, 1989. Stack, Carol B. All Our Kin: Strategies for Survival in a Black Community. New York: Harper & Row, 1974. Staples, Robert and Leanor Boulin. Black Families at the Crossroads: Challenges and Prospects. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1993. Steele, Cassie Premo. “Drawing Strengths from Our Other Mothers: Tapping the Roots of Black History” Journal of The Association for Research on Mothering 2.2 (Fall/Winter 2000); 7-17. Turnage, Barbara. “The Global Self-Esteem of an African-American Adolescent Female and Her Relationship with Her Mother.” Mothers and Daughters: Connection, Empowerment and Transformation. Eds. Andrea O’Reilly and Sharon Abbey, 2001 Rowman and Littlefield; 175187. Wade-Gayles, Gloria. Pushed Back to Strength: A Black Woman’s Journey Home. Boston: Beacon, 1993. Walker, Alice. "In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens." In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1983. Wallace, Michele. Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman. New York: Dial Press, 1979. Wane, Njoki Nathani. “Reflections on the Mutuality of Mothering: Women, Children and Othermothering” Journal of The Association for Research on Mothering 2.2 (Fall/Winter 2000); 105-116. Washington, Mary Helen. “I Sign My Mother’s Name: Alice Walker, Dorothy West, Paule Marshall,” Mothering the Mind: Twelve Studies of Writers and Their Silent Partners, Ruth Perry and Martine Watson Brownley, Eds. New York: Holmes and Meier, 1984.

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5. Birth Mothers

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INTRODUCTION In terms of mothers, birthmothers are the least studied, understood, and served members of the adoption triad. (Freundlich) The very nature of relinquishing her child to adoption often makes the birthmother seen as a ‘not mother,’ therefore, none of the privileges or understandings of traditional motherhood are extended to her. Relinquishment and the subsequent adoption separation of her child is only a legality engineered by both society and circumstance. While her signature terminates her legal parental rights and responsibilities to her child, nothing is altered on an emotional, physical, or a permanent mental basis. In the end, a birthmother is simply a mother separated by her child; whether denied by force or a concept of choice, to be removed from the daily parenting of the child, and hence, has a unique set of norms that are unknown and foreign to the rest of society, even other mothers. While this chapter deals specifically with birthmothers created through the process of domestic voluntary infant adoption, birthmothers exist worldwide through international adoption and though removal via child protective services. There is even less research and focus on these mothers, though it is safe to assume that the emotional components of maternal infant separation are consistent even if the factors and causation remain diverse. 119

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The decision about whether to voluntarily relinquish one’s child for adoption is likely the most difficult decision a mother will ever have to make with lifelong, and often unknown, consequences. (R. C. Winkler) This chapter attempts to provide an overarching view into historic bias on adoption that has defined today’s concept of ”the birthmother” from the emergence of the legal concepts of adoption in the United States, through the Baby Scoop Era and into the practices of today’s ”Open Adoptions.” In that, this chapter discusses the central themes and issues of mothers who have relinquished their children to adoption, including an examination of the concept of choice, and the demands of the adoption market in contrast to the known consequences of loss, grief, shame, stigma and trauma. The unique challenges of a birthmother’s life as examined as are the possibilities for both future healing and much needed research. CONTEXT Historical Overview We can’t really touch on the background of birthmothers without considering the history of adoption as a whole. In the United States, the first legal procedures for adoption consents and court petitions entered the public records in the 1851 1Massachusetts Adoption of Children Act.’ The acceptance of child adoption was influenced by the Orphan Trains that ran between the years of 1854 and 1929, though opposition saw them as “scattering poison all over the country” (O’Connor) as fear of a child’s heredity was strong. Charitable institutions aimed at providing resources to keep mother and child together once served as a way to alleviate their negative tolls upon society, while supplying an avenue for “the reformation of her character” (D. M. Brodzinsky). The relinquishing of children to adoption was an act only practiced by those truly desperate, while privileged segments of the population with financial recourses had either the means to care for their children or the medical connections to terminate the pregnancies (Solinger). Adoption relinquishment does not appear to develop into a solution for a middle class woman facing and unplanned pregnancy until after World War II when the maternity homes of America experienced radical change. The supportive model of care and training moved to a psychoanalytic model of shame and punishment. The maternity homes began to promote 120

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closed, stranger adoption to married couples as the best social solution to the challenges presented by single motherhood, radically altering the outcome of single pregnancy during this period (Fessler). Social workers infiltrated maternity homes and viewing the expectant mothers as waiting to be ‘corrected,’ her sexuality was seen as ‘immoral’ and deviant in mental nature. Rather than helping mothers and children, the shift began to move to a dark, secretive realm; social workers recognized the market for babies in the infertile population, and consequently decided girls were not worthy to parent. Unwed mothers should be punished and they should be punished by taking their children away. (Hospital) ...babies born out of wedlock [are] no longer considered a social problem. . . white, physically healthy babies are considered by many to be a social boon...(National Association of Social Workers) ...society has seemed more interested in punishing the unwed mother and her illegitimate child than in understanding the social, economic, and psychological forces which have placed them in a deviant social position. (R. W. Roberts) By the 1950s, there was a very harsh view of pregnancy out of wedlock, though reports claim that half of unmarried white middle class women had had premarital sex (Kinsey). During the BSE, the maternity homes gave the American male both the answer to a wife’s infertility and solution to a daughter’s uncontrollable fertility all under the guise of covert secrecy: The bastard, like the prostitute, thief, and beggar, belongs to that motley crew of disreputable social types which society has generally resented, always endured. He is a living symbol of social irregularity, an undeniable evidence of contra moral forces...(Davis) It was considered completely unacceptable, if not impossible, to be a single mother of a “bastard.” In fact an “illegitimate birth” had a whole host of dark sins that were said to follow a child for the rest of her days: “the child born out of wedlock unavoidably suffers enough disadvantages” (Hemenway). The only way to ‘save’ a child from the marks of an illegitimate birth came through marriage or the act of surrendering the child to adoption. If

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you were a blue collar or above, white ‘nice’ girl from the shiny new suburbs and you were facing an unplanned pregnancy, there was little choice involved (Fessler). Even as late as 1970, 80% of the infants born to single mothers were placed for adoption. The landmark decision on the issue of abortion, Roe v Wade in 1973 marks an end of the official Baby Scoop Era (Solinger) and by 1974, the rates of live births, teenage pregnancy and domestic adoptions had fallen drastically. The adoption industry could no longer use the same established threats because the 1970s had given birth to the newly empowered woman. At this point, all legal documentation still referred to ‘natural mothers’ and most professional publications referred to ‘unwed mothers.’ The first documented use of the word ’birth’ as a descriptive and identifiable adjective for a mother who relinquishes is attributed to Pearl S. Buck in 1955. Adoption agency employees Annette Baran and Reuben Pannor coauthored several publications between 1974 and 1976 that used the word ‘birth’ when describing birthmothers and birth families. The semantics of birth terms were not firmly established until social worker and adoptive parent, Marietta Spencer, introduced ‘Positive Adoption Language’ as part of a campaign to change public attitudes towards adoption with a positive spin. Social service professionals and adoptive parents should take responsibility for providing informed and sensitive leadership in the use of words...For professionals, the choice of vocabulary helps shape service content. (Spence) PAL also states that terms such as “given up, relinquished or surrendered” should not be used as they “imply that children were torn out of the arms of their mothers” and introduce use of the ’make a placement plan’ for relinquishment. This change in language also implies that it is the birthmother is ’choosing adoption’ as opposed to any kind of force, lack of control or victimhood on the part of a birthmother. In describing the decision-making process birthparents go through in considering adoption as an option for an untimely pregnancy, it is preferred to use terms which acknowledge them to be responsible and in control of t heir own decisions. (Johnston) The use of languages thus serves to define a birthmother "as literally a transitional object." (Pietsch) 122

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The concept of choice becomes a central issue in the narrative for birthmothers in the future and is also mistakenly applied to many birthmothers of the BSE who didn’t have a choice. It also firmly aligns adoption as a possible ’reproductive choice’ which is then viewed as empowering to a mother facing an unplanned pregnancy. Legally, she could choose an abortion; to raise her child as a single mother; alternatively, she could choose to make an adoption plan for her child. More and more adoptions during the time frame from 1974 to the late 1990’s demonstrate increased participation from birthmothers in planning for the adoptions of their children. A little more than a decade after Roe V Wade, it was clear cut that, “adoption practices are changing partly in response to the falling relinquishment rate” (Barth). As early as 1975, discussions were turning towards ‘open adoption’ as a way to introduce a new path to adoption in response to a ‘baby population’ that ’was dwindling’ (A. Baran). Focus groups introduced the concept to knowing about their children after placement to mothers. They thought they could face and even welcome adoption for their children if they could meet the adoptive parents, help in the separation and move to a new home, and the maintain some contact with the child. (A. Baran) An open adoption allows for ongoing contact between the birth family and the adoptive family, and it is generally seen as better for the actual adoptee. An open adoption is much more appealing to mothers who would not have considered adoption under traditional closed standards thus “increasing the number of children available and decreasing the wait for an adoptable child” (Berry). In a very general way, openness benefits prospective parents because it may increase the pool of adoptable infants. For biological parents to have some continuing knowledge about their relinquished child may help them to choose adoption as an option. (Barth) While only 24 states actually recognize open adoptions, most adoption agencies do present open adoption as something that potential birthmothers have control over. Critics of open adoption record that up to 80% of promised open adoptions do end up being closed adoptions. (Dusky) Today’s birthmothers see firsthand how their baby grows up though pictures, letters and sometimes even visits and phone calls. Birthmothers 123

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not only choose adoption, but they also choose the life they imagine for their baby. (You Are Not Giving Up by Choosing Adoption) CENTRAL THEMES Removing the veils of shame and secrecy of relinquishment in the light of open adoption would seem to make the birthmother more visible, but still the outcomes of mothers who have relinquished receive little or no attention in the psychological, psychiatric or obstetric literature, nor is the mother often mentioned in the literature on adoption (Condon). Overall, the drive to understand birthmothers is motivated by birthmothers themselves who are tired of feeling alone and not able to see themselves reflected in the process or documentation of reliquishment. Loss and Grief In dealing with the loss of a child, even if one seemingly volunteers for that loss, a birthmother cannot expect to avoid the overwhelming sadness and pain associated with the separation. The separation post-relinquishment has been described by birthmothers as a type of amputation, and is often said to be so completely overwhelming and consuming that if they had known it would be so extreme, they would not have consented. Relinquishing mothers have more grief symptoms than women who have lost a child to death, including more denial; despair, atypical responses; and disturbances in sleep, appetite, and vigor. (Blanton TL) While mothers of the BSE were told they would "get over it," and open adoption moms are advised they will feel "peaceful and content after they heal," the research reports that over half of the time a birthmother’s "sense of loss had intensified over the period since surrender" (R. &. Winkler). Evidence seems to indicate the increased grief is due to both the ambiguous aspect of the loss, and is complicated by the addition of adding to the loss every year throughout the child’s life; she has now missed the first steps, her child’s first word, first birthday, toddler years, the first day of school, teaching her child to ride a bicycle. It is a process of continuous grief lasting throughout the rest of her life. Birthparents face additional complication of “disenfranchised grief.” That is, their losses are generally not afforded 124

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mourning or grieving rituals (Doka). Disenfranchised grief is more complex and more resistant to recovery than grief that is acknowledged, understood, and supported. Lack of Support and Understanding Often a birthmother does not receive help from anyone who truly understands the experience of relinquishment, but is instead met with an overall positive societal viewpoint of adoption. In general, the rest of the world often sees adoption as a beautiful, loving act that saves unwanted children and provides families for deserving parents who want and can provide a better life for them. There is a common assumption that their children are better off having been adopted than remaining with their birth family (Quiroz). The lack of understanding cuts off avenues of support and can create a very isolating emotional plane where it is difficult cope with the intense and often conflicting feelings. Birth parents consistently report that they do not talk about their feelings because somehow they believe their feelings are abnormal and out of proportion to the crisis they face (Wiley and Baden). Many people do not recognize the depth or lifelong nature of their loss, frequently echoing "get over it" or "focus on the positive." Mental health professionals generally receive little or no training related to adoption issues, and there is no body of literature or research on interventions to assist birthmothers after adoption (Smith). Guilt and Regret and Depression The guilt of relinquishment is often defined on the basis of the role she has given up and her inability to provide what was needed to be an active mother for her child. While proponents of open adoptions do say that a measure of control over the final outcome of a pregnancy does alleviate some of the more negative feelings associated with post relinquishment anger. Millen and Roll analyzed the responses of birthmothers receiving counseling for unabated grief and observed that these women demonstrated an intensification of anger at themselves and at third parties over time, rather than a lessening of these emotions. Studies have shown that 57% say they have anger (Crowell). Another study found 51% of birthmothers reported experiencing severe depression since the relinquishment, with 97% reporting some degree of depression and 63% have had thoughts about 125

