August 15, 2010

Department of WIN: Polarn O. Pyret

Posted by rosemaryterrace under clothing, gender stereotypes, links | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |
[7] Comments 

What a slogan!

Not for girls.

Not for boys.

We make clothes for children.

I love this slogan. It sums up everything I want in a clothing store for my child. We gender children’s clothing way before there is much in the way of difference between body shapes, to the extent that even clothing that we might describe as “neutral” (no bows and ribbons; no skulls and crossbones) is gendered by the colour it is (olive green for boys, pale yellow for girls, for example; even blue clothing, for example, has a “girl” shade and a “boy” shade), and vice versa (and orange top, for example, will be marked as “girl” or “boy” by either a subtle puffing up of the sleeves or a small car motif, for example). And it will be gendered, in most shops, by actually putting clothes in different aisles according to gender. (In my local Asda, for example, “boy” and “girl” clothes are even separated by the service counter!) And I’m sick of it and have been sick of it for a long time. (Also, lest we forget, “boy” and “girl” are not the only two genders in the world; we also don’t know for certain that our female assigned child is a girl, and our male assigned child is a boy, until they tell us, which relies on them having the words and us listening. So talking about “children” makes much more sense!)

So in terms of slogan and the idea behind it, Polarn O. Pyret gets my vote. Also in terms of placement within online store; clothes are sorted by type (trouser, dress, top, etc) rather than by gender. This is exactly how I want to search for clothes for my child; does he need a new pair of trousers? Let’s look at trousers then; rather than having to sort by boy or by girl, I can get the full range and choose for myself.

The clothes also look to be of a good quality; outdoorsy, rough and tumble clothes rather than decorative (actually, I don’t have a problem with decorative, and most children enjoy self-adornment; it’s when it’s limited to one gender that I’ve a problem).

The only drawback? The price. And here’s the thing; once again, being able to afford to support a shop with such important ideals, being able to dress your child in good quality, ethically sourced clothing, is very much the privilege of those with a certain amount of money. For example, should I want to buy my child a pair of trousers, I’m looking at over thirty quid. I couldn’t even justify spending thirty quid on a pair of kecks for myself, let alone a child that’s going to grow out of them in about a year’s time.

I do understand why places like this are expensive; it’s not cheap to be ethical, it’s not cheap to care about who makes the clothes you sell and it isn’t cheap to care about where the material in your clothes comes from. I get that; I’m glad they exist even though they’re way out of my price range. I hope parents (and anyone who buys clothes for children) with money will support this store as much as possible.

What doesn’t cost a company money, however, is having a unisex slogan like Polarn O. Pyret; it also doesn’t cost money to sort clothes by size and type rather than by gender. I hope the kind of companies I can afford to shop at follow suit. I might even add one or two bought pieces to my child’s lovely pre-loved hand-me-down collection then!

 

December 1, 2009

Full term breastfeeding bingo

Posted by rosemaryterrace under breastfeeding, general public | Tags: , , , , |
[11] Comments 

The idea of “bingo” cards is because so often people come out with insults or ignorant comments that they think are new, or insightful, but in fact have been said so many times before they’re almost boring.

A long while ago, I made a “breastfeeding bingo” card. It was originally intended simply as a handout at a breastfeeding support group I was jointly running at the time, but it became quite popular and even got turned into a postcard by Lisa at Lactivist.

Lauredhel at Hoyden about Town designed an excellent bingo card for conversations about breastfeeding in public.

But neither of these cards really covered the area of full-term breastfeeding. Or, child-led weaning, or normal-term breastfeeding. (Please, not “extended” breastfeeding; this implies there is a “right” cut off point and that nursing beyond this is somehow unnatural; “extending” what is normal. For more on “cut off points” see here.) Although this bingo card applies mainly to conversations around full-term breastfeeding, if you nurse longer than what is considered the cultural norm where you are, you’ll probably hear quite a few of these anyway.

[Please also note I am not, in designing this bingo card, getting at you in any way if you didn't breastfeed full-term, or if you didn't breastfeed at all.]

So, without further ado, I present full-term breastfeeding bingo. Can you get a full house?

Full term breastfeeding BINGO!

 

November 8, 2009

The question that hurts

Posted by rosemaryterrace under birth, boundaries, general public, pregnancy | Tags: , , , , , , , , |
[15] Comments 

My child is two and a half now, and although I’ve been getting this question since he was about one, it’s gotten more frequent, the older he gets:

“Any plans for number two yet?” or worse still “When’s number two then?”

Firstly, let me explain why I think this is a feminist issue, rather than just a “you’re being bloody rude” issue.

—

I think part of it has to do with women’s bodies being considered “public property” and another part is to do with child care and child rearing seen as purely a woman’s role, and whether or not to have children is seen as something the woman in a het relationship decides.

