“Everyone knows that actions speak louder than words. In fact, studies show that only 5 percent of lifelong learning comes from instruction: 95 percent of what we remember comes from family and social interactions. At somelevel you likely know that your children learn more from what you do than from what you say. You may hear your own voice in the way one sibling talks with another. You may hear your children using the same line of reasoning with you that you use with them.”
–Respectful Perents Respect Kids by Sura Hart and Victoria Kindle Hodson
Posted 1 month, 2 weeks ago at 8:29 am. Add a comment
it was a hot and muggy night out in the brooklyn streets. the mother finally gets her kids to sleep to the sound of their one fan blaring in some calming noise and blasting hot air into their faces. she kisses her man, scoops a generous amount of ice-cream onto a cone, and walks down the stairs to sit at her stoop, feeling half guilty about the kids not getting any mint-chocolate chip ice cream, but fully enjoying it all to herself. just as she is about to give it one more lick, the woman shows up. though it had been a while since the woman had made an appearance at the mother’s stoop, they instantly recognized the glare of eachother’s eyes. they knew their truths would be out on the table like a fresh deck of cards. so there was no sense in hiding it. both were curious to see where this encounter would take them, so without a second passing, the woman sat next to the mother as the stagnant night air seemed to be cut by the slightest cool breeze….
the woman: mother! it looks like you are not keeping up with the hairstyles you used to have when you spent more time with me? you sure look busy. too busy to look good.
the mother: honey, if i can get those 15 minutes of sleep that it takes to do my hair, trust me, i’m goona take them! as long as its clean. though i’ve had a few days of overdue hairwashing before, truth be told. how about you, you still worry about your hair that much?
the woman: a woman has to be in touch with her sensuality, mujer! and my hair is an essential part of me as a sensual being, i take care of it because it makes me feel good. i only get this body once you know!
the mother: you got a point. what’s happen to me is that my priorities have changed. i find myself deeper and deeper into the world of giving. and yes, often that means that i forget about myself, and that is not ok, but this giving world is actually quite a meditative practice. because i don’t always want to give! but when i do, and i let go of me a bit, i grow a bit more. i would rather meditate for 15 minutes in silence all by myself than do my hair! different priorities…
the woman: girl, you need to take time for yourself! watch, after you do that awesome side french braid hair due you used to rock back in the day, you’ll feel soooo good! and you’ll look in the mirror and say to yourself “i still got it!” and that is going to elevate you to higher meditations mama!
the mother: you’re funny. i won’t lie, i miss that hair style! Though in honesty, something that has really changed is that I am not so interested in what’s going on outside as much as being focused on what is going on in the inside. I have learned to pay attention to the smallest influence and feeling that i have inside, and actually locate its root, place that feeling in the right context rather than just react to it. You know?
the woman: no, i don’t! everything is a reaction, what is wrong with that?
the mother: well, i tell you what’s the issue here, every reaction i have is a mirror to the children, and they will learn from my behaviour. For example, if i am tired and don’t address that, i start acting real strange…real pissy, grumpy, rude, and the b. i. t. c. h. starts coming out, and it doesn’t matter who is there, you are gonna get it! the root there is that i have been on the go for days without a chance to renew myself and my energy, if i don’t address the root cause, then my behaviour will be filled with negative reactions. And my children suffer, i suffer, my partner suffers. The children learn that its ok to not take care of yourself and instead act disrespectful. So, even if i am rocking a dope hairstyle and i’m looking soooo good, inside I am not feeling that great. Back to my original point, I choose sleep before I choose hair style!
the woman: girl, i remember when you were a b.i.t.c.h.! It was fun! we all got one and we all gotta make sure she’s sticks around for when you need her. Plus, doing your hair and spending time with me would rejuvivate you to heaven, and then you can come home all relaxed and fresh for your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Lol. My point is don’t let go of what is good!
the mother: you are persistant!
the woman: i am a woman! and too often you mothers forget that!
the mother: well, same goes for you, though you don’t forget, you just don’t know what its like to be a mother!
the woman: i may not know what it is like, but i do know that you are not just that! a mother is a part of you, but you are a woman, if you weren’t one you would not have these babies!
the mother: true, except that you haven’t experienced the process it takes to become a mother as a woman. Once you are a mother, you are always a mother, it becomes an absolute part of who you are. It is inseparable. You become one WOMOTHER.
the woman: WOMOTHER! there you go with your made up words! i disagree though. you must separate them.
the mother: why?
the woman: because your children will leave your side one day, and then what?
the mother: then I will still be a mother.
the woman: a mother that doesn’t need to make PB and J anymore. lol.
the mother: a mother that is going to spend some time doing her hair! lol.
the woman: mama, are you seriously going to wait 20 years before you touch your hair!? my point is that you can give the mothering thing all you got, forgetting that you are a woman, and then as the years pass by, your mothering career changes and you are left with a “who knows what” wondering what to do next. So before you get there, do me a favor, go braid your hair!
the mother: and my point is that I am changing, not only because I’ve become a mother, but because part of being a woman is learning to change, and accepting that. if you define womanhood by rocking a dope hairstyle then you will always be stuck on how the outer world defines you, rather than honing to your inner womanhood and the wisdom that comes from your inner strength. Girl, there are days that my hair is a mess, and the house is a mess, and i don’t want to cook, and everything is upside down, but knowing how to take 10 minutes to get in touch with my inner wisdom turns everything right side up, and it gives me the strength to get what needs to get done and still be joyous. Being a woman for me is knowing how to define myself and be always in touch with my deepest truth, so that if i go outside and my hair is not done I can still walk in joy and in love with myself and those around me.
the woman: ok. you got me. though there is still something you can’t deny; your sensual self. the woman that knows it is exeptionally wonderful to smell good.
the mother: hmmmm. smelling good? i’ll have to get back to you with that. i got to go get some PB and J’s ready. mua!