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killing themselves (Kelly). Outward expressions of anger can be assumed to be directed at a lack of support that resulted as the act of relinquishment with 85% of mothers feeling that they were “misled or not informed of the effects that relinquishment would have” (Kelly). Unresolved Trauma Without the necessary skills or support or warning, many birthmothers have found that they are unprepared to understand the full implications of the experience. It is not uncommon at all for mothers to have areas of missing memories while others were so traumatized by signing the papers that they were amnesiac of it (Rynearson). Between 53% and 58% of birthmother respondents stated the surrender of their babies was the most stressful thing they had ever experienced in their lives (R. &. Winkler). Half of the respondants stated that the trauma has affected their physical health and many experience symptoms of PTSD (Wells). Choice and Social Stigmas Without the pressure of shame, placing a child for adoption is often viewed as a means to offer the child a “better life.” The concept of choice though is really based on "the abject choicelessness in some resourceless women" (Solinger 67). Miall found that people framed parenthood as a choice and thought that lack of economic security or ability to provide was a good reason to place a child for adoption. In the ’adoption messaging,’ birthmothers are portrayed as courageous, devoted, and loving for making the choice to terminate parental rights and place their child for adoption (Sweeney). CENTRAL ISSUES A common critique of most scholarly research into birthmothers often focuses on the selection of subjects. With the lack of accurate data collected in adoption overall, there has never been and probably can never be, a true polling of the collective representational numbers of the birthmother population. The issue is further clouded by past issues of shame and secrecy that continue to force many birthmothers into silence. The long term outcomes of relinquishment on birthmothers will forever remain unknown. The great majority of published studies pull from the various adoption related support groups including: in-person support, and online groups 126

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and forums related to adoption issues. Again, the critique exists that the mothers who participate in these studies already have a negative bias towards the relinquishment experience or they would not be seeking support. In response, the concept of choice is the one of the major debates. Does a expectant mother choose to relinquish her child or is it a lack of choice? While evidence from the past shows a demand for babies, there is a reluctance seen for society to accept that adoption is still a profit driven business. In 1978, Elisabeth Landes and Richard Posner drew criticism based on their 1978 adoption publication The Economics of the Baby Shortage, where they not only define the demand for adoptable children, "shortage of white babies for adoption," (Landes) but subscribes that the transactions of children to adoption could be improved by recognize the economic facts and allowing a “free market approach." For instance, seeing birthmothers as "the supplies" but recognizing that adoption agencies cannot offer "additional compensation" (Landes) to incite more mothers to relinquish. While various states do outlaw anyone from accepting money for "finding babies,” the issue of ’reasonable fees’ in adoption are often overlooked. Often, by time many prospective parents have started the process, they are firmly trusting and believing in the professionals that they are "fixated on reaching their goals that they can’t see or don’t want to see the red flags" (Pertman) Whether society would like to view it as realistic of not, the adoption industry is a 13 billion dollar industry and is largely unregulated (Adoption & Child Welfare Services Market Research Report) In 1999, the Family Research Council and the NCFA conducted a study focused on pregnancy resource centers and their low rate of adoptions. The Missing Piece: Adoption Counseling in Pregnancy Resource Centers gives recommendations to counsel expecting mothers facing and unplanned pregnancy are eerily all too familiar. Counselors must be trained to give women sound reasons that will counter the desires to keep their babies. One example is to reinforce the notion that it takes strong, mature woman to place a child for adoption. Honestly addressing the issue of financial survival as well. Counselors must communicate that adoption can be an heroic, responsible choice and that the child benefits tremendously. (C. J. Young, The Missing Piece: Adoption Counseling in Pregnancy Resource Centers) The training materials were further perfected with the 2007 publication of Birthmother, Good Mother: Her Story of Heroic Redemption. This 127

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study focuses on ways to help an expectant mother view adoption as positive option for her pregnancy that would allow her to see herself as a “good mother” while parenting her child would deem her selfish and any hopes for her future life in ruins. In choosing adoption they can now see themselves as good mothers, the highest form of motherhood – the mother who chooses what is best for her child regardless of sacrifice it requires of her. In doing what is best for her child, she fulfills her need to see herself as a good mother and accept the pain of relinquishment. In this way, she transforms agony of the entire story into a redemptive experience where she becomes a heroine in her own eyes and in the eyes of others. (C. J. Young) The studies influenced the release of $8.6 million in federal grants for a program to "establish mandatory guidelines for adoption counseling for all adolescent pregnancy programs that receive federal funding" (Leonard). The Infant Adoption Awareness Act was authorized by Congress to train staff including “health care workers, counselors, and professional staff to provide counseling and support services to those impacted by an unintended pregnancy" (National Council For Adoption) about how to speak to women about adoption "positively." The scholarly studies regarding information about possible risks of trauma and grief, and the potentially lifelong ramifications were not used in the training even though the program was federally funded. Adoption continues to be "focused on biological parent choice in placing or relinquishing parental rights" (Sweeney) whereas "choices are limited due in particular to poverty" (Gailey) whether or not that information is even being offered for consideration before making such an important ’choice.’ The concepts of controlled language and a message created with a preconceived outcome is prevalent in more recommendations about the trainings: Terminology such as "surrendering," "giving up,” or "relinquishing" should be replaced by concepts such as "developing an adoption plan," "acting in the best interests of the child," "family building," and exploring "future plans and prospects" for the young mother. (Leonard) Case law in the US, even under "modern" adoption timeframes reveal an absence of "the skilled and unbiased counseling" (Samuels) required for 128

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a birthmother to truly exercise her right to give informed consent. Also still missing is lack of adequate legal advice and understanding of the legal implications of both relinquishment laws an open adoption agreement. Most states do not have laws that maximize sound decision-making; in approximately 50% of the country irrevocable consent to adoption can be signed as soon as 72 hours after birth; in about 10% of the states, consent can be given in less than seven days after birth; and in 15% of the US states, a mother can relinquish in less than two weeks after birth (Samuels). While many adoption laws say that consent cannot be given under the influence or under duress, relinquishment consent is often take while the mother is still in her hospital bed recovering from birth. Open adoption generally reassures the biological mother about the well-being of her child and allows her to be more realistic about her choice of relinquishment (Curtis) and while the research findings consistently show that birthmothers who felt pressured into placing their children suffer from poorer grief resolution and greater negative feelings, the birthmothers who have the highest grief levels are those who placed their children with the understanding that they would have ongoing information through open adoption, but after finalization the promised ongoing contact was closed by the adoptive parents (Smith). Yet, the common thought today among expectant mothers considering adoption and birthmothers who willingly believe they have chosen open adoptions is that open adoption provides them the best of both worlds. As it has been thought by open-adoption advocates that the more a biological mother participates in the process of separation, the better she works through the relinquishment and loss (Curtis), mothers are told that ’they’ are the ones in charge and are encouraged to fully incorporate themselves in the process of "choosing" as well as build relationships with the adoptive family even before birth and all will be better. Birthmothers who have access to counseling and support at the time of relinquishment, rather than being told to go home and forget their experience, will require fewer costly and intrusive services. (Weaver) It is believed that despite the benefits of an open adoption for the child, the birthmother is subjected to re-living the relinquishment loss again and again with every visit and every continued contact with her child. The ideals of open adoption should not be presented in a way that allows a mother to 129

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think that through open adoption she can avoid the established long terms ramifications of maternal infant separation. Mothers using open adoption felt more socially isolated, expressed more difficulty with normal physical functions and had more physical symptoms, felt more despair, and expressed more dependency than their counterparts using confidential adoptions. (Blanton) Many birthmothers, however, even those who have found their open adoptions closed, still believe that they have made a true choice to relinquish and their continued grief and negative feelings are, somehow, their own fault. CHALLENGES Even in today’s open adoptions, relinquishment still is a very isolating experience. The majority of birthmothers might run across one or at the most two other birthmothers in their normal lives, and often it is not something that one announces to the public due to the lack of understanding. There is a huge disconnect between the way adoption and relinquishment is viewed from within the confines of an adoption agency as opposed to what the rest of the world thinks about adoption in general and birthmothers in particular. In an agency setting, a birthmother is often praised for her selfless act. Other adoptive parents might thank her publicly on an adoption message board for being strong and courageous. Adult adoptees might talk about how grateful they are for their own birthmothers choices and choosing life. The culture of adoption does not easily translate, however, to the outside world. Often the birthmother is portrayed in the media as irresponsible, or better left unfound, described as opening Pandora’s Box or a stalking villain attempting to get her baby back from the adoptive parents. The general public does not have the understanding of adoption that allows them to know the differences between voluntary infant adoption and a foster care situation where child protective services steps in. All adoptions are often lumped in the same bucket and all children are assumed to be unwanted and adoption saves them from physical harm or even abuse. Most birthmothers can easily explain that the grief and loss of a child through adoption relinquishment does not abate, however, many expect that it will. Often birthmothers are directly told through counseling or though the views of the non adoption affected that they will “get better” and that it is their responsibility to find a path to heal. There is an as130

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sumption that if one “does it right” that the pain can subside and the losses mitigated, rather than the acknowledgement that relinquishment does not change the biological bonding process that begins with pregnancy. A common point is to focus on the positive which is often supported by ‘updates’ sent through an open adoption; pictures of a smiling child, sometimes videos, or visits. A birthmother is told to look at how happy her child is, how well he or she is doing and to observe how she has helped make another family’s dreams come true. While these thoughts can be comforting to some, they can also be conflicting as the flip side of everyone is that she could not do the same for her child if he or she stayed with her and she could not do the same for herself. Furthermore, they force her to put the needs of all others above herself and simply ignore the very real loss that she has suffered, deeming it either of less importance or not giving it any attention at all. Mothers who did not adequately process grief immediately after the initial relinquishment, report it hitting them at other unsuspecting times in their lives; one of the most common resurgences is after being found by their adopted child years later. Other mothers who have been aware of the need to work through their grief, report ’triggers’ that have brought forth the full force of the grief, even after it had laid doormat for years. Certain aspects of birthmother grief have been known to be both expected and almost cellular in nature. The adoptee birthdays, holidays and Mother’s Day all carrying strong significance, with the adopted child’s birthday usually the most upsetting. Many birthmothers talk about trying to do their best to "button up" and "get a grip" around these times, but no matter what their mental planning, the emotional responses and memory are intuitive and unavoidable. Birthmothers often exhibit clear symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder, though a clear diagnosis of PTSD and adoption relinquishment is generally ignored by mainstream mental health professionals adding to further feelings that " it’s all in their head" or that the birthmother is somehow to blame. Little can be found on the affects of relinquishment on subsequent parenting. John Condon’s 1986 study does report what anecdotal stories of birthmothers confirm; a great majority of birthmothers become "excessively overprotective" There is a strong impression from the data that this overprotectiveness is part of the phenomenon of unresolved grief and 131

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serves both to assuage guilt and to compensate for the severe blow dealt by relinquishment to the self esteem in the area of being a good mother. (Condon) Birthmothers commonly talk about the deep fears, even panic, at the thought of having another child or having other children being taken away even if there is no known cause for such fears. Excessive worry also tends to go hand in hand with the overprotectiveness. Other mothers report difficulty bonding with a later child even though studies relatively high incidence of pregnancy during the year after relinquishment which "may be a maladaptive coping strategy that involves a “replacement baby”." (Condon) It is also fair to say that if a majority of birthmothers are finding anger, depression, continuous grief and trauma in their daily lives, that these emotions are are affecting their parenting on some level. Secondary infertility after adoption relinquishment can also be an issue, though not often discussed or researched, so it is difficult to find true statistics. Nancy Verrier observed in her research into adoption issues that 40-60% of mothers who have lost children to adoption did not go on to have other children. Another study found that out of the birthmothers who attend an adoption support groups, 40-60% have no other children (Andrews). Some birthmothers avoid another pregnancy as a conscious decision, for having another child can feel like a betrayal to the child they lost. Similarily the feelings of being "unworthy" provide a barrier to future motherhood. For a majority of birthmothers, there is no known reason for infertility, but it can be expected that the trauma adds a physiological component that does increase the chances of secondary infertility. Open adoptions add another layer of difficult to the ongoing life of birthmothers. While the promise of the ongoing relationship with her child and the adoptive parents were important factors on her agreeing to relinquish, the reality of an open adoption is often quite different than what the adoption professionals portray. There is also a difference in a completely open adoption where true identifying information is shared by both parties, and a semi-open adoption where updates and pictures might go through the agency and the parties involved still do not know each other’s personal information. The simple fact is that once a mother signs the relinquishment consent forms and the possible revocation period in which she can legally change her mind has passed, all the power in the relationships is transferred to the adoptive parents. Over half the states in the US do not recognize open adop132