The first part, the “public property” thing, is particularly noticeable in pregnancy with the bump groping. I am one of the few women I know who didn’t mind people touching my bump (although only if they asked first, and sometimes they didn’t) when I was pregnant; but I was also in a relationship without much physical affection at the time, so I was “taking it where I could get it”. But on the whole, most of my Mum friends have told me how they didn’t enjoy it, and that they only said “yes” (if they were asked) because of a feeling of obligation.

I think the part of “when’s number two?” that stems from that is the feeling that it isn’t your body any more; if you’ve had a baby, there’s almost a part of you that’s seen as an incubation chamber, and it’s everyone else’s business what that body’s going to do next.

Don’t get me wrong, I am personally incredibly proud of being a mother and I think I do a damn good job of it. For me, personally, it is my main job and the biggest part of me. But that involves a hell of a lot more than “getting pregnant and giving birth”. That’s just the very first stage. Even if we’re just talking about what my body does when it comes to being a mother; it nurses my child, it picks him up, it carries him around, it plays with him, it gets down on the floor and lets him ride on its back… and more. For me personally (but not for every mother) I’ve given over a lot of my body to childcare, the majority, even. But that’s a lot more than pregnancy, and I resent being thought of as a vessel to carry babies. Because, even though that’s part of it, it’s a very small part. And it’s not public property; it’s my property, and who I use it for, and how, is none of your business.

And if that’s me, whose identity is primarily tied up with being a mother, how much more would someone who’d given birth to a child, but whose identity was more tied up in things outside of “mothering” feel?

The other thing, the “women=destined to have children” starts before the second child, of course. I remember when I got married to my (now ex) husband; people asked me when I was going to have children. Notice they asked me, not him.

It continues through employers asking “are you planning to have children” in job interviews, even though they’re not allowed to. I also think this attitude is partly responsible for some of the child-hate within the feminist and child-free movements (and oh yes, it does exist). A bit like, “if I go on about how much I hate children, my employer will never mistake me for being one of those people who ‘goes off and has a kid and doesn’t come back after mat leave’ and therefore I will get promoted”, and so on. Or just wanting to disassociate with the whole “woman=carer of children” meme by trying to prove how much that isn’t them because they hate children.

But when people ask about number two, they already have something to go on. Obviously, you don’t hate children, because after all, you had one. And because you like children, you must want more than one, surely? And if you do, why aren’t you doing your womanly duty and “getting yourself pregnant” again?

So yeah, feminist issue. (And, yes, it is also a “bloody rude” issue, too!)

—

And there are so many reasons why it’s wrong to ask. And why, sometimes, it really, really hurts.

See, for me, personally, it stings to be asked that, especially at the moment. Because I would love to have more children. I always wanted to have three or four children, actually. But when I had my first, and currently only child, it was hard. Things between me and my then-husband turned sour as soon as my bump appeared and didn’t get any better. But even then, right up until I left him, I still planned to have a second child with him.

Some of you might think that was foolish, that plan; but if anything, it was less foolish than having my first child with him. I knew what he was like, and I knew I’d get little to no support from him, and a lot of grief.  I planned to do things differently; I would create my own support network from friends and on the internet. I wouldn’t have the heartbreak of turning to him in my time of need and being pushed away, because I’d know not to turn to him in the first place.

And if we’d stayed together, it would have been now that we would have been trying. If we’d stayed together, I might be typing a very different post now, one about early pregnancy.

But we didn’t. And much as I don’t miss our relationship, and I am better off emotionally without him, I still grieve that second child that I won’t have, certainly not for a long time, if at all. I try not to think about it too much, but asking that question forces me to think about it, and it hurts.

I’m in a long distance relationship with a woman now; she can’t move over here for at least two years, and even when she does, we’ll not be able to think about having a baby for a while, for reasons of money, studying, career and so on. And when we finally can, it’s a more complicated thing for two woman to have a baby together. Plus I’ll be older, and less fertile (and that’s assuming I’m even fertile now; I could well have secondary infertility and not be aware of it); who knows if I’ll even have another? I want to, and my fiancée wants it too, but wanting isn’t always enough.

And it’s worth it; my fiancée is an amazing woman and I don’t regret leaving my husband for her for a minute. I wouldn’t swap her for a brood of children. But that doesn’t mean I don’t grieve the situation regarding a second child.

So also, by asking that question, you’re asking me to come out to you as queer/bi; you also ask me to justify my decision to leave my husband, even to explain some of the emotionally upsetting things that happened in our relationship.

And that’s just me. There are many, many other reasons why someone who gave birth once, might not either want, or be able to have, another child. It’s incredibly personal, and can be incredibly hurtful.

