In her recent New York Times news analysis, "The Politics of Motherhood Become a Campaign-Trail Cudgel," Katie Rogers delves into the growing political narrative that elevates motherhood as a symbol of commitment to the nation’s future. A key point in her discussion centers on Vice President Kamala Harris, who, unlike some other politicians, has not had biological children. Critics argue that this absence of biological motherhood somehow lessens her "stake" in the country’s future, since she is not a biological mother to the next generation.
This argument taps into a broader, more complex societal conversation about what it means to care for the future and how motherhood is increasingly being used as a political tool. In this context, motherhood is framed as the ultimate expression of responsibility and investment in the country’s future. However, such rhetoric risks marginalizing women like Harris, who make significant contributions in other ways but do not fit into the traditional mold of motherhood. This echoes long-standing issues the feminist movements, particularly the second wave, have fought against.
Rogers’ article ultimately highlights how the concept of motherhood is being weaponized in political debates, with women politicians’ authenticity and commitment to future generations being unfairly measured by whether or not they are mothers.It’s important to note that Vice President Harris is a stepmother, or "bonus mom," to her husband Doug Emhoff’s children.
Parenthood, whether through biology or marriage, is a profound commitment that involves caring for and shaping lives. Moreover, it’s crucial to recognize that life holds value at all stages, not just at birth. The idea that having biological children is the only way to have a genuine stake in the future might overlook the many ways individuals contribute to society.
Suggesting that parenthood is the sole path to humility and responsibility toward future generations can limit our understanding of the broader dimensions of leadership and care. Figures like Fannie Lou Hamer, Myrlie Evers, and Rosa Parks, for instance, teach us valuable lessons about these virtues. So too have my own grandmothers and mothers—yes, I have more than two, including wonderful bonus mothers—embodied these qualities throughout their lives. The inference that Vice President Harris, as a Black woman, is "arrogant" because she hasn’t had biological children is both inflammatory and deeply offensive. As a Black woman, hearing such a suggestion—especially from a white woman—feels like a deliberate provocation. Black women have historically endured generations of racism, hate, and violence. We’ve been beaten, lynched, spat on, and lost jobs, facing countless injustices simply for being perceived as "arrogant" or "unhumble." These lived experiences, exemplified by fictional characters like Minnie and Aibileen in The Help or Sofia in The Color Purple, reflect the real struggles of Black women somewhere in the world.
To imply arrogance or a lack of humility in this context not only revives deeply rooted stereotypes but also perpetuates the harmful labels Black women have fought against for centuries—like being branded as Jezebels, Sapphires, or the "Angry Black Woman." This isn’t just about dismissively referring to childless women as "Catwomen," as if all they care for are their cats. It’s a continuation of the same degrading rhetoric we've endured for far too long.
In today’s political landscape, there seems to be a bias against women who haven’t given birth, often reducing their worth to their ability to have children. This perspective, however, overlooks the many forms motherhood can take. Not giving birth doesn’t make anyone any less of a woman or mother. Motherhood can take many forms, and valuing women solely for their ability to bear children can ignore the broader, richer dimensions of what it means to care for others and nurture the future.
The concept of motherhood is not defined by how many biological children one has. While some mothers give birth but struggle or fail to care for their children, and some fathers—often referred to as "deadbeat dads"—neglect their emotional or financial responsibilities, true parenthood goes beyond biology. It’s about care, love, and responsibility.
Though sperm donors and womb warmers will always exist, there are those in our communities who step up to care for children who aren’t biologically theirs. These individuals adopt, nurture, and raise others’ children for various reasons. Known as community mothers or "other mothers," these caregivers transcend traditional gender roles. Both men and women take on these responsibilities, showing that caregiving and parenthood are defined by love and commitment, not anatomy.
Community and "other mothers" play a vital role in reshaping young lives by offering connection, family, care, and love. These qualities come from within—a reflection of character. The tradition of “other mothers” is steeped in African, West Indian tradition, African American traditions, such as church mothers, the Headstart tradition in the Black community and women like, Bernice Musgrove at age 90 was still caring for children and countless others. As Tracee Ellis Ross beautifully expressed, "a woman’s worth is not measured by her baby count... childless women have been mothering the world and elevating culture as aunties, godmothers, teachers, mentors, sisters, and friends... you do not need to push out a baby to help push humanity forward." This reaffirms that the essence of motherhood lies in nurturing and uplifting others, regardless of biology.
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