Before I became a mother, I thought of motherhood as a politically neutral status. Now that I have a child, I'm stunned to see how politicized the simple act of parenting a child is. Almost every time I post anything about my child on Facebook, someone comes along to shame me. They're often quite aggressive--from mocking my comments about my child to accusing me of being a child abuser because of my parenting choices. In one particularly hilarious and disheartening episode, I posted a complaint to Facebook about unsolicited parenting advice, especially that which comes from men. The first response I received from a man was--you guessed it--unsolicited parenting advice.
It's important, you see, to remind women that no matter what they do, it's wrong.
Some of the Reasons I'm a Terrible Mother
In the short month that I've been a mother, I've become terrified to share any opinions about parenting on social media, or to anyone whose views I do not already know. I'm adjusting to this motherhood thing, only beginning to find my footing and identity as a mother, and still recovering from an infection followed by a long and challenging birth. So I'm not afraid to admit that, when people question my parenting, it hurts my feelings.
Except that recently, I realized that nothing I do can ever be right by everyone's standards--or even by most people's. A culture in which anything less than perfect mothering is unacceptable is a culture in which imperfect mothering is child abuse. And mothering is, almost by definition, imperfect. Every day I must choose between my child's well-being and my own: can I take two more bites of food before feeding her? Is it ok to use disposable diapers instead of becoming a slave to cloth diapers? Am I a monster if I enjoy a few sugary snacks that will make their way into her breast milk and turn her into a sugar-craving addict?
The reasons I am a terrible mother are endless. And just in case I run out of reasons to feel guilty, a virtual army of people on Facebook and other social media sites are all too eager to help me find a few more reasons I suck as a parent.
Parenting Advice as Sexism: The Sexist Assumptions You Make When You Offer Unsolicited Parenting Advice
It might seem strange to assert that unsolicited parenting advice is sexist. After all, there are two parents in most families, so isn't dad just as victimized as mom?
LOL.
I'm kidding, of course, since anyone who has any exposure to parenting culture knows that dads might as well not exist. Commercials, websites, pediatricians, and so many other parenting advice hubs direct their information to moms. Dads are referred to as "baby-sitters," treated as saints if they merely show up and manage not to murder their children. Women who complain about their husband's lack of involvement are gently reminded that it's their job to make dad feel involved. Remember, moms, everything is your fault--including your husband's behavior.
At least one person comments on my parenting every time I post a photo of Athena to social media. I get unsolicited parenting advice every time I go out. Men in particular, including those who have never had children, are particularly eager to tell me all that I don't understand about child development. I'm sure these people think they're being helpful. But that helpfulness necessarily springs from a place of perceived superiority. Unsolicited advice is inherently condescending.
Unsolicited advice also requires a number of sexist assumptions, most of which have their roots in the notion of women as helpless, illogical, and unintelligent. When you give me advice I did not ask for, you assume:
That you are a trustworthy authority on the issue and that I am not.
That I do not have the ability to research an issue on my own, or that if I do, I cannot be trusted to arrive at the correct solution.
That you know what my baby needs, or what specific issues she faces.
That you have a better grasp on my baby's behavior than me.
That I trust you enough, and am insecure enough about my own knowledge, to defer to you.
Deference is the common theme in parenting advice. And deference is something women--especially mothers--are supposed to offer in spades. I can research parenting myself, thank you. I don't need to defer to some random dude's proclamation that my kid needs a particular supplement.
The One Type of Parenting Advice I Appreciate
Every time I rant about unsolicited parenting advice, at least two people apologize to me--usually my dear mother-in-law and my sweet cousin. Both are experienced, skillful mothers. Neither has ever offered unsolicited or unwanted advice.
I think that says something: the people who are most helpful are eager not to be obnoxious. The people who are intrusive and hurtful don't even recognize themselves in my words.
When I complain about parenting advice, I am not complaining about the gentle, loving affirmation that I'm doing ok. Nor do I object to shared stories of struggle or promises that it gets better. I welcome parenting advice that reminds me I'm doing my best, especially when it comes from people who know and love my baby. It's parenting advice that demeans my ability to care for my child that is the real problem here. And ultimately, that's what most unsolicited parenting advice is about--making the advice giver feel superior to the recipient.
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