Posted 2 months, 3 weeks ago at 4:50 pm. Add a comment
I grew up watching a chichi or two hanging about, waiting to be feasted on. Chichi is the most common word for breasts in Mexico. No this is not an x-rated post, only one where I share a bit of what it was like to grow up in an embracing breastfeeding community. San Cristobal de las Casas was then (in the early 80’s) still a pueblito, the mornings and evenings filled with greetings from neighbors or strangers passing by created the atmosphere of a delicately woven web of humanity characteristic of a pueblito. This misty cold valley scented with firewood and fireworks was the setting for brown chichis nursing everywhere, at the markets, at the hospitals, at the tortilleria lines, on the minibuses, on the corner mango stands. To see a child nursing while attached to her mama in a chal/rebozo was a sign of the town’s health and prosperity.
My daily encounters with Tzeltal, Tzotzil and mestizo women breastfeeding their children was a reminder of my own sense of well being. As child who was born at home and breastfed for a couple of years, I felt an automatic joy at the sight of other children nestled in their mother’s bosoms. An automatic ticket to the feeling of home. A home defined by the selfless gift of a well nourished life. I was living a communal understanding of nursing as natural and normal, chichis were meant to hang out with a child’s hand, mouth or both attached to them.
As I became a teenager, formula was introduced rampantly throughout Chiapas, and Mexico, poor and working class mothers began to leave their homes and infants to go to work, new infant care centers began to open up. The vicious cycle of corporate interest began to create a pattern, a clear example: women found jobs making formula at the new Nestle factory so that they could afford to buy formula for their children who where now at day care centers. Higher class mestizo and Coleto families of San Cristobal, who had access to the latest bottles and formula, began to shrug at the sight of bare breasts. By the early 90’s I remember only seeing indigenous women breastfeeding in public, more and more i began to see children being bottle fed, including the times that I fed my own nephews their formula bottles. In recent times, though these massive influences and corporate effects on our culture still exist, indigenous children are most often breastfed. As a matter of fact, while talking to a junior high school friend of mine who is now a Doctor in Tzeltal an Tzotzil clinics, I learned that doctors are required to encourage mothers to breastfeed for a minimum of 6 months, however they would push formula before nursing claiming that indigenous mothers suffer from poor nutrition. Instead of supporting, “re-educating” or backing off, physicians recommend formula! (I won’t get into the sickness/details of the historically socio-political and psycological effect of colonization on indigenous peoples and how they relate to nursing mothers on this post, but do keep an eye out).
As a Tzeltal woman myself, I never thought twice about breastfeeding. We are talking about Natural Law here. When we had our first child, I was absolutely sure that breastfeeding had been a skill my ancestors had taught me. Not that I knew how to do it, but I believed (and still do) that I had a genealogical sense that would help me learn as my infant was in my arms. I know I am not the only woman who feels this way either. Living in New York City during the first few months of our daughter’s life, I was witness to an array of women from all walks of life, culture, ethnicity who where claiming breastfeeding as a natural process in human procreation and in turn making that choice for their own families. I also learned a lot about the history of breastfeeding in the United States and the drastic decline of breastfed children, and about places like La Leche Legue and their effort in creating a resurgent breastfeeding movement. Even then, I was not prepared for the utter shock of being a breastfeeding mother in America.
When I began breastfeeding in the thick of NYC I felt that my chichi worlds were beginning to collide. I came from this rich tradition of breastfeeding and chichis hanging about, to the judgmental and shocked gazes in NYC buses and subways, not to mention the one dude trying to get a good look at it for his own satisfaction. I often felt that I had to protect my breastfeeding space, and cover my exposed body to retain the sacredness of my relationships with my daughter. I chose to hold on to Natural Law, while my close sistah-friends and I photographed those NYC years of breastfeeding. My daughter will be able to look back and see herself nursing on subways, parks, buses, streets, stoops and realize the normality of such relationship even in an urban setting. It was so empowering to have felt that genealogical right, irregardless of the negative setting, it nourished my soul and I am sure that of our first daughter.
I’ve come a long way from breastfeeding on the rush hours of NYC subways. With our second, our son Caoba, I have been able to give myself fully to the relaxing chichi time while gazing at the tall Cedar and Douglas Fir forests of British Columbia, while being supported by the community I live in. It truly is a relaxing experience not only to my son or to me, but even to our first born daughter who is now five years old and cuddles by our side, or uses it as down time for herself. It is in this setting, as well as the setting of my mind, that I can give myself fully to the experience of nursing and benefit from the love that is part of our bonds. When I bring all of these experiences together, it makes me be that much more determined to work towards a world that can provide nurturing and empowering environments to all nursing mothers, irregardless of how long they choose to nurse for. STRESS FREE is key to a beautiful healthy relaxing nursing relationship. And a beautiful healthy relaxing nursing experience leads families and children toward well nourished selves. This is why my genes were strong! We are talking about hundreds, thousands, a millenia of years of women nursing children. So much so, that our ancestors, and here I mean our women ancestors, yours too, figured out that if they followed Natural Law and maintained a natural relationship to nursing children, that in the long run it would have an effect into the coding of our genes! By that I mean that an environment was tested, created, practiced, upheld so that such gene coding could manifest itself to its full potential, the evolution of each child and each family. I end this by asking you my sistah, and you my brother, to change our world one nursing at a time. Help each nursing mother and child you come across by ensuring a Stress Free environment, let go of your judgments, offer a pillow, smile, relax yourself, support in any way you can! And to nursing mothers, you are not alone!
Posted 7 months, 3 weeks ago at 8:07 pm. Add a comment