—

And it’s none of your business. It’s my body, it’s my life, and it’s my choice, limited by circumstances though that choice is.

And if you really must ask that question? At least, take “it’s complicated,” or “I’d rather not discuss it” for an answer!

 

October 28, 2009

Learning to be “papa” too

Posted by rosemaryterrace under gender stereotypes | Tags: , , , , , , |
[12] Comments 

At a La Leche League conference, someone – I think it might even have been the famous Diane Wiessinger herself – was talking about the words mama and papa. She said papa, or dada, with its hard consonants, may have been latin baby speak for “play” or “fun”: pa! pa! pa! da!, like a kind of clapping and excitement. Whereas mama, with its softer sound, she thought was similar baby speak for milk, comfort, nurture, a mixture of a plea and a cry: maaaa! mamamama!, and so on.

Now, I love that La Leche League helps mothers to breastfeed and supports gentle parenting practices. I’m not quite so thrilled that they also seem to reinforce gender role stereotypes and heteronormativity. (Although, in fairness, they do at least put a lot of emphasis on the father supporting the mother and playing his part, which is better than nothing at all. Grateful for small mercies and so on.)

And in that vein, I raised an eyebrow at the mama/papa thing (and my internal bullshitometer lit up too), but I could also see what she meant; it is a common stereotype that the mother is there for nurture and milk and cuddles and comfort; Dad, if there is a present father, is there to throw the baby up into the air, tickle the baby, kick the football around outside with the toddler and so on.

But the thing is, when I lived with my child’s father, I did find our roles going down this route, and to be honest, it did suit my personality. I found that I was much better at the cuddling, the endless rocking and soothing, the humming Scarborough Fair two hundred times before sleep, the nursing, and so on. I enjoyed that. My ex husband was much better at the games and the fun, from peekaboo to silly dancing.

(Please understand: I’m not saying, by the way, “I found myself better at the traditionally female stuff therefore it is true that all women everywhere are better at this and the feminists are wrong!” I’m just talking about where my skills, personally, lay.)

I was happy for this arrangement to continue and for me to take the “mama” role, the nurturing and comforting. I wasn’t, obviously, so happy that “the nurturing role” had to include all the nappy changes, all the getting up in the middle of the night and yet also, somehow include “going out to paid work full time so we can have Lots of Nice Things”. The Second Shift, and the third, and fourth, and the night shift, and the morning shift – taking all these shifts I wasn’t so happy with. But the mama=nurture; papa=play was fine in my house and suited our abilities down to the ground.

And then we split up.

My ex husband still sees our child and has him for regular overnight stays. Despite some misgivings, and missing the little one terribly when he’s not with me, I still believe this is – at least for now – the best option available.

But it has meant I’ve had to learn new skills. I’ve had to learn to be “papa”. And that’s been hard. Acting silly, getting down on the floor and being a climbing frame, running around and shouting with my hands in the air, pretending to be a character from a television show, pulling silly faces, kicking a football around the garden – well, it’s not come easily to me. Maybe it’s because we’re led to believe that playing and silliness is “unladylike” somehow. Maybe it’s just because it doesn’t suit my personality. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

But I’ve had to do it. And the thing is, I think it’s been good for me. I’ve got back in touch with that silly side that disappeared as I grew older and only ever reappeared when I’d had a fair number of real ales! I’ve got down on my hands and knees and crawled around the house pretending to be a French cow called Madame. I’ve run around the supermarket pushing the trolly far too quickly and causing a commotion. I’ve asked random people driving heavy machinery what it is called, and what it does, and I’ve learned that not every lorry that has a barrel on it is an oil tanker by any stretch. And much more.

And I’ve even passed on that nurturing skill via play. My child now puts his teddy bears to bed and carries a doll in a sling.

As my child has grown older, the amount of nurturing time he needs has lessened, and the amount of playtime he’s needed has grown. If me and my ex husband were still together, and we’d kept to our roles, I can imagine I would have found myself spending less time with my child as he grew, and spending time instead tidying and cleaning the house while my child and his father played games outside.

And maybe this is the way that La Leche League thinks it should be, with fathers taking a greater and greater part in their children’s lives as they grow older, and mothers taking a back seat similarly. And I’m sure that works just fine for some families, and might even have worked for ours in different circumstances.

But now, I’m glad the split forced me to learn to be “papa”, too. I look back and I realise I could have lost out on an awful lot if that had carried on. And I still get to nurture and cuddle and sing to and nurse my child, although less often these days.

And, even if only a little bit these days, my ex husband has had to get in touch with his inner “mama”.

 

October 13, 2009

Stop “stop acting like a child!”