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tion agreements with fewer states having any legal mechanism in place to enforce such agreements should the adoptive parents choose to change it. All too frequently a birthmother is shut out and a formerly open adoption is closed. Some reports seem to suggest that many adoptions are closed by the 5th year of a child’s life. Even if the adoption does not close, most postadoption services in the country, especially in support of birthmothers, are woefully inadequate. It is usually the birthmother who is trying to find ways to navigate an open adoption relationship and keep access to her child. Some mothers have found that they have to make sure they portray only a ’happy’ compliant public face. Others cannot show any signs of sadness of grief over the relinquishment. It can become a rather odd "dance" where a birthmother does not have the opportunity to truly be herself, but maintain a non-threatening pre-approved public persona in order to stay a part of their child’s life. The concept of the "Primal Wound" can be difficult for birthmothers as it bases the original mother-child separation as a cause of later trust issues, poor self-esteem, a lack or true-self, a sensitivity to rejection, control issues, difficulties with intimacy and disassociation on behalf of the adoptee (Verrier). It can be extremely difficult to later learn about the difficulties adoptees do face and the issues brought about through adoption. Other mothers have found themselves face to face with what is commonly called today the "angry adoptee" whether it be their own child, or another adult adoptee who is able to articulate their own feelings about losing the right to be raised within their own family of birth. Still other mothers have found that their adopted child, who they believed was going to experience a "better life" did not go on to have that life as promised. Finding a child who was abused, or not treated as well as desired, or struggled financial as adoptive parents also get divorced, lose jobs, and die is obviously very distressing and can create much guilt for birth. POSSIBILITIES One of the main issues with being a birthmother is that there is no road map. In general, the adoption professionals have little use for a mother who has relinquished. Most post-adoption services still focus much more on the role of the adoptive parents who are parenting the child, not the birth birthmother. The roles of a birthmother are often defined by the role she does 133

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not play in her child’s life, the things she cannot expect to do, the labels she cannot be called, and her role in her child’s life that often ends at birth. While decades of research has been collected, there is still very little in the way of empowerment strategies. Rather, methods and recommendations for overall healing and self-awareness of the birthmother experience affects comes from within the actual birthmother community. Reclaiming the title of mother, created through the physical act of birth and unaltered though legalities, can be extremely empowering to many birthmothers. Birthmothers can have trouble even believing themselves to be mothers. The very act of relinquishing is often built on the internalized belief that she is not good enough to be her child’s mother and a better woman is substituted. By beginning to accept the reality that she, the original mother, has value to her child even if based on the biologic connection alone, the birthmother can begin to claim some of her lost worth. Many birthmothers have also been encouraged to put the needs of both the child and the adoptive parents ahead of their own in a "selfless and courageous" light (C. J. Young Birthmother, Good Mother: Her Story of Heroic Redemption). This socially reinforced notion makes it difficult for many birthmothers to imagine themselves as the mother of their child. Even the title "birthmother" itself is meant to keep her from claiming or sharing the title of mother: "Deliberately creating the term "birthmother" was a further attempt to break the bond between mother and child" (Turski). A great number of birthmothers do find the distinctive label of ’ birth’ mother to be demeaning and have chosen to self-identify with other words or have refused the subjective label completely. While many birthmothers are under the impression that they cannot search for their child or that they must wait patiently for their child to be "ready” and search for them, the process of finding one’s child and rebuilding the relationship can be very healing, though also fraught with intense emotion. Despite what is often projected or believed in general, there are no legal precedents that prevent a mother from searching out her grown child. Most mothers will wait until the adoptee is over the age of 18 to search as the adoptive parents, can control the attempted contact. While still forgotten, hidden and encouraged by society to "move on" from the relinquishment experience, the search itself often declares that any sort of moving on was, indeed, not possible. The contact made through reunion is often said to be the "best" moments in a birthmother’s life. Mothers have reported feeling "lighter," "whole," and "finally myself" after finding their lost children. The process of 134

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reunion also often allows her to publically claim her child. It is often during a reunion that a mother will tell other family members and friends about the adoption experience. Though the lost years cannot ever be recovered, the promise of a new future reunited with the child now grown can provide new happiness and healing. Often, what the birthmother was counseled to expect does not correlate with the reality of her feelings and the overall outcome of her adoption experience. Validation and acknowledgement often come from the community of other birthmothers who often seem to be the only other people who truly understand. Through writing, documentaries, blogging or speaking about her trials, the birthmother is frequently reassured that she is not "wrong" in her feelings, but rather, there are unique similarities to other mothers who have suffered such losses. The act of telling her story can also be used as educational awareness for the public and can break down some of the common mythologies surrounding adoption and birthmother relinquishment. It also becomes a healthy outlet for residual feelings of anger at the adoption industry. Speaking out is usually a first step towards adoption activism and can entail actively assisting other at-risk mothers. A common understanding is that a birthmother cannot undo what creatde her loss, but working towards preventing the loss to another mother is a way to assauge the negative feelings and direct them toward positive change. DIRECTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH Almost every aspect of life as a birthmother calls for further research. There continues to be a lack of funding and awareness and there is lack of research on birthmothers overall. Hence, almost all areas of adoption and a birthmothers could be examined in greater and much needed detail: • Rates of secondary infertility on relinquishing mothers. • Impact of relinquishment of subsequent parenting. • Impact of relinquishment on both romantic and familial relationships. • Diagnosis and treatment of post traumatic stress disorder on relinquishing mothers. • Increases suicide risk factors in mothers who relinquish. 135

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• Depression and treatment in birthmothers. • Long term consequences of continuous and complicated grief. • Examination of the anniversary reactions in birthmothers both physiological and physical. • Further study of attachment bonds and the impact on both mother and child. • Long term effects of maternal trauma on mothers who relinquished. • Impact of open adoption and ongoing relationships to birthmothers in all aspects; grief, loss, healing, trauma, etc. • Possibilities of increased risk of birthmothers to : die younger, enter abusive relationships, require intervention of mental health professionals, suffer various addictions, etc. • Impact of relinquishment on the relinquishing mothers self esteem and self worth. • Factors that increase risk of relinquishment to women facing unplanned pregnancy. There is little research, or experience-based knowledge, about facilitating healthy grieving for birthparents. This area of practice needs much more attention, as does the development of post-adoption services (Smith). Overall, there are so many holes in the field of research that there is great opportunity for anyone to contribute to the long term study of life as a birthmother. CONCLUSION In the end, the birthmother is neither sinner nor saint. She is no different than any other woman; there are no changes in the DNA nor differences in her internal brain structure. Rather, she is the same as every other woman who has become a mother in all ways except that she has relinquished her legal right to parent her child. With that one signature, she has been changed in the most life altering ways and forever more cannot fully regain what has been lost. While some mothers might truly not want to parent, the vast majority of birthmothers both in the distant and recent past continue to 136

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report that they did want to parent their babies, but felt that they did not have the capabilities or support to do so successfully. For the greater good of all today’s birthmothers, and all mothers and children created in the future, we would be wise to pay heed to the history of relinquishment, the misbegotten views of adoption, and the realities of the birthmother’s voice. For adoption to truly be an option for a woman facing an unplanned pregnancy, she needs to be truly informed of what her life ahead looks like otherwise, as a society, we are guilty of forced adoption through omission. WORKS CITED A. Baran, R. Pannor, and A. Sorosky. “Open Adoption” Social Work March 1976: 98-99. "Adoption & Child Welfare Services Market Research Report." Jan 2013. . Andrews, I. "Secondary Infertility and Birth Mothers." Psychoanalytic Inquiry 30(1) 2010: 80-93. Barth, R. "Adolescent Mothers Beliefs about Open Adoption." Social Casework 68 1987: 323-331. Berry, M. "The Effects of Open Adoption on Biological and Adoptive Parents and the Children: The Arguments and the Evidence." Child Welfare 70 (1991): 637-51. Blanton TL, Deschner J. "Biological Mothers’ Grief: The Postadoptive Experience in Open Versus Confidential Adoption." Child Welfare 69(6) (1990 Nov-Dec): 525-35. Blanton, TL and Deschner, J. "Biological Mother’s Grief: The Post Adoptive Experience in Open Versus Confidential Adoption." Child Welfare Nov-Dec;69(6) (1990): 525-35. Brodzinsky, David M. and Schechter, Marshall D. The Psychology of Adoption. Oxford University Press, 1993. Brodzinsky, David M. "Long-term Outcomes in Adoption." The Future of Children Vol. 3 Spring 1993 (1990). Child Welfare Information Gateway. How Many Children Were Adopted in 2007 and 2008? 2011. . Condon, John T. "Psychological Disability in Women who Relinquish a 137

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Baby for Adoption." The Medical Journal of Australia (1986): 177-119. Crowell, G. "Sisters from the Society of Secrets and Lies: Why Women Chose Adoption Between 1950 and 1979." Honors Thesis. University of Texas at Arlington, 2007. Curtis, P. A. The Dialectics of Open Versus Closed Adoption of Infants. 437-446: Child Welfare LXV, 1986. Davis, Kingsley. The American Journal of Sociology. 1939. Doka, K.J. Disenfranchised Grief: New Directions, Challenges, and Strategies for Practice. Champaign, IL: Research Press., 2002. Dusky, Lorraine. Are Open Adoptions a Boon for Birth Mothers or a Scam? 2010. . Fessler, Ann. The Girls Who Went Away: The Hidden History of Women Who Surrendered Children for Adoption in the Decades Before Roe v. Wade. Penguin Books, 2007. Freundlich, M. "Access to Information and Reunion in Korean American Adoptions:A Discussion Paper." Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network. Seattle, WA., 2001. Gailey, C.W. Blue Ribbon Babies: Race Class and Gender in U.S. Adoption Practice. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2010. Hemenway, Henry & Howard, Sheldon. "Birth Records of Illegitimates and of Adopted Children." American Journal of Public Health. 1930. Hospital, Dr. Marion Hilliard of Women’s College. Daily Telegraph. November 1956. Jacobs, Wendy, B.Sc., B.A. A Keynote Address; Known Consequences of Separating Mother and Child at Birth Implications for Further Study. 2002. . Kelly, J. "The Trauma of Relinquishment: The Long-term Impact of Relinquishment on Birthmothers who Lost their Infants to Adoption During the Years 1965-1972 ." Master’s thesis. Goddard College, 1999. Kinsey, Alfred C. Sexual Behavior in the Human Female. Indiana Univ Pr, 1953. Landes, Elizabeth M. and Posner, Richad A. "The Economics of the Baby Shortage." The Journal of Legal Studies, vol 7, No. 2 (1978): 323-348. Leonard, Elizabeth L & Mech, Edmund V. Orientations of Pregnancy Counselors Toward Adoption Summary Narrative. Urbana-Champaign: Uni138

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versity of Illinois , n.d. Miall, C.E., and March, K. Family Relations 54 Community Attitudes Toward Birth Fathers’ Motives for Adoption Placement and Single Parenting 2005. Millen, L., & Roll, S. "Solomon’s Mothers: A Special Case of Pathological Bereavement." American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 55 (3) (1985): 411-418. MR, Finer LB and Zolna. "Unintended Pregnancy in the United States: Incidence and Disparities." Contraception. 2011: 84(5):478–485. National Association of Social Workers. "Social Work and Social Problems." Out-of-print, 1964. National Council For Adoption. What is the Infant Adoption Training Initiative? n.d. 1 8 2013. . O’Connor, Stephen. Orphan Trains: The Story of Charles Loring Brace and the Children He Saved and Failed. University of Chicago Press, 2004. Pertman, Adam. Adoption Nation; How the Adoption Revolution is Transforming America. New York, NY: Basic Books, 2000. Pietsch, N. "Good Mothers, Bad Mothers, Not-Mothers." Latchford, Frances J. Adoption and Mothering. Bradfod, ON: Demeter Press, 2012. 36. Quiroz, P. A. "Color-blind Individualism, Intercountry Adoption and Public Policy." Journal of Sociology and Social Welfare, 34 2007b: 57-68. Raymond, Barbara Bisantz. The Baby Thief: The Untold Story of Georgia Tann, the Baby Seller Who Corrupted Adoption. Union Square Press, 2008. Roberts, J., and Robie, D. C. Open Adoption and Open Placement. Grand Rapids, MN: Adoption Press, 1981. Roberts, Robert W. The Unwed Mother. 1966: Harper & Row, n.d. Rynearson, E. "Relinquishment and its Maternal Complications: A Preliminary Study." American Journal of Psychiatry 139(3) 1982. 338–340. Samuels, Elizabeth J. "Time to Decide? The Laws Governing Mothers’ Consents to the Adoption of Their Newborn Infants." Tennessee Law Review, Vol. 72, 2005: 509. Siegel, Deborah H. Ph.D. and Smith,Susan Livingston LCSW. Openness in Adoption: From Secrecy and Stigma to Knowledge and Connections. New York, NY: Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute, 2012. 139

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Smith, Susan. Safegaurding the Rights and Well-Being of Brithparents in the Adoption Process. whitepaper. NY: Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute, 2006. . Solinger, Rickie. Beggars and Choosers: How the Politics of Choice Shapes Adoption, Abortion, and Welfare in the United States. Hill and Wang, 2002. Spence, Marietta. "The Terminology of Adoption." Child Welfare 1979. Sweeney, Kathryn A. The Culture of Poverty and Adoption: Adoptive Parent Views of Birth Families. Ann Arbor, MI: MPublishing, University of Michigan Library, 2012. The Adoption Digger. What You Need to Know About National Council For Adoption. 2011. . The Adoption History Project. Eugenics. n.d. 2 2013. . The Adoption History Project. "Massachusetts Adoption of Children Act, 1851." n.d. The Adoption History Project. 13 8 2013. . Turski, Diane. "Why Birthmother Means Breeder." 2002. Exiled Mothers. 16 9 2013. . Verrier, Nancy Newton. The Primal Wound: Understanding the Adopted Child. Gateway Press, 1993. Vincent, Clark. Unmarried Mothers. 1961, n.d. Weaver, Ann. "Addressing the Psycho-Social Implications in Social Policy: The Case of Adoption and Early Intervention Strategies." (1998). . Wells, S. "Post-traumatic Stress Disorder in Birthmothers." Adoption and Fostering 17(2 1993: 30-32. Wiley, Mary O’Leary and Amanda L. Baden. "Birth Parents in Adoption: Research, Practice, and Counseling Psychology." Practice-Science Integration Section of the Scientific Forum Counseling Psychologist (2005). Winkler, R. & van Keppel, M. "Relinquishing Mothers in Adoption: Their Long-term Adjustment." Institute of Family Studies Monograph No. 3. (1984).

