Hello there. It’s been a while. As much as I would like for this blog to be consistent in terms of frequency in posts, I think for the season of life I’m in that I’m just going to have to accept that posts are going to have to be intermittent with the ebbing and flowing tides of my life.

I have a plan for this blog – a set course of things I’d like to talk about, to explore, to share, to educate on. But as many of you creatives (and life livers in general) know, there are times to follow the map, and times to just roll with what has been laid in your path. There are times to rest, and times to power through.

That being said, I had a vision of what I wanted my next post to be, but that plan isn’t conducive to my mental and physical state at the moment. So I’ve decided to lean into my experience, my current circumstances, and write about something I know better than I know anything else.

You see, as the blog name implies, I’m a mother. And in case you didn’t know, that often ends up meaning there are quite a few barriers and obstacles in following a routine or schedule or setting aside any time for personal endeavors, such as writing a blog, or really getting anything done, ever, at least not without some sort of major sacrifice.

Now, as much as I honor and adore that role of which was bestowed upon me by my first born in my early 20’s, I would argue that I’ve always been mom to some degree. As a child of the late 80’s/early 90’s, coming from very young, very poor parents from broken homes themselves, I spent a considerable amount of time alone. My parents were always working, late hours, long hours. Weekends, holidays. That’s not to say I wasn’t loved or cared for, but as a result of circumstance, I definitely grew up way before my time. I learned to cook, clean, and babysit at an early age. I worked with my parents, and on my own, and I helped pay household bills before I was out of high school. I took care of my family even as a child. I helped take care of my baby brother, and of my grandmother. I changed diapers when I was 5 and was sent in the store to gather my granny’s grocery list and use her account to pay when I was around 8 or 10 (ah, the 90’s). I took care of rent houses and helped operate and complete tasks for the family business and any community volunteer endeavors that my family took part in. I took care of my friends. I tended their broken hearts and scolded them on things they knew better and played peacemaker. When I was in college I took care of my bachelor friends, I cooked for them, cleaned for them, helped them with their homework. I spent more time than I would like to admit walking through physical abuse, non-consensual sexual encounters, pregnancies, abortions, and miscarriages with a LOT of my femme friends before we were 21. When I was a young adult before children I was a manager of a store and I was constantly decision making for my team, making sure everyone ate and drank and took breaks and covered their shifts when they were sick and did my best to nip drama in the bud. Then as my life propelled forward, I had a child, and then another, I raised my niece until she was 5, and then eventually became a mother to a total of 4 kids and 4 pets in a blended family in a life I never dreamed of or saw coming. And here we are – now I’m a mother in a chosen family constellation with a LOT of nuances and intricacies that are contrary to the standardized societal practices of living that are not always kind or conducive to anyone that exists outside of the “norm”.

Now, before we go any further, I do feel it is important to be clear – I do not believe we have to adhere to the binaries of masculine and feminine energies. Truly, I feel as though what is deemed masculine or feminine is like many of my other understandings and beliefs to be a spectrum, sliding back and forth or even existing in different places at the same time. Many traits that are defined as masculine or feminine are more so just what it is to exist rather than to be inherently one or the other, and over time society has framed many of these characteristics to be one or the other based on behaviors as a whole under the structures in place. Personally, making any kind of distinguishment for me is based more on feelings and ideologies that I cannot always attest to where they came from – are they truly from me or a culmination of all the pieces fed to me since by society before I ever came into being? Really, I suspect that many of these designations are quite arbitrary. We all know masc people who are gentle (typically a trait described as femme) and we all know femme people who are aggressive (typically a trait described as masc) but really, most of these presentations have the tendency to be situational. So, it stands to reason that identities can be all of the above and anywhere in between and transient and not at all and something else entirely which is really quite amazing and beautiful (aren’t we so lucky that we get to exist in a world with so many possibilities!?) But for the purposes of sharing and articulating my personal experience and relating to those who may be looking for a place to be seen, I hope my words will do justice in connecting.