Posted by rosemaryterrace under Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , |
[4] Comments 

NB: this post is for people who are on board with wanting to erase insulting language from their own personal lexicons. If you’re going to argue the toss about “politically correct language ZOMG you won’t be able to say anything soon” – this isn’t the place. This might be a good place to start.

I think some people are just starting to get their head around the fact the language they use sometimes has meanings they didn’t intend.

For example, saying someone is “crazy” to mean that you’re unhappy with the way they’re acting, you think they’re making no sense or they’re being unpleasant is ableist. You’re saying the person is acting like they’re mentally ill, and that to be mentally ill is synonymous with unpleasant and nasty. Which is insulting to people who are mentally ill, usually a specific type of mental illness. (And “crazy” can be a pejorative term all by itself; one thing for mentally ill people to reclaim the term “crazy” – another for people who aren’t mentally ill to use it.)

There’s something I’ve noticed recently, mainly in internet arguments but also “in real life”.

You’re acting like a child!

My two year old makes more sense than you.

You’re behaving like a spoilt brat.

Stop being so childish!

And so on. Thing is – sorry – but this isn’t okay. What they’re trying to say of course is “you’re acting ridiculously/ badly behaved / irrationally / etc.” but by invoking the child, they’re implying children are bad, ridiculous, badly behaved, irrational etc. Spoilt brat and other phrases like that are particularly bad as they’re not only using “child” to mean “bad” but the phrase itself is out and out child hate. (General rule? If it sounds like something an abuser might say to a child? It’s child hate.)

Comparing oppressions is often a bad idea, but if you’re a member of the oppressed group you’re using as a comparison, I think that’s a different kettle of fish. So here goes:

You’re acting like a woman!

My wife makes more sense than you.

You’re behaving like a nasty bitch.

Stop being such a girl!

Do you get what I’m saying now? So can we knock it off? Thanks.

 

October 10, 2009

We are all alloparents part three: what can you do?

Posted by rosemaryterrace under breastfeeding, general public | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , |
[4] Comments 

In part one of We are All Alloparents, I looked at why alloparenting was necessary, and in part two, why a world without alloparenting is bad for everyone.

I now want to look at what people who want to help, who want to stick it to the kyriarchy by modelling “how not to abuse privilege” to the next generation, can actually do, on a real, day-to-day level.

But I can’t speak for all parents, obviously. And I certainly can’t speak for children. You know; privileged person speaking on behalf of oppressed group, that doesn’t go down so well. I suppose it is slightly different than other privilege/oppression dichotomy in that I was once a child myself. But it was a long time ago, and as someone who has had many long years of adult privilege, I can’t completely trust myself to put myself back into that way of thinking.

So I’m going to keep this short. A few things I’d like to see, and then turn it over to you. As a parent, how could your life be improved by other alloparents? What would you like?

Here’s my two pence worth:

Understand basic child behaviour. “Tantrums” (or the less demonising “episodes” or “meltdowns”, as I’ve heard them called) are normal. They’re not naughty behaviour, and they don’t need to be dealt with or the child taught a lesson. They’re often a response to over stimulation, or not yet having the emotional ability to cope with disappointment. If you see a child having a tantrum, don’t tut or glare. If anything, it’s this that causes the frazzled parent to feel obliged to discipline, harshy, their child. A sympathetic smile goes a very long way. An offer of help – “do you need a hand?” – even longer. It can be hard to intervene if the parent’s already at the point of shouting.  But even there, walking on by and not staring is better than looking and making the parent feel even more uncomfortable. Meltdowns are normal. High pitched laughing and screaming is normal. Not wanting to be touched or patted on the head is normal. And for heaven’s sake, don’t take it as an insult if a child hides behind Mum when you approach. Saying “aw, is she/he shy?” is just irritating. How’s a mother meant to say “no, s/he’s not shy. Just natural healthy weariness at a stranger approaching”.

Offer to help with non-baby stuff. A new mother often has no shortage of friends and relatives who want to “help” with the baby (carry it, coo over it, cuddle it) but this leaves her, often worn out and exhausted from the birth, doing the drudge work; cooking, cleaning, tidying, washing – while others can claim they were helping. Tidying up, at the very least after yourself after a visit, is a start. Wash the dishes you’ve used. While you’re at the sink, why not wash a few more? Don’t expect to be waited on. You know where the kettle is. Why not bring your own food? A lot of this applies even after the child is out of babyhood. Offering to help with the child is good, don’t get me wrong; but offering to help with housework might be even better. And if you’re offering to take the baby for a bit so a mother can get some more sleep… why not do a quick whizz round the house picking up toys off the floor while you’re doing it? Besides, the government in the UK seems determined to stop informal babysitting arrangements (thanks, UK government, for legislating against alloparenting) so this might be the only way you can go anyway!

