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Posts Tagged ‘feminism’

Today Catherine Deveny’s Lunchbox/Soapbox address Pernickety Parents: Catherine Deveny embraces 70s parenting popped up in my newsfeed, via The Wheeler Centre. And yeah, I get it. It’s a humour piece, in which Deveny describes herself as practicing ‘detachment’ parenting and nostalgically recalls the often comically laid-back parenting style of yesteryear, specifically the 1970s.

But here’s the thing; Deveny doesn’t just highlight the inherent humour in politically correct language changes that have occurred in the last 40 years, or reminisce over the potentially dangerous activities that were supposedly common practice back then. She actively attacks contemporary parents as helicopter parents. You know, the kind that hover. It’s a common phrase that drives me fucking mental.

Here’s a quote, showing where Deveny crosses the line from satirising herself into attacking other parenting styles:

There has never been more time, energy and thought spent on the raising of babies, toddlers and children, and it’s detrimental, counterproductive and narcissistic. It’s suffocating our children and oppressing parents, particularly women. […] Attachment parenting is the epitome of this competitive parenting as an extreme sport. The parenting cult where you wear your baby everywhere, never let them cry and all sleep in a big bed together. It leads to dysfunctional co-dependence and is simply set up by needy parents to enable their own abandonment issues.

You know what? Fuck off. Fuck off Catherine Deveny, for writing a funny piece about the difference in generational parenting styles, and turning it into a sneak attack on those that don’t agree with you. And honestly, it’s not so much an attack on parents who do things differently than you do – as mothers are most often the primary caregivers, this is an attack on women who do things differently than you do. Because women don’t have enough shitty judgement calls heaped on them every day of their damn lives.

I’m sure your piece is supposed to be all ha-ha-ha-can’t-you-take-a-joke, but no, not this time. Because belittling women who try to balance their kids and relationships, and potentially study and working lives as well, is a cheap, easy shot. Attacking women who are doing the best they can, often under intense societal pressures to live up to certain standards of parenting behaviour, is fucking low. Your writing is funny. Your message is vicious – if I don’t like what you’re doing, I’m going to make judgement calls on you using psychological terminology like ‘co-dependence’ and ‘abandonment issues’ in a public forum. What a cool joke.

I hope you feel real good about yourself. Because this kind of article doesn’t let anybody who varies from your narrow worldview feel good about anything.

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On Saturday I attended the book launch for Karen Adrews’ (of Miscellaneous Mum) book Crying in the Car: Reflections on Life and Motherhood. I haven’t read the book yet, but I have my copy and even just the title resonates with me.

It was a fantastic afternoon for me, and eye-opening in a lot of ways. I was invited by, and attended with, Lily Mae Martin, who is not only a brilliant artist but a raw and honest writer too. Lily and I met briefly two years ago at a Swimwear Galore, of all places. I had no Mama friends, and Sebastian was flirting madly with her, so I asked if she would like to catch up sometime (her daughter Anja is only a few weeks younger than Sebastian). That catch up never happened, because a few weeks later she left for Berlin, and has only returned a couple of months ago after around two years there. But during that time we corresponded by email and Facebook, and I religiously followed her blog Berlin Domestic, where Lily writes about the joys and hardships and mundanities of creating and parenting in Berlin, and her subsequent return to Melbourne. Go look. Now. I’ll wait.

Here is why the day was eye- opening for me – I met lots of writers and mothers and bloggers who are going through the same shit of balancing parenthood and having a brain as I am, and they are out there working, creating, insisting on time for themselves and finding opportunities, while I have been sitting on my arse for 2.5 years feeling empty and tired. And you know what? Fuck that noise.

I haven’t updated my blog in weeks, and a big part of that was moving house and work and study and shitty internet and pregnancy, but an even bigger part of that was laziness. I have written a couple of dozen blog posts in my head and made notes on none. I have thought, Oh I must make time for this because I find it rewarding, and instead faffed around looking at pictures of cats. I have felt tired and resentful that I am not writing, and then continued not fucking writing.

I have felt sorry for myself because I do not go out to things, because I do not meet new people or see old friends, but I moved back to the suburbs two months ago and can no longer excuse this with the thought of a long commute for events/social activities. At a certain point, the problem stopped being lack of time and a 1.5 hour drive to anything good… the problem became me. I have fallen into old habits, habits that I learned as a sick teenager and continued as a sick adult – habits of isolation. I know isolation. I do fine with isolation. Sure I feel lonely, but loneliness is itself an old friend. I read my books and make elaborate redecorating plans and procrastinate about writing anything, because producing work would imply some kind of obligation to do something with it.

So here is my new plan: blog regularly, and not just incredibly long and verbose pieces on A Topic. I want to share the feminist articles I’m reading, the opinion pieces on parenting, the cool tips and tricks on making family life (cooking/cleaning/parenting/crafts/whatever) that I come across. I want to write my thoughts on this pregnancy – can you believe I’ve only got three months to go? And most of all, I want to make contact with other writers and bloggers and produce some damn work and put myself out there a bit.

There it is. I’ve written it in a public venue and it will just be awkward for everyone if I don’t follow through.

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1.- You’re not fucking fat.
In fact, you’re young and reasonably attractive with the natural curves of any woman that doesn’t have the metabolism of a mouse. You are years away from getting pregnant, ballooning up with pregnancy weight and an over-sized fetus accompanied by extra amniotic fluid; years away from your breastfeeding size G-cup breasts that naturally deflate a little when the milk goes dry after a year of nursing; years away from your stretch marks and birth scars. Because all of those things will make you review your body image and come to terms with how your body changes over time, and you gain some sort of equanimity for your weight and shape and look because nobody is a supermodel except supermodels. You’re 20 and you look great and your attractiveness really has nothing to do with weight.

2.- Stop dating jerks.
Your first true love at 18 was wonderful and heartbreaking, and you’ve spent two years dating guys who are bad for you and will for several years to come. They don’t make you feel good about yourself, but you keep trying because you figure that if you make them feel good about themselves then they’ll return the favour. They won’t.

3.-Your friends are the people who show up when you say you’re feeling crap.
And it takes you years to learn this lesson – that when you phone a friend or two and say, ‘I’m having a really hard time right now’, it’s the people that truly give a damn that take time out of their day to listen to you or visit you or show you their support – and the people who make excuses, or don’t have five minutes, or are really busy right now can-I-call-you-back-never? They’re the ones who will always take when they need help, and never give it back when you do.

4.- Your family matter more than you realise. Because at 20 you’re still hung up on teenage resentments and trying to figure out how to be an adult and independent and still ask for help when you need it, but the truth is that you take that support for granted when it’s always been there unconditionally. Be patient, and kind, and give love and recognise when it’s given in return. And not just your parents and your brother – remember you have a whole crowd of grandparents and cousins and uncles and aunts who have always been around and interested. Because you know what? People get cancer and die and you can’t get them back again. Appreciate that the people who care about you stand back when you need it, and step in when you need it too.

5.- You don’t need to grow up so fast. You’re 20, and one day when you’re older with a family and a job and responsibility you’re going to nostalgically look back and realise you spent so much time fighting to be grown up and strong and independent that you forgot, for a while, how to be young. And it’s ironic that at 28 with a family and a job and responsibility you will feel like you enjoy life much more than you did as a young and free 20-year-old.

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