Reflections on being a mother of girls

My elder daughter turned 13 recently. I find this fact quite extraordinary and I am filled with a new sense of responsibility. Getting three children this far has been something of a feat, of course (!), but I now feel as if I have the huge challenge of nurturing a young woman. I have an older son, but that seems different somehow. Perhaps that’s because I have never been a young man, but I do have experience of being a young woman, so I am profoundly aware of all the special ups and downs that life can present to girls.

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A beautiful mother and daughter (this is not us!)

My daughter is strong, talented and determined. She is also loving, conscientious and kind, and experience tells me that this can make her vulnerable. The world has yet to fully come to terms with this potent mix of feminine powers, does not yet know how best to embrace it. It seems to me the world often seems to fear it. So, as a parent, as a mother, the conundrum is how to prepare my daughter for a world that may not be fully ready to receive her for all that she is and all that she can be, whilst also fostering her single-mindedness, encouraging her independent spirit and emboldening her to stay true to herself.

Earlier this week I posted a review of We should all be feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. This was given to me by a friend as a birthday gift. It’s a fuller version of a speech the author gave to a TEDx conference in 2012. Its context is Nigerian society, but there is much here that we can all take on board in terms of how we bring up our children and the values we attempt to instil.

I have a particular conundrum in that I have for a long time been what is disparagingly termed a ‘full-time Mum’. I took the usual maternity leave with my first child (my son) and when I went back to work he went to nursery for four long days every week (we had no family nearby to support us), a fact which haunts me to this day. My job was challenging and I was 50 miles away, so it was a difficult time. When I became pregnant with my second child not only did it make little economic sense for me to continue working but I felt my higher education job was incompatible with our circumstances. There was no way I could be the kind of parent I wanted to be whilst being committed to my career, and with no back-up it seemed impossible. My husband’s job was senior, demanding and in a relatively male-dominated industry so there was little prospect, in reality, of a shared model. So when my daughter was born I took a career break. I had another child during that time and took seven years off, which ended with voluntary redundancy.

When I recount this story I find it quite hard to believe myself – I was always very ambitious, acquired a Bachelors and a Masters degree, had a good career where I was respected, have always been a feminist, and yet as far as my children are concerned Mummy stays at home. Mummy does work of course (I have run a small business, I write and I do some occasional work for a charity) but I don’t work long hours out of the house like Daddy does so the lion’s share of the household work also falls to me. I don’t feel unhappy with this and I don’t regret any of the decisions we made and if I could do it all again I would make the same choice to stop working (I only wish I’d been there for my son sooner and not put him in nursery), but I do worry about the kind of messages this sends to both my son and my daughters about gender roles. What kind of a role-model am I?

img_3767When I reviewed We should all be feminists and the small companion book Dear Ijeawele here earlier this week, I wrote that both books had given me much food for thought. One of the first suggestions in Dear Ijeawele is that a woman should be “a full person” and not be defined by motherhood. I think in the early years I allowed this to happen, although with three young children and a husband working away every week for a number of years I had little time to define myself any other way! However…that is changing now. As my children get older and can take more responsibility for themselves I am trying to strike a balance between being there for them, but also not being there always, if you see what I mean.

Suggestion number ten in Dear Ijeawele is to “be deliberate in how you engage with [your daughter] and her appearance”. Adichie is a beautiful woman who embraces her femininity. She is a face of No. 7 cosmetics, a fact for which she has been criticised and for which she makes no apology. I have always struggled with my femininity; I think it was handled clumsily and fearfully when I was a teenager (I don’t think I’m alone). Being feminine should not be incompatible with feminism, this much I believe, but I struggle with both my young daughters’ desires to wear make-up, for example. I feel very conflicted as I want them to be happy with their natural appearance, to know they are beautiful as they are, and not to feel influenced by the media that they have to look a certain way or that a certain beauty product is a ‘must-have’. I also worry about the pressure to wear revealing clothing, although, as Adichie says, we should never link appearance with morality.

With a teenage and a pre-teen daughter, these are all very urgent issues. I’m afraid when they were young they did play with dolls and much of their environment was pink, though trains, lego and other colours were available! I agree it is important not to provide gender-specific toys and to encourage breadth and variety. Mostly, my kids liked to paint, make things and play with water, and I never tried to stop the girls getting messy – they were worse in fact! But the issues seem to be weightier now, especially as their thoughts gradually turn to their futures and as sexuality begins to emerge. They hear the news and find that there continues to be a gender pay gap in society, that there is not parity of treatment between LGBTQ and straight people, and that women and girls continue to be abused and exploited more than their male counterparts.

There is much that we all still need to do.

I would love to hear your thoughts about raising girls in the 21st century. 

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4 thoughts on “Reflections on being a mother of girls”

  1. I really enjoyed reading this Jules. I get where you are coming from. I worked full time when I had Martin & am a full time mum to Clare.

    I love being a mum &although it can have its challenges , I feel more fulfilled in this role , than I ever did working. Girls are totally different to boys, have learnt more from Clare abour make up . Friendships with girls are more tricky than boys . There is definitely more pressure on them now , than even 10, 20 years ago. Will have to see you soon my lovely friend. Xx

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    1. Thanks so much for sharing, Hil. You are a wonderful Mum. I too feel more fulfilled than I did in my career, but maybe that’s as much about the career choice? It’s a tricky one and we all just have to do what is right for us at the time. X

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  2. I’m not a mother but I had a conversation with my own when I was in my early twenties. My mother told me she had been a rubbish mother because she’d had post natal depression which contributed to her decision to go back to work. She felt guilt about being unwell and guilty for working, I was horrified. I told her that there would have been little point in her staying at home to go through the motions of being a stay at home mum if it was going to make her miserable. If she’d been unhappy I would have been. She gave me a good role model. She worked hard and carved out a good career for herself but she was a shocking cook! I hear so many mothers berate themselves and it drives me mad. What I believe we should teach young women is that there’s no “right” way to do anything. We all need to free our minds and determinedly carve our own way without taking on board other people’s judgement (voiced or perceived) on whether we’re doing things correctly. Balls to that. Let your girls be free. In order to help them achieve that freedom, free yourselves first. If your daughters are fed, educated and loved and you’re always available for them, you have little to worry about. Love and emotional freedom should be our gifts to them. You’re all doing a great job even though you’re all doing it differently.

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    1. You are so right, Amanda. Thank you so much for that. I think women generally, not just mothers, have this self-critical capacity that makes us judge ourselves harshly WHATEVER we do. Men/fathers don’t seem to do it as much. I love your comment about freeing our minds and carving our own way. If we can teach our daughters to do that we are doing well. X

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