There are certain types of “help” that are never good alloparenting. I once had a man think I needed “help” to pull my dress down at the back after putting Bertie up in the sling had made my dress ride up at the back (which I knew, and which I was about to rectify). His help consisted of pulling down my dress without my permission, and in the process, ripping it. Also, I don’t need directing to a “private room” to breastfeed in. No, I’d not feel more comfortable there. Especially not if it’s the disabled toilet, as it often turns out to be. If I’ve chosen to sit down and nurse my child there… I’ve done it because that’s where I want to do it.

Over to you. How could good alloparents make your life easier?

 

August 16, 2009

We are all alloparents part two: why should you care?

Posted by rosemaryterrace under Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , |
[6] Comments 

In part one of We Are All Alloparents, I talked about how difficult it can be to get through the day even as a TAB mother of one without the help of alloparents.

I’m very much of the opinion that alloparenting is one of many ways to stick two fingers up at the kyriarchy, and probably a feminist act too.

But why? Why should you care? Especially if you’re not the guardian of a child yourself?

Firstly, I wanted to look at the old “but you chose to have children” card that is often pulled out when guardians of children usually the mother dare to ask not to be discriminated against and possibly even helped because of their childed status.

Two things. First of all, you don’t know whether or not someone actually did choose to have children. Until contraception and abortions are freely available to all who want them, you can’t know for sure if someone really did choose to have a child. (And conversely, you don’t know for sure if someone really has chosen not to have children; they may have, but they also may not have been able to.)

Secondly, so what? So what if I chose to have a child? I also chose to rent my house from a private landlord rather than buy it or rent from a housing association. I still think I’m entitled to protection and rights in law even though it’s a choice. I chose to work part time at the local council; I could have gone onto income support or taken a full time job elsewhere. But I still should be entitled to, for example, union representation, even though I made that choice. Why does something being a “choice” immediately mean “and therefore you have no right to complain ever”?

But it’s not just that. It’s more than that. See, yes, in my case, I did have a choice. But here’s the thing. My child? Another human being? He didn’t have any say in the matter. He came into the world without a choice about it.

Even if you don’t think I’m entitled to any special rights because I made the choice to have a child, surely my child is, as another human being? I mean, children are people too, aren’t they?

And if you give a shit about standing up to kyriarchy at all, then isn’t standing up for someone in an oppressed group (and yes, children are an oppressed group – one day I will write that “adult privilege” checklist) one way of saying no, I’m not going to accept this “rule of masters” thing?

And if you give a shit about feminism at all, isn’t helping out another sister a worthwhile thing to do (and I say sister because it is usually the mother of the child who is in need of the help – usually, although not always)?

But it’s about more than that. It’s about the fact that alloparenting – assisting the parent and child who are struggling – is a great way to model to the next generation that this is what you do. That if people struggle, you don’t make it worse for them; you make it better. That you don’t discriminate against people because they’re acting in a non-kyriarchy approved way. That you don’t kick shit out of an already oppressed group. Aren’t these the lessons we want to impart? What better way then, than modeling those lessons?

And let’s not forget kyriarchy is cruel. And one day those children will become the “masters”. Do we want to be “ruled” by them? Or do we want to break that cycle?

 

July 11, 2009

We are all alloparents: Part One; a day in the life

Posted by rosemaryterrace under accessibility, general public, the "terrible mum" complex | Tags: , , , , , , , |
[7] Comments 

It’s an often used phrase and something of a cliché that it “takes a village to raise a child”.

Alloparenting is, if I recall correctly, a term first coined by anthropologist Sarah Blaffer Hrdy (yes, her of “there is no maternal instinct, except, well, maybe it’s prolactin/oxytocin, but even then, who knows”.)

Hobo Mama wrote an amazing article about alloparenting here.

But I want to extend it a little. To me, alloparenting, in this day and age, is simply realising how tough it is to be a parent (usually mother); how badly the world as a whole treats children and why this is unfair and dangerous, and wishing to do something about it, for everyone’s sakes, by small individual acts.

I want to tell you about what it’s like trying to do a few normal, everyday tasks as an able-bodied single mother in the UK. And then I’m going to try and convince you why it’s everybody’s job to make these tasks easier for me, for my child, and for every other parent (single, partnered or whatever) and child out there. Finally I’m going to suggest a few ways in which to do this.

So bear with me please while I start part one. There may be some ranting. ;)

[Full disclosure - although I'm technically not "single" in that I do have a girlfriend, she lives in the USA and currently can only visit rarely.]


Supermarket shopping and other delights

I’m a babywearer, so I don’t have the full joy of pushing a buggy with one hand and a trolly with the other. I don’t have to choose between leaving my buggy parked outside where someone can grab it and putting my baby in the shopping trolly. He comes with me, usually on my back, but sometimes he prefers to sit in the trolly.

