I used to tell myself that I didn’t listen to Lana Del Rey because I found her music to be too emotional, too floaty, too weak. But that wasn’t true. It’s not that her music didn’t resonate with me. It scared me. I didn’t listen to Lana Del Rey because I didn’t like the possibility—which, in reality, was the unavoidable certainty—of my own vulnerability. I didn’t want to relate to her music, but I knew I already did.
I don’t think this is “internalized misogyny” per se, a hatred of other women that is really a projection of one’s own self-hatred. Hate is a rather strong word, and fortunately I’ve never hated other women, my own capacities as a woman, or even—and perhaps miraculously—my female body. For me, and for many others, I suspect, my complicated relationship with womanhood has always been more about fear.
While some people certainly do hate women—female liberation from male violence is probably number one on my list of “feminist” priorities—I don’t think hatred is the emotion behind much of what we see as garden-variety misogyny these days. I think people fear women and lash out accordingly. Women hold an innate and inherent power that frankly unsettles people. Men don’t like that they cannot compete on this plane, and perhaps women don’t like that they’re forced to. This kind of power cannot go unchecked—and so it is. All the time.
Many people fear women. So the young woman—the girl—learns to fear herself. I’ve run away scared several times. I’ve done my time as both the tomboy and the girlboss. Competing in the typically “male” spheres of sport, business, academia, and even standup comedy actually felt easier in some ways than the chaotic challenge of embracing myself as a woman.1 Success in these endeavors is based on what is tangible, external, measurable, finite, rational. A man’s world is arguably more cut and dry: you win the game, you make a certain number of dollars, you get published, you get the laugh. By contrast, womanhood involves tangling with the internal, the immeasurable, the infinite, the emotional, the embodied.2 It is often harder to submit to oneself, to one’s own heart and mind, than it is to conquer the hearts and minds of others.
There are two key transition phases where fear creeps into the female experience: adolescence, the period in which one becomes an adult, a woman, and matrescence, a term I learned recently and I’ve been finding rather handy these days, meaning the process by which one becomes a mother. The similarities between the phases have been rather striking, in my limited experience.
Adolescence
The fear of what it means to be a woman—what it will mean, if she ever gets there—starts for the young girl in adolescence. Young girls easily see the darker sides of things and are sensitive to the many cruelties and injustices of life. I saw a meme recently that said something like: Everything Nietzsche ever wrote, a 7th grade girl has already written in her diary, and probably in fewer words. “Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings—always darker, emptier and simpler.” No offense Nietzsche, but like, ya...
Sadly, being a woman is rarely talked about in a positive way, and girls pick up on the seemingly infinite and often conflicting demands of womanhood. Girls notice when they are called to help in the kitchen while the boys continue playing outside. They hear—and dutifully log in their minds—older women’s warnings about the many challenges ahead. They observe that the prettiest girls are typically the most popular. They read the magazine headlines at the airport about “How to Please Him.” They notice when they are complimented on their clothing more frequently than their character. Girls are unjustly forced to prepare for the inevitable prospect of their own commodification.
The question I remember hanging in the air at that age was “Will I…?” This question covered everything from the most innocent preoccupations of a typical teenage girl to her most existential hopes. “Will I ever get a boy to like me?” “Will I hold his hand?” “Will I ever be kissed?” “Will I be beautiful?” “Will I be loved?” “Will I be strong enough?” “Will I have what it takes?” Every day I thank God I didn’t grow up with social media, because if I had, I’m sure the answer would have seemed like a definite “no.”
But we girls grow up. We are forced to come to terms with the simultaneous power and vulnerability inherent in our youth and sexuality. We overcome many of our initial fears, and we reach a point where we feel like we’ve “got things under control.” Things feel somewhat stable for a very brief and fantastical period of independence. Looking back, most of my initial anxieties and fears about growing up and becoming a woman did not materialize, though I’ve faced significant challenges I could have never anticipated. Womanhood has been both different and better than I imagined it would be when I was young.
But then the cycle begins again with the prospect of motherhood.
