Which side of the line do you fall on when it’s your mother who is simply loving you in the best way she knows how. In her own broken, bruised, and bitter kind of way. After all, mother knows best right?
“I didn’t have help and I survived so you should be ok”. They weren’t OK and they don’t want us to be ok.
This is what I tell myself as I hit month two of three full months of my children’s love and undying affection, totally uninterrupted by the school and work day break (can you sense the sarcasm)
I birthed my child the way I wanted to. I took control of my body and birth.
It’s ok to do it a different way. You aren’t bound to raising your kids the way you were raised.
Shout out to my husband for holding me down and making sure this was absolutely everything I wanted it to be.
Black Motherhood is a journey and there is no right or wrong way. I am writing my family's manual as it happens.
Black motherhood has changed so much from my personal experience. Looking back on my childhood, a lot of mothers were surviving. They were in full on survival mode and did not have a way to put that experience into context.