As so many moms growing up in a society and a culture that would tell them everything about what it is to be a mother, to be a woman, to be femme and feminine, I’ve constantly been at odds with caring for the ones I love, and also trying to be my own person and strike the balance of it all and keep everyone alive, and not just alive, but thriving. It’s a labor of love, but it’s also exhausting and it isn’t always pretty. I remember my mom telling me once when I was a teenager, that even though she was nearing 40, she still felt very young in her mind. And now being in that stage of life myself, I get it. Even though I’m 38 years old, I still catch myself looking around for the expert – the adultier adult, the one with all the answers, the expert that knows what to do. But in my case, like so many others – I’m kinda it. When I’m lost or sick or scared – that adultier adult, that more motherly mother, they don’t exist. Those that I would look to either are no longer here, or their lives are so vastly different from my own that any wisdom shared typically comes with judgement or at the very least, shortsightedness. I’m now the middle generation with children of my own, also trying to take care of those older than me and to be honest I am just winging it 85% of the time. But really, in these postmodern times of change – of progress, post pandemic, “post-racism”, “wokeness”, challenging generational traumas and shedding of old laws, old beliefs that no longer serve in the face of obstinance, capitalism, collapse, threat of nuclear war….does anybody really know what in actual fuck they are doing??

It is through my very convoluted journey that I’ve discovered what I’ve always known, there isn’t one “right way” to do anything, matriarching included. We hold many truths. I’m a mother and an individual, the leader and the companion, both skilled and yet still an apprentice in this thing called life. As we all are, I’m the Maiden, the Empress, and the Crone. The Holy Trinity of the Matriarchy. We are more than the sum of our parts. And if you’re not quite sure you’re following my references here, yes, I’m referring to spirituality and psychology, the disciplines that have always driven our understanding of roles and behaviors in society since the dawn of humankind before we had the words and in-depth comprehensions to examine them. The roles and influences of goddesses and queens and healers and teachers and caregivers. To be all of the above – innocent and new, gentle and fierce, assertive and direct, wise and patient, home and adventure, and all with wiles and wild. Despite all of the attempts of a patriarchal society that controls, we are the foundational structures holding it together and defying systems of oppression for all. The glue. The divine femmes. The matriarchs. 

I want it to be understood, I do not believe a person has to have children or a vagina to be a matriarch. When I was little I remember my mother writing out mother’s day cards to friends and aunts that had no children of their own, and asking her why she would do such a thing. She told me because they still took on the roles of mothers, and that they wanted to be mothers and take care of people and took on those roles and actions in the ways that they could and that was something to be honored and appreciated. Even as a young child, I thought that was quite an amazing and beautiful thing that completely made sense. Of course we should love and honor and consider those that make those sacrifices and acts of love regardless of their ability to physically bear children. A mother is anyone who identifies as one.   

Now, I doubt my mother ever intended for me take that lesson as far as I did. Indeed, I am the black sheep of my family in that I am the most progressive (aside from the children I am currently raising). But here I am now, telling anyone who feels like a matriarch, that they are a matriarch, whether or not they have children, whether or not they are AFAB. Personally, I believe the societal definition of what a matriarch entails is too rigid. (Honestly, we get too hung up on semantics and definitions sometimes anyway – language is merely a tool, existence is much too complex to be explained by words alone, but until we figure out how to link up brains and spirits, we’re just gonna have to do our best). Even Webster’s definition leaves some room to the imagination stating “a woman who rules or dominates a family, group, or state” – it gives the example of being a mother or grandmother, but doesn’t note the biological qualifier is necessary (Matriarch, 2022). Of course matriarchs can be defined as biological mothers. But I think that the most crucial facet of what makes a matriarch is that they are the glue that holds people together in whatever way that looks for that group of people. For any kind of family. For friend groups. For coworkers. Tribes. Villages. And they can embody femininity in any way that applies to them, whether its being modest and soft spoken and kind, or with a no-bullshit kind of delegation that gets the job done. Whether it’s in a dress or combat boots. Whether it’s with a voice like a bell, or a growl. Whether there are children or childlike/inexperienced dynamics. We need Matriarchs. They are what makes the world go ‘round. Matriarchy is an *energy*.  And life is hard and the world is wide. It’s a huge responsibility to take care of each other. Why would we not include anyone who’s up to the task?

References:

Merriam-Webster. (n.d.). Matriarch. In Merriam-Webster.com dictionary. Retrieved from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/matriarch.