I know I have a finite amount that I can carry in my hands and also carry a baby home too. Taxis are expensive (and also unlikely to have an appropriate child safety seat) and the bus doesn’t run from the cheapest supermarket back to my house. I have to buy only what I know I can carry.

This means sometimes spending more on smaller, lighter items when buying in bulk would be so much cheaper. Shopping online is not really an option because of the delivery charge and other reasons. I automatically spend more because of this.

I carry my child around on my back or in the trolly and he becomes bored. If, in the rush to get him and me out of the house, I’ve remembered (and how many of us forget to take shopping bags!) a toy, I try to placate him with this. Otherwise I’ll let him eat a punnet of grapes or blueberries in the supermarket, preferably one with a fixed price rather than by weight, so I’m not stealing. Although I have still received glares for this.

Thankfully the majority of supermarkets have toilets with babychanging facilities. I don’t like the word “babychange”. I prefer “age appropriate toilet facilities”. Because when an organisation or company doesn’t have these, they’re effectively denying a person a place to go to the toilet based on their age.

If my child cries, I have to stop the shopping. If I choose to take him outside, I have to leave my trolley behind. There’s no one to stand with it, there’s no one to offer to comfort or soothe him; there’s just me. If he wants to be carried but won’t go in the sling, I have to carry him and push a trolly, or push him around while he’s crying, ignoring his cries.

Have you ever seen the looks you get when your child is crying in a supermarket? People blame you, and only you, for not shutting that child up. The glares, the tuts, the out and out anger?

No wonder the supermarket is the place where you see people hit, shout at and generally behave horribly to their children. I would bet that most of these parents aren’t at all like that at home but the constant looks, the feeling that the need to appear disciplinarian, that people are expecting them to do something to shut the child up – that’s what tips people over the edge.

I know I respond very differently to my crying child at home to how I do in a public place like that. I try not to, and I would never ever hit him, but I must confess I have shouted once or twice in a supermarket, despite knowing it absolutely isn’t his fault and it’s the most boring place in the world for him.

Then there’s the queue for the till; a hellish nightmare if you have just one screaming meltdown child. The sweets are all displayed temptingly just to force you to either buy them or say “no”. Even on the way out of the suepermarket, when you finally think you migh be able to get home, the foyer is often full of “ride on” toys, which are a minimum of 50p for one ride.

The walk home with heavy bags takes it out of you, but there’s no one in the house to put the kettle on for you, to help unpack, to let you take the weight off your feet while they get on with the tidying that needs doing. It’s just you. On your own. And you’ve a child to feed first, too.

Then, other public establishments like banks where it’s considered polite to be quiet – difficult if you’re a child – cafés (yes, mums do like to have a nice cuppa tea and a sit down) where again, unless it really is super child friendly, you’ve a fight on your hands if your child so much as makes a peep; public transport where your child not only has to sit down and be relatively quiet but also has to sit still; where age-appropriate toilet facilities are non-existent (okay, in fairness, there are no toilet facilities at all on buses for any age) and where, if you want to go to the toilet, you have to take your child with you in addition to all of your bags and shopping.

And there’s more, much, much more; this is only the tip of the iceburg. It’s exhausting. And then you have to go home and do it alone too. And possibly go to a paid job, too, and then you have to be up in the night, often, and… well, it’s a wonder we don’t just drop down into a heap from tiredness. If I could, I would. But I can’t. And let’s not pretend my child doesn’t suffer, at least a little, as a result.

Unless someone helps. Unless the kind server in the bank has a toy behind her desk to keep my child entertained while I check my direct debits. Unless someone offers to keep an eye on my belongings while I go to the toilet on the train. Unless someone smiles and gives me a sympathetic look when my child is crying in a café and says, you’re doing a cracking job love, it’s hard sometimes.

And more. These are the tiny things, the small acts of kindness that make a difference. And this is alloparenting, in my opinion.

In part two, I’ll explore what happens to parents and their children when they are left to go it alone, and why “but you chose to have a child!” is a ridiculous and disingenuous thing to say to a parent who is struggling.

 

June 13, 2009

“Raising Boys”? Really?

Posted by rosemaryterrace under discipline, food/nutrition, gender stereotypes | Tags: , , , , , , , , |
[10] Comments 

I read a review recently over the the F word of a book I was seriously considering buying. Thank goodness I did. I’ve a feeling the book might have pushed my blood pressure sky high.

The book was “Raising Boys” by Steve Biddulph. I’ve read a couple of articles by this author, and to be honest, much of the time he’s been fairly spot on when it comes to the things I’m a fan of, like full term breastfeeding, co-sleeping etc., some of the things that often come under the banner of “attachment parenting”.