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Winkler, R. C. , Brown D. W., Blanchard A. and Van Keppel M. Clinical Practice in Adoption. Elsevier Science & Technology Books, 1988. You Are Not Giving Up by Choosing Adoption. 8 2013. . Young, Curtis J. Birthmother, Good Mother: Her Story of Heroic Redemption. Washington DC: National Council for Adoption, 2007. —. "The Missing Piece: Adoption Counseling in Pregnancy Resource Centers." 2000. Young, Leontine. "Is Money Our Trouble?" pape. National Conference of Social Workers. Cleveland OH, 1953. Zackler, Jack M.D. and Wayne Brandstadt, M.D. "Psychological and Emotional Problems of Pregnancy In Adolescence." The Teenage Pregnant Girl 1975.

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6. Disabled Mothers

GLORIA FILAX AND DENA TAYLOR

INTRODUCTION Mothers with disabilities cover a wide range of being in this world: they may have a physical condition such as muscular dystrophy or blindness, a psychiatric disorder such as being bipolar or depressed, or an intellectual impairment. Their disability may be hidden or visible, and they may be ill or not. They may be birthmothers, stepmothers, co-mothers, or adoptive mothers. This chapter will cover who is disabled, the various theoretical models (individual/medical, social and cultural models) and how these shape disability, the disabling of the disabled, what we can learn from disabled mothers, the challenges facing mothers with disabilities, how/if disabled mothering offers insights to feminist practices of mothering, and what the future may hold. BACKGROUND AND CONTEXT Disability theorist Rosemarie Garland Thomson observes that a presumed correspondence between disability and femaleness has persisted throughout the history of Western thought since Aristotle declared “the female is. . . a deformed male” (20). The Aristotelian notion that equates the nondisabled body with the male and the disabled body with the female has contributed to both sexism and ableism.

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Thomson notes that “many parallels exist between the social meanings attributed to female bodies and those assigned to disabled bodies” (19). Female bodies and disabled bodies are both assumed to be feeble bodies that “must therefore have a feeble mind” (Stone 10). Furthermore, disabled bodies are feminized by the culture and therefore considered to be dependent (Lewiecki-Wilson and Cellio 4). The association of the female body with disability has meant that “the figure of the mother is over-determined and vexed for both feminism and disability studies” (Lewiecki-Wilson and Cellio 3). In a social world where the able-bodied are constructed as the social norm, the disability is made invisible and often unspeakable. Those who cannot conceal impairments are shunned because they cannot help drawing attention to their bodily “imperfections” or hide their disability (Stone 11). Girls and women are also expected to stay in the background. Yet, it is not possible to conceal the physical evidence of later stage pregnancy and the presence of babies and children mean that mothers are highly visible. For disabled mothers concealing mothering is not an option and hence often their disability is exposed as well. Having a visible disability makes these mothers vulnerable to increased social surveillance and scrutiny with the concomitant moralizing about the capacity and quality of their mothering. In her book on mothering, Of Woman Born, Adrienne Rich provides a distressing account of the institution of motherhood for western women, an institution which is almost impossible for most women to achieve, including those who conform to social norms. While Rich did not write about disability and mothering directly, her description of motherhood as a “painful, incomprehensible, and ambiguous ground” poignantly applies to disabled mothers (15). Rich wrote about the difficulty of mothering in relation to the harshness of social norms that govern the institution of motherhood. For disabled mothers, these social norms can be even more constraining. Many disabled mothers have taken on the hydra-headed beast of social norms that make up the intersection of gender and disability in contemporary, western cultures and resist these social norms; sometimes they submit to them, often they just disappear and as often they are disappeared only to reappear as an object of another’s imagining. Who is Disabled? The question of who is to be counted among the disabled is a recurring theme in discussions of disability. Who is disabled and the meaning of dis144

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ability are much different when disability is regarded as a problem to be solved rather than as a condition that has been produced by social organizations, or when it is understood as an embodied revelation from which, among other things, it is possible to critique the imperative of normalcy. Answers to the question of ‘who is disabled?’ influence social policy, self-identity, and possibilities to affect change. These have profound effects on people’s lives. While it is useful in some circumstances to distinguish people with disabilities who are ill from those who are disabled but not ill, it is also true that many people who have physical impairments have health problems and many chronically ill people are disabled by their illnesses. Those who are ill present a challenge to the disability movement (Wolfe 253). For example, many disability movement activists reject the impulse to prevent and cure disability, while those who are ill will often look for cures and an end to their suffering. Wolfe wants the disability movement to rethink the scope of its concerns so that it does not leave ill people on the “wrong” side of those who are or are not worthy to benefit from its efforts. As Linton indicates, to count as disabled might be as simple as “you are disabled if you say you are” (225) as long as it is recognized that disability “is mostly a social distinction...a marginalized status” with this status assigned by a majority culture (Gill 44). The notion that disability labels should be reserved for the healthy disabled, or at least that they should not be extended to chronically ill people, suggests that there may be a hierarchy of what counts as a disability. Beresford suggests that some illnesses or afflictions are not easily countenanced within disability activism or disability communities for fear of their association with mental illness (167). This suggests that there is a “hierarchy of impairments” that affects how people with and without disabilities regard “impairment groups” (Deal 898). Often, defining what counts as disability falls to those who are in institutional or professional positions. Definitions are often narrow so that fewer people are entitled to benefits. Yet, public recognition of disability may be refused by some who are impaired or disabled by the culture in order to avoid social stigma. In contrast, the Deaf community regards itself as a distinct linguistic and cultural community that is only disabled by hearing people’s inability to communicate in sign language. High functioning autistic individuals who identify as Autistic regard themselves as a distinct cultural community as well. Titchkosky suggests another way of understanding disability. She represents disability as a social space that is constituted from disability iden145

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tity, relations to the disabled body that occur between people, and the ways disability identity and inter-subjective relations to the disabled body are interpreted (48). She argues that neither disability nor non-disability can be understood merely by their objectified physicality. Instead both disability and non-disability must be understood as the lived experiences of people in relation to each other. Since the relationships of disability are further impacted by other axes of difference such as gender, ethnicity, class, geographical home, and mothering, the relationships of disability are complex. Central to identification as disabled is what terms to utilize when communicating about disability. Some writers prefer “people with disabilities” to underline that disablement is not the defining characteristic of a person. Others, including Titchkosky, refer to “disabled people” to emphasize disablement as a social process, and therefore a sociopolitical matter, that prevents certain people from access to resources and goods available to others (48). Those who follow the social model of disability argue that the phrase “people with disabilities” reflects a medical approach to disability (Shakespeare 268) and weakens the idea of disabled people as an oppressed group in society (267). Titchkosky argues that the term “people with disabilities” implies that disability is not part of what it is to be a person, not quite part of personhood thus not quite part of the self, and leaves disability as a problem (24). The phrase “disabled person” points to disability as a form of interrelatedness that shifts focus away from the individual to what Frank describes as the relational way in which bodies are inscribed by culture, how the body projects itself into social space, and the boundary of these reciprocal social relations (209). And yet, “disability is not a thing, an essence, a fixed identity, or a single kind of experience, even though language often leads us to talk about it that way” (Lewiecki -Wilson and Cellio 3). Whether one identifies as a disabled mother or mother with a disability, there is a need for language that can refer to group or individual identity in order to mobilize ethical claims regarding legal rights. Reference to “the disabled” is fraught with a tension between not wanting to reduce differences between people to a singular notion while wanting to take advantage of benefits that might accrue to being identified as a single political entity. “[N]ice words such as ‘physically challenged’ and ‘special people’ ... are often used by agencies [to] control the lives of people with disabilities” (Linton 223).

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The Problem of Normalizing Discourse: Disabling the Disabled [D]isability draws the attention of fields that seek to cure, fix, repair, or deny its existence. Disability is a difference that exists only to be undone. (Snyder & Mitchell 190, italics in the original) Prior to the nineteenth century there was no concept of normal and abnormal, nor was there a concept of the disabled in relation to a standard (Davis 4). Davis describes how the field of statistics signified normal to mean what is typical or most common and, as a consequence, divided populations into standard and non-standard sub-populations. As Davis indicates, “the idea of the norm pushes. . . variation of the body through a stricter template guiding the way the body should be” (9). The emergence of a notion of normalcy, says Davis, creates the “problem” of the disabled person (10). Titchkosky notes that the most authoritative representations of disability come from medical, therapeutic, and rehabilitative researchers and practitioners, pathologists, and genetic researchers (135). Medical approaches to disability regard impairment as sickness or deformity that can and must be altered or cured through medical intervention. Similarly, a rehabilitative approach regards disability as an abnormality or a deficiency that can be altered by professionals. Social science research for the most part has taken for granted the approach that disability is problem, while regarding disability as deviance that can be altered through expert intervention. One of the effects of the problem approach to disability, argues Titchkosky, is that it teaches people who are not disabled that their discomfort in the company of those with disabilities can be attributed to the people with disabilities and that it is not related to interpretation and interaction (141). Normalcy, according to Goffman, is a position from which one recognizes who is stigmatized (5). Stigmatization is a process emanating from what Goffman refers to as reactions by “the normals” to that which is perceived to be undesirable (13). As Titchkosky indicates, not only do normals have no differences that are undesirable, it is normal for them to notice those with undesired differences (142). She notes that disability is an occasion that consolidates normality through recognition of a problem—the problem of disability subsumes all of a person’s other attributes (144). Approaches that deal with disability as a problem inform health, education, and social science practices where disability is reduced to the condition 147

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of having a body that is a problem that can be cured, improved, or otherwise altered (Titchkosky, see chapter 5). Snyder and Mitchell argue that as long as disabled bodies are regarded as objects of an inexhaustible research, disabled bodies will be “fodder for any number of invasive approaches” (187). This includes not only the interventions of medicine and therapy, but also social science research that expends the “time, liberty, and energies” of people with disabilities “without concern or adequate citation” (193). Disciplines such as special education, physical therapy, occupational therapy, communication disorders, nursing, medicine, and adapted physical education and kinesiology often treat disability as insufficiency in need of change or normalization. This leads to an intolerance of difference that in turn leads to organized attempts to remove human differences through cures, rehabilitation, therapies, mainstreaming (or institutionalization if mainstreaming doesn’t work), and even abortion (Lewiecki-Wilson) or eugenics (Snyder and Mitchell). Eugenics through abortion of fetuses who have various and unwanted genetic conditions echoes the practice of aborting female fetuses in times and places where girl children are less valued. Scrutiny of egg donors to ensure “healthy, accomplished, and attractive” donors echoes earlier American and other Western preoccupations with ‘racial betterment’ discourses about fitness that has made possible eliminating disability or any other unwanted characteristic (Cellio 19) and holds the possibility of eliminating these differences even earlier. What does normalization mean for disabled women when gender expectations are that women are to reproduce and that motherhood and mothering are a necessary and natural outcome for a happy life? Saxton’s research reveals that early “proponents of eugenics portrayed disabled women in particular as unfit for procreation and as incompetent mothers” (122). As Barile writes, “according to the cultural and socially constructed beliefs I was brought up with, it is non-disabled women’s responsibility to reproduce, and I, as a woman with disabilities could not, and should not, reproduce” (225). Compulsory sterilization of the unfit has an intimate, sorry history for disabled people (Snyder & Mitchell 186). While sterilization may be uncommon in the western world in the twenty-first century, there is still a widespread assumption that disabled women have no right to reproduce and/or that there are risks to the health and survival of the foetus and the disabled mother (Thomas 504). When disabled women consider pregnancy or having children, a discourse of risk tempers their experience because 148

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[Medical discourse]...at its core [has] the belief that if there is a risk of abnormality, or the risk of worsening an already abnormal bodily condition, then steps must be taken to avoid it; genetic counseling outlining the “risks,” or the option/recommendation of a termination. (Thomas 504) For many of Thomas’ research participants there was a sense that passing on or causing impairment in a child was unfair and irresponsible (505). Even if impairment is not the result of ‘bad genes’, disabled women are thought to be ‘contagious’ because they are ‘unhealthy’ and therefore questionable in terms of their ability to birth a ‘healthy’ child. The offer to disabled women of genetic counseling and genetic testing serves a eugenics impulse to disappear ‘abnormal conditions’ through abortion. Wilson writes that genetic research has cast the body as a genetic text, with disability a “flawed edition of that text” (53). Hubbard asserts that we would not tolerate tests to identify other stigmatized characteristics, for example skin color. Children of disabled mothers are often thought to be abnormal or deviant themselves because of close proximity with their disabled parent. Mairs writes about the guilt she experienced as a disabled mother in which she worried that her children were not growing up with a ‘normal’ mother (qtd. in Titchkosky 212). Filax’s experience is that ‘poor’ behavior of a child, especially school age children exposed to the hidden curriculum of middle class values, is often blamed on a mother who is different from the social norms of ‘good’ motherhood. Disabled Mothers as Cultural Critique: Learning from Disabled Mothers Historically, disabled people have been objects of study but not purveyors of the knowledge base of disability. (Snyder and Mitchell 198) The formulation of a cultural model allows us to theorize a political act of renaming that designates disability as a site of resistance and a source of cultural agency previously suppressed – at least to the extent that groups can successfully rewrite their own definition in view of a damaging material and linguistic heritage. (Snyder and Mitchell 10) Is it possible to think differently about disabled mothers even as disabled mothers navigate a dominant gender discourse about the inferiority 149