Matrescence
Matrescence has much in common with adolescence, in that it is marked by fears, hopes, and plenty of uncomfortable bodily changes. That same question of “Will I?” is hanging in the air again—in all its embarrassing and existential glory. “Will I still fit into this bra?” “Will I ever have fun on my terms again?” “Will I be forced to abandon everything I’ve worked so hard for?” “Will I be a good mother?” “Will I have what it takes?”
Before I got pregnant, I honestly didn’t give much thought to the prospect of motherhood. Why didn’t I think about it? I’m ashamed to admit this, but I probably didn’t think about it in my twenties because there’s very little status in it, and I was busy playing Status Games. Understatement of the century incoming: we don’t value motherhood enough in our society. We don’t portray it in a positive light or think of motherhood as something to which we can aspire. A mother is “just a mom.” Having children is something that simply happens or doesn’t. The rewards on the other side of adolescence are clear because they align with what we value in society: youthful beauty, a promising career, “your whole life ahead of you.” But when we are confronted with motherhood, the rewards appear murky, and we back away scared.
Charli XCX was recently interviewed in Rolling Stone about her new album, brat, which comes out in June. Funnily enough, throughout the interview she talked bravely and tenderly about the prospect of motherhood. (The interviewer, by contrast, treated it with something like disdain. See bold below.) The article opens:
It was while creating a hedonistic, indulgent club album that Charli XCX started to think about what it would be like to have a baby. The 31-year-old has always been an artist of extremes, a main character thriving on an emotional and creative knife edge. But the timing wasn’t about craving novelty, on this occasion. She’s now in her thirties and in a happy relationship of equals with The 1975’s George Daniel.
An alternative reality, one in which she would be the supporting character, was presented to her when she went to Stockholm to visit her songwriting collaborator Noonie Bao, her first close friend to have a child. “It was crazy seeing her standing in the same clothes she’s always worn, but now she has this completely different perspective on life than I do. She’s not enforcing that on me; it’s just a fact. She’s not alive for the same reasons that I am now,” reflects Charli. It seemed like Bao understood some mysterious truth, accessible only through motherhood. It made Charli wonder if she’ll ever be privy to that secret. Maybe she’ll say, “Fuck it, I don’t want to conform to centuries of indoctrination.” If she does fold and become a mother, will she be fine with it — or will she crave the freedom she once had?
So let me get this straight: the year is 2024, internationally acclaimed female pop star gets engaged, enters her thirties, sees her friends finding meaning in motherhood, and interrogates her own desire to have a child. Female interviewer describes this completely natural inclination not only as “conforming to centuries of indoctrination” (a patently absurd statement3), but “folding.”4 If Charli XCX having a child is seen as “folding”—yes, yes, her life and career are now over… how sad… “she [will] be the supporting character”—what hope is there for the rest of us? Why do we position motherhood as “giving up” when it is arguably the total opposite?
Motherhood is not giving up on the future, it is literally creating the future—a future that is not some vague abstraction—but one that has a face and a name. I can’t think of anything more “main character” than bringing another human being into existence and creating the future of humanity.
What I see Charli sincerely grappling with in this interview is her own fear around what motherhood might mean for her vis-à-vis her thriving career. In fact, she reflects on how the question makes her feel like a child, an adolescent, all over again:
“My circumstance involves me making a decision and being like, ‘I’m gonna come off my birth control. I’m not gonna tour. I’m going to see what George wants to do, and then we’re gonna try for a baby,’” she says, and adds, after searching for what she wants to say, “I feel like a kid; I don’t feel like I can make that decision.”
Relatable. The prospect of motherhood is intimidating because it is inherently in conflict with the message we give young women for all of their lives up until that point: focus on yourself, your career, and your freedom. Our culture endlessly pushes the message to young women that they don’t need anyone but themselves.
I can buy myself flowers
Write my name in the sand
Talk to myself for hours
Say things you don't understand
I can take myself dancing
And I can hold my own hand
Yeah, I can love me better than you can
—Miley Cyrus, “Flowers”
Nearly 2 billion streams and counting (and that’s just on Spotify)
(And yet, even as I hear her sing the words, I don’t get the sense Miley actually believes this.)