Why would I, a feminist mum, even consider buying a book like this in the first place? I mean, surely in that Glorious Utopian Future gender won’t matter at all anyway? Why would I treat my kid any differently than a girl if he turns out to be making the journey along the “path to manhood“?

(As an aside, and the reviewer of the book didn’t mention this, I’d be interested to learn if Biddulph ever points out that a kid being born with a penis isn’t necessarily a marker for that kid being a boy? Or that not every kid that grows into a man will be born with a penis? Because I would place a rather large sum of money on Mr. Biddulph not mentioning this at all. And I bet intersex kids don’t figure on his radar. Or genderqueer kids. But, in all fairness, I haven’t read it – please feel free to correct me.)

Those of you who know me will know that I’ve not been having the best experiences with adult men recently. And I’ve even occasionally found myself coming out with the usual “all men are bastards” “bloody men” etc.

Fact is, I’m really hoping all men aren’t bastards. Because my child is probably going to be one, one day. I’m hoping that there’s going to be a pleasant, non-bastard niche he can find in which to grow.

And though, at this young age, gender neutral parenting seems the way to go, when he’s a bit older? I’m not so sure.

Because, and before we even get into the effects of testosterone, boys come under so many influences from the outside world that we need something a bit beyond “no toy guns, wearing pink clothes now and again, get him to help with the housework etc.” (I’m aware that most feminist parents do a heck of a lot more than this, but I have heard it couched in similar terms!)

But of course, it’s easy for me to come out with this. After all, I’m Mum to a two year old. I’m still at that stage where my child is just a kid, I don’t have to worry too much about the other boys in his class egging him on to more and more dangerous stuff; about them bonding together over misogyny; over him receiving messages his role is about fighting (under the guise of “protecting”) and working himself into the ground (under the guise of “providing”) and much, much more.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still influences even on a two year old, but they can be tempered a lot by parental influence. As he gets older? I’m not so sure.

I think a lot of feminist parents (that I’ve come across) believe that by encouraging behaviour that is largely considered “feminine” in their little boys, they can help raise a well-rounded individual (and that rare, but not extinct  creature, a man who does housework without being asked).

The other day on twitter, Anji tweeted a feminist quote about few having the courage to raise their little boys more like little girls, or words to that effect.

And again, I think this is a start. But I don’t think it’s nearly enough. Because once we reach the stage where we know the end product is going to be a man, we’ve got a distinct kind of fight on our hands.

And you know something? A man who doesn’t do the housework without being asked? One of the very, very least of my worries.

I’m worried about the men that rape. The violent men. The emotionally abusive men. The men who get together with their friends to get one over on the ex. The men who turn misogyny into an art form. The men who look to all the world like “respectable” men but are seething angry on the inside. The men who everyone believes are the “perfect father”, right up until you read the newspaper article where they’ve killed their ex and the children. The men who start big businesses with the aim of fucking everyone else over.The men who start wars. The men who have the power to change things for the better, but instead change everything for the worse.

So if the worst thing that happens to my kid is that he grows into a man who occasionally leaves his dirty boxies around for his girlfriend/boyfriend? I can deal.

But before we can deal with making sure little boys don’t turn into That Kind of Man, we have to know what it is that causes it in the first place. And that is quite painful, because if we’re saying we are capable of tempering it, does that also mean that we, the parents, also play a hand in causing it? We surely don’t want to believe that. Aside from the mother blaming that will surely be inheret in such a conclusion – well – it just doesn’t feel very nice!

But what’s the alternative? To say we don’t have any influence at all? Or that the influences from outside are just too powerful? Influence and fault are linked, albeit less obviously than the likes of the Daily Fail would have us believe.

And I do think we have influence. Or at least, I hope we do. Because I don’t want my kid to grow into One of Those Men. So where to start?

I’m opening this thread up to ideas from everyone, but I wanted to start with just one of my own – a straw I’m clutching to at the moment, but still.

——

If we want to stop our child from being negatively influenced by peer pressure, we have to make sure our child has the strength to say “no” to people who are trying to get him to do something. (We also have to make sure that somehow he knows that thing – if it is something nasty – is wrong.) We need to make sure he doesn’t bow to negative peer pressure; give him the strength to say no in the face of very powerful opposition.

And what’s the most powerful opposition in a toddler, or young child’s life? Er, that’s right. You are. The parent. And if you never, ever allow your kid to say “no”, or to disagree with you, aren’t you showing them that they must alwayus do what the more powerful person/people say? If the boy isn’t allowed to disagree with you, to have his own opinion, to tell you, no, actually, I’d like to go to bed at nine tonight, or no, I don’t want to turn the television off, but you say, you will do it, because I say so and I am the person in the position of power here, and force that child to capitulate every time?