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of the female body and a model of disability that focuses on disability as a problem? How can we move beyond the ‘fantasy’ of the good mother/bad mother binary to reveal and revel in the in-betweenness of disabled mothering (Lewiecki-Wilson and Cellio 8)? The idea of oppression is central to the social model of disability and effectively shifts medical and individualizing discourse of intervention and cure to a discourse of citizenship and politics (Hughes and Paterson 325). However, the social model also “proposes an untenable separation between body and culture, impairment and disability” (326) that concedes the body and impairment to the domain of medicine. Disabled people do not experience impairment and disability separately. Rather, disability is experienced from the perspective of impaired bodies that have histories and cultural meanings, including cultural meanings about mothering and being a mother. Oppression is social and it is embodied as hurtful. Likewise, impairment is embodied, and this embodiment structures interpersonal relationships including those of disabled mothers. As Snyder and Mitchell indicate, impairment is “both human variation encountering environmental obstacles and mediated difference that lends groups identity and phenomenological perspective...[E]nvironment and bodily variation. . . inevitably impinge upon one another” (6-7). For example, therapeutic beliefs about disability affect disabled women’s experiences, including the internalization of what it means to be a mother and mothering, and the psychic toll of “repetitiously attempting to perform activities beyond one’s ability” (8). The norms and expectations of culture favour non-disabled people including non-disabled mothers. Coming to an understanding of this is a source of embodied revelation for disabled people (Snyder and Mitchell 10). The sociality of impairment is often experienced by disabled people as stigma, prejudice, surveillance, and anxiety, or in the case of resistance strategies, as pride. As Titchkosky shows, the sociality of impairment exposes background expectancies – rules, procedures, and norms – used by people as they engage in ordinary life. She argues that inability to engage rules, procedures, and norms often relegates disability to embodied mistakes, but experiences with these background expectancies can also distinguish disability “as a place from which the culturally constituted boundaries between the expected and the unexpected, the visible and the invisible, and the doing and the non-doing of things, can be considered” (17-18). Disability can become “a way of being in the world from which we can learn” (28). For Lewiecki-Wilson and Cellio 150

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[n]ew forms of knowledge and values emerge from the constraints and tensions of actual embodied situationality. Disabled bodies [including those of disabled mothers] can be emergent forces of important values and actions. (15) When it is recognized that disability experience can teach us something about culture, the need to remedy disability physically or structurally is less interesting than how disability experience illuminates the workings of the dominant culture. Snyder and Mitchell describe this as cultural diagnosis: disability functions not as an identification of abnormality but as a way to diagnose culture (12). Disability serves as a critique of the dominant culture and as a “productive locus for identification” (12). In the cultural model of disability, disability is a site of resistance and a source of cultural agency previously suppressed as it teaches us about alterity as a third space between normalcy and marginalization in which “words, lives, and bodies are combined in unexpected and extraordinary ways” (Titchkosky 220). CHALLENGES As discussed earlier in this chapter, the issues of who is disabled and how disability is defined are important, contentious, and have far-reaching effects. Even whether to name someone a “mother with a disability” or a “disabled mother” is debatable. The strongest challenge to disabled mothers is from normalizing and naturalizing discourse that assumes mothers are ablebodied and within an idealized, traditional, heterosexual, and often nuclear family; women outside of this norm are unfit mother material. The first line of defense against disabled women becoming mothers takes place as surveillance. The dense discursive cultural world is packed with the bodies of able-bodied, healthy women as mothers as the privileged maternal subjects/objects of recorded history and contemporary cultural practices. This discourse renders disabled women as doubtful, deviant prospects for motherhood, and surveillance works to internalize this doubt and denial into the psyche of disabled girls and women. This psychic panopticon or self-surveillance makes even considering the possibility of becoming a mother a fraught and negative consideration as disabled women who desire children are thought of as selfish or unrealistic (Cassiman 291). If/when a disabled woman decides to become a parent, one of the first challenges faced is that of pregnancy: Can the doctor’s office accommodate her? Will the pregnancy exacerbate her disability? If she wants it, will she 151

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have access to artificial reproductive technologies? How will she handle questions from others regarding the advisability of her having a baby? And even: will her doctors suggest terminating the pregnancy? In the early 1900s, when the eugenics movement was particularly influential, several states in the U.S. passed laws allowing the involuntary sterilization of people with mental and physical disabilities, resulting in the forced sterilization of 60,000 Americans. Fortunately, by the 1970s, most of these laws had been abolished. However, there are still a few states where people with disabilities can be sterilized involuntarily (Preston). Fears of disabled mothers of losing custody of their children are omnipresent, says Canadian writer Vicky D’Aoust (292). In the first U.S. study of disabled parents, conducted by the National Center for Parents with Disabilities in Berkeley, California in 1997, it was found that 15 percent reported attempts to have their children taken away from them (Preston). Another study, done in 2012 by the National Council on Disability (NCD), found that the percentage of parents with intellectual disabilities who have their children taken away from them is as high as 40 percent to 80 percent (Reeves). Indeed, the two groups of disabled parents that are particularly vulnerable to discrimination, lack of appropriate services and loss of their children are those with intellectual disabilities and psychiatric disabilities. In fact, it has been argued by some that parents with intellectual disabilities are often held to a higher standard of parenting than non-disabled parents (Preston). Disabled mothers are under the normalizing gaze and found wanting through the stigmatizing of disabling discourses including those of poverty, race, and other subject positions (Cassiman 294). The Berkeley study also found that disabled parents faced barriers to adoption, and they often lacked sufficient support with childcare, obtaining adaptive parenting equipment, transporting their children, and accessing information, as well as facing attitudinal barriers (Preston). Lack of accessible information and adequate support is a major challenge to disabled mothers. Some mothers may have to separate from their children during times of medical treatments and hospitalizations, making support from others even more necessary. As many feminist scholars note, discourses of the privatized care by the solitary and heroic mother are contrary to the interconnectedness of all human relations. Mothering is an exercise in interdependence for most mothers. One simply cannot mother without someone to mother. Often disabled mothers require different or more kinds of support for their mothering and more connections and in152

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terdependent relations may be necessary. For disabled mothers, mothering is an exercise in interdependence and vulnerability (Bost 165). When the caregiving of mothering is viewed as a reciprocal action, caring becomes interconnectedness and dependence as interdependence becomes an asset (Bost 167). This spins a counter narrative to the isolation and loneliness of privatized, atomized notions of motherhood. POSSIBILITIES The various models of disability—disability as a problem, disability as socially produced, and disability as cultural diagnosis—articulate with the norms of mothering to inform the lives of disabled mothers for better and at times for worse. Yet, there is more to disability than what theory or ‘experts’ have to say about the disabled. In the words of Titchkosky disability “is lived and performed in the midst of others, within exclusionary and oppressive environments, that adds to or acts upon mainstream life and ‘normal’ identity” (204). The lives of disabled mothers exceed the confines of the categories assigned through normalizing discourse. Significantly, the voices of disabled mothers offer us subjugated forms of knowledge that reveal resistance and agency as well as oppression. Disabled mothers have much to teach us – if we are open to such teachings. In the process of recently editing an anthology on disabled mothers for Demeter Press (Filax and Taylor), we became aware of many of the struggles, challenges and opportunities faced by this group of mothers, as well as the innovations they devised and in-your-face situations they encountered. Before even becoming mothers, some disabled women struggle to imagine themselves as mothers in a world that, as one woman wrote, is “not particularly excited” to witness such an event. Society needs to create space for disabled mothers, to conceive of mothering differently, and to embrace the diversity of mothers. Consider, for example, what gifts a disabled mother could give to a child. “Who better to teach a child to plan, strategize, brainstorm and problem-solve than someone with a disability...Who better to teach equality, and what it truly means in real time, than a parent with a disability,” asks a disabled woman planning to adopt. Another woman, disabled with a mental illness, says, “If and when disability is seen as an example of human variation, of human diversity, then a more inclusive view of mothering and a more humane definition of motherhood may emerge.” As proof that a parent’s disability may facilitate and enhance the parenting task, a study on diapering by parents with physical disabilities found 153

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that as long as appropriate adaptive equipment was available, parents who took longer to diaper their children spent additional time interacting with them and developing a positive parent-child relationship (Preston). Simply by being themselves, some disabled mothers challenge Western society’s construction of ideal motherhood and childhood. Consider, too, a woman who is not only a mother, and disabled, but also poor, non-white, lesbian, or all of the above. Each of these subject positions challenges normalizing discourses and combining any of these with disability and mothering straddles a borderland of hybrid subjectivity that provides a powerful counter-discourse to narratives of motherhood that dishonour, devalue and disrespect difference. Adequate community resources, family support, and flexibility are helpful for any mother, including, of course, mothers with disabilities. If given a voice, and if this voice is heeded, disabled mothers could provide insights and recommendations to other disabled parents, to healthcare providers, the judicial system, and also to manufacturers of assistive technology. As mentioned earlier, oppressive legal practices and issues regarding custody of children have been ongoing problems for disabled mothers. However, research being done by the National Center for Parents with Disabilities is showing that efforts to keep or regain custody are more prevalent with the increasing influence of disability studies programs in colleges and universities and Article 23 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Ella Callow, the Legal Program Director of the National Center for Parents with Disabilities, also stresses the importance of the disability community acknowledging the ongoing subjection of disabled mothers by the legal system, and ensuring that disabled mothers are supported in their efforts to fight the system. (Callow) The disability community has, in fact, been increasingly active in demanding changes to legislation to support and protect the rights of parents with disabilities in the U.S. (Preston). And in Australia, where disabled women have long faced the removal of their children, Women With Disabilities Australia (WWDA) is actively working to reverse the “stolen children” phenomenon as well as other injustices inflicted upon mothers with disabilities (Frohmader, Meekosha, and Soldatic). The American Psychological Association’s Guidelines for Assessment of and Intervention with Persons with Disabilities recommends several ways to ensure the rights of disabled parents, including training those in the legal system to be culturally competent in their work with the disabled. The 154

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APA also recommends improving the collaboration between government agencies that work with people with disabilities (Reeves). The children of disabled mothers are often believed to be overworked or in some way disadvantaged, but this notion is being disproved. In a study of young adult children raised by disabled parents in the U.S. (Preston), the results show that few of these children are overburdened or deprived. When they are, it is because of lack of support or other risk factors in the household. One young woman who was raised by a mother with multiple sclerosis says her mother’s presence “serves as a potent reminder to slow down, to be still, to be present, to observe, to reflect, to cultivate humility, compassion, gratitude. To be with her is to feel a sense of clarity about what really matters” (Blankenship 346). Disabled mothers and mothering becomes empowered and feminist when resistance “entails making different choices about how one wants to practice mothering” (Gordon quoted in O’Reilly 17). Disabled mothers do practice mothering differently but not necessarily by choice. When disabled mothers are reflexive, self-aware and able to make informed choices, they practice mothering against able-bodied and self-sacrificing motherhood: they are mothering against the institution of patriarchal motherhood (O’Reilly 12). DIRECTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH Theory and research on disability and disabled mothers are important to understanding how disabled mothers are both subject of and subject to dominant ideas about gender roles, motherhood, mothering, and disability. Theory and research can offer ways to inform, think, and understand experiences of disabled mothers in order to disrupt myths about mothers and disability that are disabling. There are many ways of mothering and many kinds of mothers. Much of the research that has been done on parents with disabilities has been “limited and flawed,” according to Preston, largely because it has not had the input of disabled parents themselves. Now, besides pointing out these flaws, disabled parents and their families are calling for “nonpathologizing research that is more specific in its investigations” (Preston). It is becoming more common that researchers from the disability community are demanding the use of a disability-culture perspective. That is, says Preston, “recognizing disability as a socially constructed concept, distinguishing difference from pathology, and identifying variables that promote 155