No wonder when we’re faced with something that will demand the exact opposite of what we’re used to—a helpless baby, a family, life at home (certainly for a little while), and endless, lifelong sacrifice—we feel like young girls all over again, starting from square one, scared to move forward and break through to the other side. Charli XCX intuits this as well:
“It’s really difficult to know what kind of mother I would be, to be honest. But I would hope that if I had a child, I wouldn’t approach looking after my child the way I approach my career,” she laughs.
Indeed. Pregnancy has humbled me.5 It really does feel like going through a second puberty. Having a child makes you incredibly vulnerable, in ways that are uncomfortable if you’re used to going through life on Speedracer Achievement Mode. Yes, I have had to relinquish a significant degree of control, freedom, and independence already. I have had to stop doing many of the things I enjoy. Due to a painful pregnancy-related condition called SPD, it now takes me nearly five minutes to get out of bed in the morning and my husband helps me put on my socks. Despite the pain, I’ve gained countless other things: self-knowledge, strength, peace, crystal-clear priorities. I’ve learned that I cannot keep my heart in a jar. I have been rid of the delusion that I am in control of everything in my life and I know—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that I do, in fact, need other people.
We’re not setting the vast majority of young women up for success if we teach them that their value lies solely in their achievements, that their desire to love and be loved is frivolous, and that their vulnerability is a weakness to expunge mercilessly from their hearts. Not all women need to become mothers, of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that to love and be loved is not only woman’s highest calling, but all of mankind’s as well.
You're scared to win, scared to lose
I've heard the war was over if you really choose
The one in and around you
—Lana Del Rey, “California”
Cultivating courage in the face of constant change
It doesn’t take much courage to optimize toward an ideal, independent self. It is not stunning and brave to exist in a vacuum, preserve yourself in amber, keep your heart in a jar on the shelf. But it takes great bravery to peer over the edge of the unknown, and know that no matter what, you can handle whatever comes next. Women the world over do this every day. A young girl attends her first day of 8th grade at a new school. A woman falls in love. A mother gives birth. To be a woman is to be in a constant state of change and to be brave in the face of that change. This is true whether or not a woman becomes a mother. There is no endpoint to womanhood. We are always evolving. We are clay, always on the wheel.
This can be hard to accept, because we work so hard to get where we are that change can feel deeply threatening. I imagine most of the women reading this are working hard to build their careers, do creative work, and succeed in the world—myself included. I would never advocate for giving all that up. I suppose what helps me is thinking of life in seasons, each of them beautiful in their own way (I’ve talked more about this in a recent interview here). Women can have it all, I think, but certainly not all at once, and certainly not always on our own terms. Perhaps freedom is something to balance with other virtues, like sacrifice.
I would like to live in a world where motherhood is valued just as much as other worthwhile careers. I want us to find joy in female embodiment. I’d like to talk more about what is good and positive about being a woman and a mother. It’s not something we openly discuss because it seems to stereotype women. Feminism resists definitions because they seem “limiting,” but if we don’t say something, then we’ll just say nothing instead. This void needs to be filled; women are understandably afraid to walk into it alone.
Motherhood and creativity
Becoming a mother is a pro-creative act. Maybe having children is not something at odds with other creative endeavors, but, in fact, something that enhances them. Cool, creative mothers are literally everywhere. Joan Didion adopted her daughter. Actress-turned-artist Leelee Kimmel has two children. Ukrainian DJ Nastia had her daughter at a young age and her career has only exploded since. Miuccia Prada had both of her sons before 1991, when her label took off and she cemented herself as arguably the greatest fashion designer of the modern era. My mom had four children and still manages to grow enough food for the whole neighborhood, paint (very well, I might add), and learn how to do literally everything from etching to ceramics. I’d like to think my capacity to create good art, whatever that means, will not be destroyed by my ability to create life, but only strengthened and supported by it. (Yes, I will have less time and energy, especially in the early years. No, I can’t stay up until 3am outside a dive bar on the Lower East Side, but that seems a small price to pay.)