Aren’t you teaching him that (a) might is right and (b) you aren’t allowed your own voice of dissent and (c) power is a good thing to be able to get because it means you can tell people what to do all the time?

Obviously, the argument holds truth the other way too; if you always let your child do absolutely everything they want, you’re probably not presenting that great a model either.

But shouldn’t there be room for discussion? For compromise? Even for honesty “I want you to go to bed at eight because my girlfriend and I want to spend some time being grown ups / because I want you to have a good night’s sleep so we’re all fresh for the park tomorrow / etc. but you can read in your bedroom if you like”? Or, “I know you don’t like the taste of sprouts, but I want you to have a healthy body; what other options do you think we could come up with for green vegetables?/ I realise now you don’t like sprouts, but I’ve bought and cooked them now, and they’re very expensive, what sauce would you like to put on them to make them more edible? / I see you don’t like sprouts. Mummy likes sprouts. You can have Mummy’s peas.” etc.

I really want ideas here for feminist parenting especially how it pertains to boys, particularly if they fit in with attachment parenting / unconditional parenting but just any ideas are welcome. So, dear readers, over to you!

 

May 4, 2009

Department of WIN! Star Child Shoes

Posted by rosemaryterrace under Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , |
[7] Comments 

I’d like to nominate Star Child shoes for the very first department of WIN award.

What’s the department of WIN?

Well, some time ago I wrote a blog post, Breeched from Birth, looking at how we use children’s clothing right from birth to push them into gender stereotypes.

I mused on why children’s clothes needed to be segregated into “girl” and “boy” clothes seeing as the basic shape of children is the same until puberty begins. Why couldn’t clothes for children just be organised by category, e.g. babygro, trouser, skirt, jumper etc.?

That would be a start, but I would also like to see less frillyfication of girls’ clothing (it gets to the point where the garment is impractical as the frills don’t wash well) and less, erm, blokification of boys’ clothing (“mummy’s little soldier” etc.) too.

I got chatting to Anji about it and she had the idea of coming up with a department of WIN, a department of FAIL (o hai Tesco!) and I wouldn’t mind a department of MEH too but maybe that’s pushing it!

So how to define WIN? Personally, I think in order to WIN a clothing shop, whether online or in real life, needs to meet at least two of the following criteria (and to get a MEH would meet just one, to get a FAIL would meet none):

1)      Clothes are separated by garment type or other way that isn’t based on gender

2)      No clothes that are so flimsy as to be impractical; no clothes that glorify violence (especially not if these are showcased as “girl” and “boy” respectively)

3)      Pictures of children in the clothes that include boys that aren’t wearing blue, grey, dark green or brown, and girls that aren’t wearing pink, purple or lilac.

But that’s just a rough idea. Any additions or subtractions are welcome. Of course, it also helps if the clothes wash well, are reasonably priced, do not use sweatshop labour to produce them, are environmentally responsible and so on.

Anyway without further ado onto Star Child shoes.

I was looking for some shoes for Bertie (my two year old) for a wedding. He was going in a maroon pair of flairs with maroon cravat and waistcoat and a white shirt (all from charity shops). I wanted something smart but quirky. I scoured the shops and found only clunky, ugly looking shoes, or incredibly flimsy, impractical looking shoes (can you guess which was intended for boys and which for girls?)

Via the natural parenting magazine Juno, I happened upon a company called Star Child shoes. Not only are the shoes organised by style (and not boy/girl) but they come in a wonderfully diverse range of colours and patterns, whilst all being the same basic shape.

They are also incredibly practical in that they are more like slippers, but with a solid suede base so they are not particularly slippery. They also allow a lot of room for feet to stretch; despite what the likes of Clarks might tell you to get you to part with your £20+, less is often more when it comes to shoes (with bare feet being best of all).

The price? Well, they’re not amazingly cheap, weighing in at around £17 a pair, but unlike shoes that come in sizes (e.g. 4, 5, 6) they come in months, so your child’s feet grow into them and they last about six months.

They are handmade in the UK, and use non-toxic dyes (you know how kids love to suck their feet).

And, you can fling them in the washing machine on a low heat (although, I did notice the dye did run a little on Bertie’s shoes, so take care to wash with other similar colours) and even when they dry (not in a tumble drier) they are still soft and pliable.

The one thing that does concern me is that the shoes have leather uppers, which is not an option for the majority of vegetarians and vegans.

Back to the beginning though, the thing I’m most impressed by is the sheer range of styles and the fact none of them are listed as “perfect for your little princess / soldier”. They feature styles that children love (bright, colourful, pictures of vehicles, animals and confectionary) and they don’t shoehorn (pun intended) children into stereotypical gender roles.

Star Child shoes = WIN!

(Well, you wanted to see the shoes on, didn’t you?)

 

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