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resilience. This view shifts the emphasis from impairment to the stigma, prejudice, discrimination, marginalization, and disempowerment imposed on individuals with disabilities” (Preston). The importance of cultural diversity in the development of policies, research and services for parents with disabilities and their families has been stressed by the International Division of the Task Force on Parents with Disabilities, as outlined by the U.S. Task Force. The Task Force named three critical areas of concern for, and need for research on, disabled parents everywhere: poverty, illiteracy and basic health care—for without these fundamental rights, disabled parents worldwide cannot sustain lives for themselves and their families (Preston). Erin Andrews, co-chair of the American Psychological Association’s Committee on Disability Issues, says more data needs to be collected on the prevalence, experiences, needs and barriers faced by disabled parents. In a briefing to the U.S. Congress in April 2013, she said a recent survey found, for example, that women with wheelchairs were the least likely to be accommodated by gynecologists. She also said some of the challenges she faces as a mother with a disability are finding day care and the difficulty of using her gynecologist’s examination table. Andrews also emphasized the need for culturally competent trained health care providers in addressing the reproductive needs of disabled women, the examination of discrimination in the adoption process and the removal of children from disabled mothers, as well as more funding for research (Reeves). CONCLUSION What disabled mothers need, like most mothers, is support, nurturance, and care. Institutionalized motherhood demands that most mothers in western societies will mother in isolation. Asking for help is often taken as a flaw in a culture that privatizes, isolates, and individualizes all mothering as solitary work. For disabled mothers when ‘help’ comes it is often “’help? that is not helpful” (Thomas 513). In the 1997 study done by the National Center for Parents with Disabilities in Berkeley, it was found that 54 percent of the parents surveyed said assistance was often not available when needed; 46 percent said it was unreliable; 38 percent said it interfered with the parent’s role, and 35 percent said the personal assistants did not know how to care for children (Preston). Disabled mothers do exist, and they challenge the idea that they are not “good enough” mothers and good enough at mothering (Thomas 510). Not 156

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only do they exist, but they can be expected to increase in numbers as more disabled women broaden their options with changing societal attitudes, increased civil rights and new adaptive technologies. And despite all the obstacles they face, “the vast majority of parents with diverse disabilities continue to provide nurturing and secure environments for their children” (Preston). The experiences of disabled mothers make clear that “the problem of disability” is produced by social barriers that exclude them as disabled mothers (Thomas 508; Shakespeare 266). In December of 2006, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. The Convention is the first legally binding instrument with full protection of the rights of disabled people. Article 23 of the Convention specifically addresses the rights of parents with disabilities: “Discrimination relating to marriage, family and personal relations shall be eliminated. Persons with disabilities shall have the equal opportunity to experience parenthood, to marry and to found a family, to decide on the number and spacing of children, to have access to reproductive and family planning education and means, and to enjoy equal rights and responsibilities regarding guardianship, wardship, trusteeship and adoption of children” (Preston). We hope that the ideas in this chapter will help to further spread the attitude – to all of society, including health care workers, the court system, and governments – that disabled women can proudly claim the role of mother, and in fact have much to offer the world. WORKS CITED Barile, Maria. “New Reproductive Technology: My Personal and Political Dichotomy.” Living the Edges: A Disabled Women’s Reader. Ed. Diane Driedger. Toronto: Inanna Publications and Education Inc., 2006. 171185. Print. Blankenship, Gina. "Learning How to Swim: Finding Meaning in Disability from a Daughter’s Perspective." Disabled Mothers. Ed. Gloria Filax and Dena Taylor. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2014. 339-348. Print. Bost, Suzanne. “Vulnerable Subjects: Motherhood and Disability in Nancy Mairs and Cherrie Moraga.” Disability and Mothering: Liminal Spaces of Embodied Knowledge. Ed. Cynthia Lewiecki-Wilson and Jen Cellio. New York: Syracuse Press, 2011. 164-178. Print. Callow, Ella. "Disabled Mothers: Misadventures in the American Courts." 157

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Disabled Mothers. Ed. Gloria Filax and Dena Taylor. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2014. 277-294. Print. Cassiman, Shawn A. “Mothering, Disability, and Poverty: Straddling Borders, Shifting Boundaries, and Everyday Resistance.” Disability and Mothering: Liminal Spaces of Embodied Knowledge. Ed. Cynthia Lewiecki-Wilson and Jen Cellio. New York: Syracuse Press, 2011. 289-301. Print. Cellio, Jen. “‘Healthy, Accomplished, and Attractive’: Visual Representations of ‘Fitness’ in Egg Donors.” Disability and Mothering: Liminal Spaces of Embodied Knowledge. Ed. Cynthia Lewiecki-Wilson and Jen Cellio. New York: Syracuse Press, 2011. 19-33. Print. Coleman Brown, Lerita M. “Stigma: An Enigma Demystified.” The Disability Studies Reader. 3rd Edition. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York and London: Routledge, 2010. 179-192. Print. D’Aoust, Vicky. “Non-existent & Struggling for Identity.” Lesbian Parenting: Living With Pride & Prejudice. Ed. Katherine Arnup. Charlottetown: Gynergy Books, 1995. 276-296. Print. Davis, Lennard J. “Constructing Normalcy.” The Disability Studies Reader. 3rd Edition. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York and London: Routledge, 2010. 3-19. Print. Deal, M. “Disabled People’s Attitudes toward Other Impairment Groups: A Hierarchy of Impairments.” Disability and Society 18.7 (2003): 897910. Print. Filax, Gloria and Dena Taylor, eds. Disabled Mothers. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2014. Print. Frank, Arthur. “From Disappearance to Hyperappearance: Sliding Boundaries of Illness and Bodies.” The Body and Psychology. Ed. Henderickus J. Stam. London: Sage Publications, 1998. 205-32. Print. Frohmader, Helen Meekosha, and Karen Soldatic. " Unruly Mothers or Unruly Practices? Disabled Mothes Surviving Oppressive State Practices in Australia." Disabled Mothers Ed. Gloria Filax and Dena Taylor. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2014. 295-314. Print. Hubbard, Ruth. “Abortion and Disability: Who Should and Should Not Inhabit the World?” The Disability Studies Reader. 3rd Edition. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York and London: Routledge, 2010. 107-119. Print. Hughes, Bill and Kevin Paterson. “The Social Model of Disability and the 158

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Disappearing Body: Towards a Sociology of Impairment.” Disability and Society 12.3 (1997): 325-340. Print. Lewiecki-Wilson, Cynthia and Jen Cellio. Introduction. Disability and Mothering: Liminal Spaces of Embodied Knowledge. Ed. Cynthia Lewiecki-Wilson and Jen Cellio. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2011. 1-18. Print. Linton, Simi. “Reassigning Meaning.” The Disability Studies Reader. 3rd Edition. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York and London: Routledge, 2010. 223-236. Print. Miller, Toby. The Well-Tempered Self: Citizenship, Culture and the Postmodern Subject. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993. O’Reilly, Andrea. “Foreword: Rocking the Cradle to Change the World.” Rocking the Cradle: Thoughts on Motherhood, Feminism and the Possibility of Empowered Motherhood. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006. 7-31. Print. Preston, Paul. “Parents with Disabilities.” In J.H. Stone, M. Blouin, editors. International Encyclopedia of Rehabilitation. Web. 18 Sept. 2013. http://cirrie.buffalo.edu/encyclopedia/en/article/36/ Preston, Paul and Jean Jacob. "Disabled Mothers: Perspectives of Their Young Adult Children." Ed. Gloria Filax and Dena Taylor. Disabled Mothers. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2014. 317-338. Print. Reeves, Stefanie. “Protecting the rights of parents with disabilities,” American Psychological Association. July/August 2013, Vol 44, No. 7. Web. 19 Sept. 2013 http://www.apa.org/monitor/2013/07-08/disabilities.aspx Rich, Adrienne. Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution. 10th Anniversary Edition. New York & London: W. W. Norton & Company, 1986. Print. Ruddick, Sara. Preface: “Good questions. ..I’ll Be Writing On This.” Rocking the Cradle: Thoughts on Motherhood, Feminism and the Possibility of Empowered Motherhood. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2006. 1-6. Print. Saxton, Marsha. “Disability Rights and Selective Abortion.” The Disability Studies Reader. 3rd Edition. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York and London: Routledge, 2010. 120-132. Print. Shakespeare, Tom. “The Social Model of Disability.” The Disability Studies Reader. 3rd Edition. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York and London: 159

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Routledge, 2010. 266-273. Print. Snyder, Sharon L. and David T. Mitchell. Cultural Locations of Disability. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Print. Thomas, Carol. “The Baby and the Bath Water: Disabled Women and Motherhood in Social Context.” Maternal Theory: Essential Readings. Ed. Andrea O’Reilly. Toronto: Demeter Press, 2007. 500-519. Print. Thomson, Rosemarie Garland (1997). Extraordinary Bodies: Figuring Physical Disability in American Culture and Literature. New York: Columbia University Press. Print. Titchkosky, Tanya. Disability, Self, and Society. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2006. Print. Wilson, James. “Disability and the Human Genome.” The Disability Studies Reader. 3rd Edition. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York and London: Routledge, 2010. 52-62. Print. Wolfe, P. “Private Tragedy in Social Context? Reflections on Disability, Illness and Suffering.” Disability and Society 17.3 (2002): 255-67. Print.

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7. Mothering in East Asian Communities Challenges and Possibilities

PATTI DUNCAN AND GINA WONG

INTRODUCTION This chapter emerges from our recent collaborative work editing a volume of writings on the politics and practices of mothering among East Asian American and Canadian women. As mothers of East Asian descent residing in the U.S. and Canada, respectively, we are committed to thinking through the intersections of race, ethnicity, gender, class, sexuality, culture, and national belonging that shape the experiences of East Asian mothers, both in our home countries and in diasporic communities. In this chapter, we contextualize motherhood/mothering among East Asian women, discussing some of the central themes, issues, and ideas that have informed the discourse. We also identify current challenges and possibilities, hoping to contribute to a larger discussion about mothering in East Asian communities and to add to the existing scholarship in this area. To ground our discussion and make clear our own stakes in this discourse, we briefly contextualize our relationships to motherhood within East Asian communities. We do so with the hope of engaging feminist principles of standpoint theory and situated knowledges, making clear how our lived, daily experiences are connected to larger social and political processes. Patti Duncan is an Asian Pacific American feminist scholar and mother, of 161

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Korean, Irish, and Scottish descent. She identifies as mixed race, keenly attentive to the distinct cultural meanings this marker carries in the U.S. and South Korea. As the child of a Korean immigrant mother and a white U.S. (former) army serviceman, Patti grew up with the stigma associated with both Korean camptown workers and Asian “military brides” in the U.S. Now, as the mother of a mixed race son, she is interested in exploring the ways our reproductive labor—as East Asian feminist mothers—may offset the multiple systems of oppression that our children encounter in an increasingly globalized world. Gina Wong is a Chinese Canadian psychologist, feminist writer, researcher, and academic who is passionate about understanding mothering and motherhood from scholarly and academic perspectives. She was born and lived in Montreal, Quebec until the age of nine years old with her two older sisters and Chinese immigrant parents. At the age of ten, her family moved to Edmonton, Alberta and her younger sister was born. In her girlhood, Gina experienced discrimination and racism from her peers. As well, her parents experienced issues of acculturation, which affected the family dynamics in deeply entrenched, yet inarticulable ways. As a mother of two young mixed race daughters, Gina is keenly motivated to understand, give voice to, and be sensitive to the experiences of East Asian girls, women, and mothers. The Politics of Terminology In this project, we have been concerned about the inclusiveness of the term, “East Asian,” sometimes assumed to refer only to those of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean backgrounds. We use the term as inclusively as possible here, including Southeast Asian communities. We also use the term interchangeably with other terms, for example, “Asian North American,” “Asian Pacific American,” and, at times, “Asian.” However, we realize the limitations associated with these politics of terminology. While Asian North American is frequently used to denote communities of Asian descent in both the U.S. and Canada, some critics have argued that this designation at times subsumes Canadian writings and experiences under an assumed “American” context. Also, while within U.S. cultural politics, the terms “Asian Pacific American,” “Asian and Pacific Islander,” and “Asian/American,” are commonly used within our communities, these terms do not necessarily carry the same political meaning or weight in Canadian and other contexts. When we employ the term, East Asian, we hope to make explicit both the specificities of East Asian women’s experiences 162

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of mothering and motherhood, and the significant relationships our communities have with other communities of color. We make an effort to use “Asian American” and “Asian Canadian” to refer to these distinct contexts. Also, when speaking about Asians more generally, including within or in relation to various homelands, we attempt to clarify and situate within specific geopolitical contexts as much as possible. BACKGROUND AND CONTEXT Scholars who explore motherhood in communities of color in North America draw attention to the ways in which race, class, gender, and other categories intersect in experiences of mothering, highlighting the ways in which women of color have been excluded from an idealized white, middle-class, heterosexual model of motherhood. Historically, like other people of color in North America, Asian immigrants have been exploited for their labor and rarely treated as members of families. In the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, nearly a million Asian immigrants entered the U.S., many of whom sought work or were recruited as contract laborers to build the Canadian Pacific Railway and the Transcontinental Railroad and work on plantations, and were subsequently stigmatized as “coolies” in the U.S. context. The majority of these workers were men, leading to “bachelor societies” where by male workers were physically separated from their families left behind in the home countries. Anti-Asian U.S. immigration laws included the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. As well, known as “humiliation day” in Canada, July 1, 1923, the Canadian Chinese Exclusion Act came into effect and a Head Tax for immigrants to enter Canada was invoked, increasing from fifty dollars to five hundred dollars. For nearly a quarter of a century, Chinese immigration to Canada was thwarted. Such laws promoted labor exploitation and resulted in split-family households (Amott and Matthaei). The deliberate fracturing of Asian families served the economic interests of white, middle- and upperclass landowners, who could pay Asian male workers less than a “family wage,” and house them in dormitory style bunks. During this period, Asian women faced severe restrictions in entering the U.S. and Canada, and comprised only a small percentage of Asian immigrant communities (Chan; Takaki). Some women entered the countries as “picture brides,” a result of the restrictive “Gentleman’s Agreement” of 1907, which prohibited the entry of Japanese laborers to the U.S., but granted access to wives and children of those already in the country. Given the presence of laws and sen163

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timents, many Asian immigrant men were unable to partner with other women in the U.S., and thus arranged marriages from afar through letters and photographs (Lili Kim). Hence, Asian Pacific American experiences of motherhood were forged from this period on within transnational contexts, shaped by anti-Asian immigrant laws and sentiments. In fact, as Laura Hyun-Yi Kang suggests, “[a]rrangements such as ‘split households,’ ‘paper sons,’ and ‘picture brides’ reveal the geographically scattered and situationally invented modes of marriage and family formation for early Asian immigrant communities” (142). More recently, Asian immigrant women have been constructed as cheap labor, often within service industries and domestic work. Factors associated with globalization have resulted in economic disparities among various Asian communities in the U.S. and Canada, as well as an increase in Asian women as migrant laborers in “care work,” including domestic work, childcare, nursing, and the sex industry. These forces affect Asian North American women’s experiences of motherhood and contribute to the global displacement of women and the racialized division of mothering and reproductive labor. When Asian immigrant women and other women from the global South migrate to perform care work as domestic workers and nannies for children in the North, they experience a form of transnational motherhood, in which women with few economic options are forced to leave their own children behind to care for the children of those with greater access to economic options and resources. Theoretical Frameworks One of the primary theoretical frameworks that informs the scholarship on East Asian mothering is intersectionality. This feminist framework, originally delineated by Kimberlé Crenshaw to analyze the experiences of Black women, is a theoretical and methodological approach suggesting that all forms of oppression intersect with one another, creating a matrix of oppression. Gender, race, class, sexuality, nation, ability, and other categories intersect with one another, shaping our experiences and social interactions. In addition, an understanding of the politics and practices of motherhood/mothering within East Asian communities is influenced by the general scholarship of motherhood studies, shaped by such thinkers as Adrienne Rich, Sara Ruddick, Evelyn Nakano Glenn, Patricia Hill Collins, and Andrea O’Reilly. One of the foundational concepts within motherhood studies has been the critical distinction between motherhood—as in164

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stitution—and mothering—to refer to women’s lived experiences of having and/or raising children. This framework draws attention to the ways in which motherhood is socially and culturally constructed, shaped by race, class, culture, sexuality, and other social categories. It rejects any easy formation of a “universal” experience of motherhood, and allows for an understanding of the ways that motherhood as an institution has often been oppressive for many groups of women, even while the act of mothering may provide a space for resistance, empowerment, and joy. Also central to the study of mothering in East Asian communities is a transnational feminist theoretical framework, attentive to global contexts, histories of colonialism and war, and relations between nation-states, as well as our specific histories of immigration and migration. This framework, invoking Chandra Mohanty’s discussion in “Genealogies of Community, Home, and Nation,” takes into account the ways in which East Asian women engaged in mothering practices currently live within diasporic and transnational networks, rooted in specific homelands while also creating communities in the U.S., Canada, and throughout many other countries. East Asian women in North America may identify as immigrants or refugees, as migrant or temporary workers, as transnational adoptees, and/or as 2nd, 3rd, or 4th generation Asian Americans or Canadians, and U.S. or Canadian citizens, for example. Many of us are mixed race or multiracial. Some of us are not aware of the specifics of our racial, ethnic backgrounds. Some of us may experience specific issues related to war and resettlement. As Linda Trinh Vo and Sucheng Chan suggest, many first-generation Vietnamese, Cambodian, and Hmong women resettled in North American after experiencing war and trauma, and living as refugees. And while many of us may speak multiple languages, others have not had access to the languages of our “home” countries or were never taught to speak these languages. Important to note is that East Asians in North America experience various levels of access to resources. Contrary to the myth of the model minority, not all East Asians are middle-class, heterosexual, ablebodied, and living within traditional nuclear families. In fact, the geopolitics that structure our (lack of) belonging actually delegitimize some members of our communities who do not meet the norms associated with citizenship, upward mobility, and family. Finally, the scholarship on mothering within East Asian communities is also informed by epistemological frameworks within women’s and gender studies (particularly women of color studies) and Asian (North) American studies, both of which critique traditional methodological approaches, ar165

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guing instead for alternative frameworks attentive to the voices and experiences of marginalized communities. These scholarly frameworks, rooted in movements for social justice, emphasize structural, rather than individual or interpersonal analyses of power relations. They recognize the value of lived experience and frequently rely on standpoint theory, a concept noted in our introduction, which recognizes that our perspectives are shaped by our social locations. CENTRAL THEMES AND ISSUES While there are numerous themes relevant to the scholarship on mothering within East Asian communities, in this chapter we focus on several issues that influence the current discourse, including mothering within—and despite—legacies of imperialism, colonization, war, and militarism; mothering across borders (related to labor exploitation of Asian migrant workers); transnational adoption; and mothering in the welfare state. In recent years, all of these themes have been central to the scholarly work, activism, and community organizing of Asian North American women and mothers. East Asian perspectives on motherhood/mothering must acknowledge the significant impact of imperialism, colonialism, war, and militarism on our communities. Early patterns of immigration to North America were heavily influenced by these forces, and more recent migration patterns reflect the ways in which nation states within Asia continue to experience militarization and grapple with multiple legacies of colonialism. For example, Ji-Yeon Yuh has explored the experiences of Korean kijich’on (military camptown) women who married U.S. soldiers stationed in South Korea. As many researchers have demonstrated, a highly regulated system of militarized prostitution exists wherever U.S. army bases are established, as has been documented in South Korea, the Philippines, Okinawa, and Vietnam (Yuh; Enloe; Moon; Okazawa-Rey; Sturdevant and Stoltzfus). Social interactions within these military camptowns highlight extreme disparities between U.S. military personnel and local communities. Wherever the camptowns exist, locals report not only an organized sex industry but also significant increases in poverty and in violence against women and children. As Katharine Moon has demonstrated, militarized prostitution in South Korea is highly systematized, sponsored, and regulated by both the U.S. military and the Korean government. Local women who associate with U.S. soldiers are often stigmatized within their communities and families, and as Okazawa-Rey and others suggest, their children are subsequently stigma166

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tized. Duncan has argued elsewhere that one reason for the stigmatization is that Korean women and children associated with U.S. military personnel signify the unequal noeimperialist relationship between the U.S. and Korea, and become physical embodiments of war, loss, and the subjugation of Korea by the U.S. (2008). Similarly, Melinda de Jesús, in her introduction to Pinay Power: Theorizing the Filipina/American Experience, suggests that Filipino Americans “suffer from the effects of colonial mentality: our complicated relationship with the United States and its imperialist legacy has had a tremendous impact upon our sense of history and identity” (3). In addition, Filipinas, she argues, remain “contingently visible: as nameless, faceless overseas contract workers, sex workers, and mail-order brides scattered across the globe” (3). This historical invisibility of Filipinas within the diaspora also renders invisible the experiences of Filipina mothers, particularly those whose work is already invisible within an international division of labor. This point leads to another critical theme within the scholarship on mothering in East Asian communities, namely the practice of mothering from afar as noted in our earlier section. Sau-ling Wong uses the term “diverted mothering” to define a process in which “time and energy available for mothering are diverted from those who, by kinship or communal ties, are their more rightful recipients” (69). She focuses on the “hidden power differential” that structures diverted mothering, to emphasize the ways in which mothering responsibilities may be distributed among groups marked by racialized gender. While Wong focuses on the reproductive labor of women of color in the U.S. in cinematic representations, her point is echoed by other scholars who locate this phenomenon within the material effects of globalization and structural adjustment policies, compelling some women to engage in mothering and care work within an international division of reproductive labor (Nakano Glenn; Parreñas; Chang). Transnational adoption represents another central theme in the scholarship on mothering within East Asian communities. Also referred to as international adoption or intercountry adoption, transnational adoption has been heavily shaped by relationships between sending and receiving nations, for example South Korea, one of the largest “sending” nations, and the U.S., one of the most prominent “receiving” nations (Trenka, Oparah, and Shin). According to recent reports, there are up to 200,000 Korean adoptees in the U.S., Canada, and other western countries, and thousands of adoptees from China, Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, the Philippines, Taiwan, Indonesia, and many other countries. This unidirectional move167

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ment of children from Asian countries to western countries also highlights colonial relations between nations, and results in large communities of East Asians in North America who were adopted by predominantly white families. Largely invisible in the discourse on transnational adoption are the birthmothers, including thousands of Asian women compelled to give up their children by a variety of complex factors, often shaped by war and militarism, sexual violence, association with the sex industry, stigma of mixed race children (especially those fathered by U.S. servicemen in some countries, as noted earlier), stigma of single motherhood, and economic necessity, among other reasons. Also, as Katz and Hunt (this volume) suggest, ideas about “good mothers” have often been associated with white, middleclass, heterosexual norms, often resulting in a privileging of adoptive mothers over birthmothers. In addition, western military invasions and occupations within Asian countries have resulted in transnational adoptions from those countries, leading scholars such as Karen Dubinsky to suggest that transnational adoption is integral to foreign policy for countries like the U.S. Mothering is differentially constructed for women, shaping women’s experiences of motherhood based on race, class, sexuality, age, ability, and other social categories. Notions of “fit” and “unfit” mothers are often shaped by these categories, resulting in some mothers being valued as mothers, while others are devalued and face serious obstacles to mothering their children. One example, discussed in the next section, demonstrates how popular assumptions of Asian Pacific Americans as “model minorities” contrasts profoundly with the realities for many Asian immigrant and refugee women in the U.S. welfare state. CHALLENGES “Where are you from? (When are you going back?)” This question, so common and frequently cited by Asian North American writers, raises a number of critical challenges for East Asian mothers. First, the common followup: “where are you really from?” asked of those whose responses fail to satisfy the curiosity of the interrogators, implies that East Asians can never claim full citizenship or national belonging within the U.S. and Canada. Second, as the parenthetical note above suggests, the question always implies an expected “return” to the homeland. Our presence here is anticipated to be temporary, highlighting the physical, ideological, and geopolitical borders between nation-states, and suggesting a lack of national be168

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longing. And finally, the assumption that we do not belong subsequently suggests that our children, too, cannot belong. Integral to these challenges are the intersections of racism, xenophobia, and the pressure to assimilate to (white) mainstream society. When we—or our children—are mixed race with light skin, the pressure may be more complex, as there may be an added pressure to “pass.” Another contemporary challenge for mothers and families of East Asian descent involves the experience of transnational motherhood mentioned earlier. Processes associated with globalization and structural adjustment politics affect Asian women’s access to employment, resulting in their overrepresentation in migrant “care work” and reproductive labor, often requiring that they leave their own children behind in countries of origin, to travel abroad in order to find employment as nannies, domestic workers, and/or in the sex industry. Their experience of mothering their own children from afar may be comprised of phone calls and remittances, while their actual physical mothering labor is transferred to the children of their employers. This process has had a particularly devastating effect on Filipino families, as Rhacel Salazar Parrenas points out, though this formation of transnational households is also documented among women and families of many other sending countries. As Charlene Tung suggests, Asian women and other migrant women engage in transformative redefinitions of motherhood and mothering through their increasingly complex gendered, racialized negotiations with the demands of work and motherhood, particularly through transnational mothering. Their experiences illustrate structural and institutionalized forms of oppression, as well as creative modes of resistance and survival. At the same time, mothering practices among Asian North American women are also constrained by an overarching set of stereotypes and controlling images, including the myth of the “model minority,” an assumption that Asians as a group are middle- or upper-class, highly educated, successful in math and science, and extremely competitive. Along with the stereotype of the model minority, East Asian women are frequently depicted within a binary representation consisting of the hypersexual, morally depraved “dragon lady” and the submissive, passive, and docile “lotus blossom” (Tajima). Such representations are common in mainstream cinema and popular culture, and contribute to what Sumi Cho calls “racialized sexual harassment,” as well as other forms of racialized, sexualized violence. A more recent controlling image of East Asian mothers, specifically, is that of the Asian “Tiger Mother,” revolving around Amy Chua’s popular yet 169

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controversial memoir, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. In the book, Chua proudly describes raising her two daughters in an extremely strict, middle-class environment, in which they were required to earn all As in school, play the piano and violin for hours each day, and never attend playdates or sleepovers. In Chua’s argument, strict “Chinese parenting” is superior to lackadaisical and overly accommodating “Western parenting,” resulting in greater success among Asians. Her essentialist argument—and generalizations about “Chinese” and “Western” parenting—have been critiqued by many readers, but the overwhelming success of the book indicates the power and allure of this stereotype. Taken together, these controlling images and stereotypes contribute to the invisibility of the needs and experiences of working-class and poor East Asians, particularly those who are immigrants and refugees. They also further marginalize all East Asian women, and in particular those who are not heterosexual, cisgender, and able-bodied. Like other stereotypes, these representations create rigid norms for East Asian women and mothers, making it difficult to recognize the complex realities of our communities. Within Asian North American literature and literary criticism, a great deal has been written about motherhood in relation to conflicted motherdaughter relationships, particularly between Asian immigrant mothers and their U.S. or Canadian born daughters. The conflicts that often structure these relationships have been explored in well known writings such as Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior: A Memoir of a Girlhood Among Ghosts, Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club, Fae Myenne Ng’s Bone, and Nora Okja Keller’s Comfort Woman, as well as critical analyses by Leslie Bow, Wendy Ho, Erin Khue Ninh, and others. While the conflicts are sometimes portrayed as the result of cultural differences between first and second generation Asians, some critics have also pointed out the ways that such conflicts are actually deepened and reinforced by racism and antiimmigrant sentiments in North America, economic insecurity, cultural displacement, and the pressure to assimilate. These experiences are also shaped by the stereotypes of Asian women and girls mentioned above. Yet, despite the many obstacles East Asian women have encountered in North America, many continue to resist multiple forms of oppression and to actively engage motherhood/mothering as an act of empowerment. In fact, as Yen Le Espiritu suggests, the very act of forming and maintaining strong families in a hostile environment is itself a form of resistance (140). Other challenges for East Asian mothers include a simultaneous invisibility and hypervisibility, as evidenced by the multitude of stereotypes 170

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noted earlier, particularly about Asian women, mothers, and family norms; increased poverty for many recent immigrants and refugees; barriers to citizenship and language; labor exploitation; lack of access to health care, including reproductive health and justice; and multiple forms of violence, including domestic violence, sexual violence, and the forms of systematized state violence that bolster oppression in our communities. These challenges are compounded by the intersections of racism, sexism, classism, heterosexism and homophobia, and other systems of oppression. As noted earlier, mothering is differentially constructed for women, structured by race, ethnicity, class, culture, national belonging, sexuality, and ability, among other social categories. These processes result in some mothers being valued for their work as mothers, while others are devalued, and their children are subsequently devalued. For example, in the current welfare state, prevailing cultural narratives of Asian Pacific Americans as the model minority contrast sharply with the construction of Asian immigrant and refugee women as abusing the U.S. welfare system and squandering public resources. As Lynn Fujiwara has argued, the dismantling of federally mandated social programs, particularly the 1996 Personal Responsibility Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act (PRWORA), signed by President Bill Clinton, which targeted immigrant mothers and their children, had a devastating effect on Asian immigrant families in the U.S., particularly within the Southeast Asian community. In addition, neoliberal economic policies and globalization that result in cutting welfare entitlements and public services result in what Evelyn Nakano Glenn refers to as racialized gendered servitude, shaped by unequal relationships in care work, as well as the transnational family arrangements mentioned earlier (2010). Thus, poor Asian immigrant women, like many other groups of Asian women in North America, have encountered serious obstacles in mothering their children. POSSIBILITIES Despite the many challenges delineated above, East Asian women remain committed to caring for their children and families, and work to resist multiple, intersecting systems of oppression. In doing so, they create an empowering vision for Asian American and Asian Canadian mothers and families. Affirming East Asian mothers and women by honoring their/our stories and experiences of struggle, invisibility, marginalization, pain, and resistance is integral. By doing so, we challenge notions that East Asians have 171

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to assimilate to North American standards to fit in and that we do not have a place of belonging in the U.S. and Canada. While the oppression of East Asian mothers is patently clear in multiple ways, so too is their strength and courage. Identifying, challenging, and resisting myths and barriers experienced by East Asian mothers allows for reshaping and nurturing possibilities. By raising critical questions about the social, cultural, and political meanings of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, nation, and mothering, we contribute to the existing scholarship on motherhood and mothering and invite more discussion about the unique experiences of East American mothers. Giving voice and acknowledgement to the unique experiences of these mothers validates, legitimizes, and empowers Asian women’s experiences as mothers. An example of such validation and empowerment is the “Mama’s Day Our Way” campaign by Strong Families, a national initiative in the U.S. working for social justice for all kinds of families, including immigrant families, low-income families, and LGBTQ families. Recognizing that the majority of families do not fit the white, middle-class heterosexual norms often comprising “ideal” notions of family, Strong Families works to change attitudes and shape policy on behalf of all kinds of mothers and families. The organization also works for reproductive justice, highlighting the ways in which communities of color are often targeted by structural forms of oppression. Their “Mama’s Day Our Way” campaign includes a number of original, creative mother’s day cards celebrating experiences of mothers and forms of mothering often overlooked in mainstream media and society. In particular, they include powerful artistic images of women of color, immigrant women, queer mothers, single mothers, disabled mothers, and fathers, all engaged in mothering their children. Such images counter the negative representations that dominate our society, and offer new possibilities for East Asian mothers. Mothers in East Asian communities also work to resist and challenge forms of oppression through maintaining ties to their ethnic and cultural backgrounds, and teaching their children to be proud of their racial, ethnic, and cultural identities. In her research with Korean “military brides” raising children in the U.S., Ji-Yeon Yuh discusses respondents’ determination to mother their children despite lacking the “Korean-style” maternal authority they desired (and would have had access to, in different circumstances). Also, many Korean mothers raising mixed race children in the U.S. recounted experiences of watching their children be subjected to racial slurs and racist abuse. Many of these women took action on behalf their chil172

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dren, and Yuh describes their maternal advocacy as “acts of resistance toward racism and institutional and social authority” (104). In addition, some women reported raising their children to eat Korean food, speak Korea, and understand Korean culture as a significant aspect of their mothering, and as an implicit act of resistance to the racism they experienced in the U.S. (Yuh 105-106). Additionally, because many Asian North American women participate in work outside the home, they challenge both the stereotype of a financially dependent “stay at home” wife and mother within a conventional western nuclear family, as well as assumptions about white patriarchal motherhood. To raise their children, like other women of color in North America, Asian Pacific women have developed more collective approaches to mothering, relying on both extended family and community members—what Patricia Hill Collins refers to as “fictive kin” in her discussion of Black women’s experiences of motherhood. Such arrangements, like the experience of transnational motherhood discussed in the previous section, involve complex gendered, racialized negotiations of work and motherhood and engage transformative and potentially empowering redefinitions of mothering and motherhood. Other possibilities emerge from situating ourselves within multiple, intersecting systems of oppression and privilege, in order to identify and acknowledge forms of resistance, both structural and interpersonal. In our introduction to this chapter, we highlighted our own experiences and backgrounds, not only for context but also as a conscious attempt to link our daily, material realities as mothers of East Asian descent to the larger social, political, and global processes that structure our experiences. In doing so, we link our work to the struggles of other mothers of East Asian descent, both in North American and globally. DIRECTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH The extant literature on mothering within East Asian communities over the past decade is scant. A review of the recent social science research revealed nineteen articles that appear in such academic journals as Asian American Journal of Psychology, Developmental Psychology, Cultural Diversity & Ethnic Minority Psychology, Canadian Psychology, Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology. In addition, much recent research has focused on themes similar to Chua’s “tiger mother” parenting approach (Cheah, Leung, and Zhou; Way, Okazaki, Zhao, Kim, Chen, Yoshikawa, 173

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Jia, and Deng) and whether mothers are controlling/authoritarian (Choi, Kim, Kim, and Park), at times reinforcing or challenging the multitude of stereotypes about Asian Pacific women. Another recent theme in the social science literature is mother-child parenting strategies around values transmission and socio-emotional regulation of children (Choi, Kim, Pekelnicky, and Kim; Hynie, Lalonde, and Lee; Shwalb, Shwalb, and Shoji; Wang; Wu & Cha). One article focuses on examining the myth of the model minority (Kim & Lee 2013); and one explores Chinese American grandmothering (Nagata, Cheng, and Tsai-Chae). Several researchers investigate acculturation experiences of parents and children (Cheah, Leung, and Zhou; Costigan and Doki; Hwang, Wood, and Fujimoto; LaFromboise, Coleman, and Gerton; Nakagawa, Teti, and Lamb). In terms of acculturation, a study by Costigan, Su, and Hua is one of the few involving a Canadian perspective. More research has been conducted about the Asian American experience. In this study, ethnic identity and home environment are linked and involve Chinese Canadian youth and their immigrant parents. This study finds that stronger ethnic identity is formed when mothers emphasize family obligations, when children read their parents’ expectations accurately, and when warmth and support are prevalent in the parenting. A large majority of studies seems to focus on parenting methods comparing the practices of East Asian parents to Western or European norms of child rearing, emphasizing and at times essentializing cultural “differences.” Overall, a sentiment of marginalization exists in the extant research and an undertone that adjustments and influences on East Asian children may be lesser than in a North American context. East Asian mothers are often objectified rather than recognized as multidimensional subjects within the research. For example, one qualitative study (Chang and Greenberger) determined that Chinese American mothers felt more parent satisfaction if their children were getting good grades as compared to European American mothers, which contributes to the perspective that “Asian mothering” is primarily “Tiger Mothering.” Clear to us was the lack of research focusing directly on the lived experiences of East Asian mothers from a feminist perspective, which is urgently needed to challenge the controlling images of East Asian women, mothers, and families. In light of the meta-analysis of the existing research, directions for future research of mothering experiences in East Asian communities includes focusing on mothers’ experiences not from a place of marginalization and oppression but rather from a perspective of understanding, empowerment, 174

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and resistance to oppression. Understanding Asian women’s and mothers’ unique lived experiences from a feminist lens sheds light on challenges and successes and will add to the breadth of motherhood studies. For example, one of the authors, Wong, is involved in research utilizing narrative inquiry to investigate Chinese Canadian mothers’ stories of passing their native language to their children. She is also researching the mothering shifts and transformations across the motherline of two generations, known as matroreform (Wong; Wong-Wylie) focusing on this experience for mothers who identify as bicultural. Research projects such as these, that emphasize the lived experiences of East Asian mothers, give voice, legitimize, validate, and can potentially empower rather than dissect, objectify, and minimize. Additional studies are urgently needed to inspire a growing body of understanding into mothering experiences among East Asian women. Additionally, we suggest that more research is needed to address the experiences of East Asian mothers who experience multiple forms of oppression and marginalization, and are often rendered invisible in the discourse. Such scholarship should emphasize queer, feminist, and disability justice frameworks, critical of patriarchal, ethnocentric, heteronormative, cisgender, and ableist assumptions and ideologies, and could be situated within cultural studies emphasizing literary and cinematic representations of Asian and Pacific Islander women and mothers, as well as social science research. CONCLUSION I left for you. I came here for you. I work for you. I sing for you. For you. For you. For you. My mother sang songs that still echo in my head. . . . I speak this language for you. I tell stories for you. My mother used to tell me stories of how it was. For you. For you. For you. . . . . . through jungle leaves and killing fields, her stories stitched in my head for lost memories. And so my mother reminds me of our story, left behind in a land I will never call my home. 175

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And so my mother carries with her new dreams, in a land that drowns dreams in sweat reality. My back aches for you. I sacrifice for you. I cry for you. I hurt for you. . . For you. For you. For you. . . I return to my mother, who never left my side. I see you, Mother. . . –I Was Born With Two Tongues We conclude with this excerpt from “Mother,” by Asian Pacific American spoken word artists I Was Born With Two Tongues. In their evocative piece, they suggest both the losses and sacrifices of a first generation Asian immigrant mother, and a daughter’s longing and regret for the “home” she will never know. In this way, “Mother” addresses several key themes and challenges for mothers and mothering practices in East Asian communities, particularly with regard to the multiple negative stereotypes and controlling images of Asian Pacific women, the structural forms of oppression associated with economic injustice, labor exploitation, and Asian women migrant workers, and the lack of a sense of belonging experienced by so many women of East Asian descent in North America. Yet this piece, while highlighting these politics of home and belonging, also suggests a daughter’s decision to “return” to her mother. “I see you, Mother,” she states, suggesting a challenge to the invisibility of Asian Pacific women and mothers, and a refusal to be reduced to one-dimensional representations and stereotypes. In addition, her return invokes a reclaiming of both her mother and her racial, ethnic, cultural identity. In this chapter, we echo such sentiments, attempting to illustrate the complex lived realities of mothering and motherhood within East Asian communities, and to highlight not only the multiple forms of oppression experienced by East Asian mothers but also potential sites of resistance and empowerment. WORKS CITED Amott, Teresa L. and Julie A. Matthaei. Race, Gender, and Work: A Multicultural Economic History of Women in the United States. Boston: South End Press, 1991. Print. 176

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Briggs, Laura. Somebody’s Children: The Politics of Transracial and Transnational Adoption. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2012. Print. Chan, Sucheng. Asian Americans: An Interpretive History. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1991. Print. Chan, Sucheng. Survivors: Cambodian Refugees in the United States. Bloomington: University of Illinois Press, 2004. Print. Chua, Amy. Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. New York: Penguin, 2011. Print. Chang, E. S., & Greenberger, E. “Parenting satisfaction at midlife among European- and Chinese-American mothers with a college-enrolled child.” Asian American Journal of Psychology, 3.4 (2012), 263–274. doi:10.1037/a0026555 Cheah, C. S. L., Leung, C. Y. Y., & Zhou, N. “Understanding ‘Tiger Parenting’ Through the Perceptions of Chinese Immigrant