Aristotle’s concept of the good is relevant in this case. He argued that friendship, like truth, like beauty, are good in and of themselves. You’re not using them for anything other than the joy, the experience, and the sharing of them. That’s what it means to be a good in itself. The same could be said about both motherhood and creativity. Both are expressions of the same goal. Both are expressions of the good. Both are pursued for the sake of themselves, not for some economic or social gain.
Through my submission to this process, I know that I will come out on the other side having conquered something within myself. Something all my female ancestors knew, something that is known to every mother throughout the world. I will have created another precious human life inside my own body, bring that person into the world through my body, and nourish that person’s life with my body.
Yes, of course I’m afraid. But fear and excitement feel the same to me these days.
There’s obviously nothing wrong with pursuing these interests, but I think it’s important to not run away from oneself in the process.
This is not sexist, by the way. People tell on themselves when they say pointing out differences between male and female experience inherently “looks down on women.” This is only true if you believe the “rational” deserves higher status than the “emotional,” and I would argue it does not.
“Fuck it, I don’t want to conform to centuries of indoctrination.” Where shall we begin? Shall we start with “fuck it”? Yeah, “fuck” that whole motherhood thing that the majority of women the world over choose to pursue. The thing that the future of the world literally depends on. It’s a fact: the majority of women are mothers or will become mothers. And yet the dominant strain of feminism excludes the maternal element. Ladies… I’m sorry… I have to ask… what are we all doing here? 😀 What’s more, to imply that women only have children because they are brainwashed by “centuries” (? lol) of “indoctrination” is not the feminist slay the author thinks it is. Women don’t have agency, I suppose. Their desire for children is only because they can’t think for themselves. God, we’re all so stupid!
[Footnote on the footnote: I know I’m ranting here—I blame the hormones—and I’m sure this author is lovely. This is just one small drop of the water we swim in. We tell the majority of young women their desires are stupid and they’re indoctrinated for wanting to love and be loved and that I think that is not only WRONG but CRUEL!]
“If she does fold and become a mother, will she be fine with it — or will she crave the freedom she once had?” If you believe your own immediate pleasure is what’s important, then yes, having children doesn’t seem like a priority. As they say, “Parenthood is all joy and no fun.” There is nothing more counter to a hedonistic, consumerist culture than having children. Hedonism is about short-term pleasure; parenting is about effort, exhaustion, and discomfort for the sake of a very long-term meaning and satisfaction. Yeah, your lifestyle will take a hit. Also, I’m loving these two choices: motherhood is either something you will be merely “fine with,” or regret. That a woman could experience transcendent joy and deep satisfaction in motherhood doesn’t even register as a possibility.
Maybe this sounds nuts, but my husband and I never weighed the pros and cons of having children. We both come from large families, and having a family of our own always seemed like a wonderful, exciting part of life; full of sacrifice, of course, but it’s true what they say: nothing good in life comes easy. So, we didn’t “decide” to have a baby; I suppose we remained open to the possibility. I took a pretty laissez-faire attitude to the whole ordeal, which is atypical of me. (If I’m being honest, the prospect of “trying” stressed me out too much. What if I “failed”?) I realize many women don’t have the luxury of this attitude, and my heart is with anyone reading this who is struggling to conceive.
There's a quote from Zadie Smith's On Beauty that I think about a lot in terms of a potential advantage of being a woman: "One of the things about being a woman, he was beginning to learn, is that you have more built-in chapters. Women move through life in biological stages, for better or worse. Puberty, childbirth, menopause. Built-in chapters. Men are left with the problem of what to do when they reach the end of their own narrative.” I had never thought of how the "midlife crisis" many men go through was likely because they were confronting their own narrative arc for the first time and realizing it was a story in need of edits. How lucky we are to be aware of our stories from the beginning.
There are many contradictions about the value of motherhood. As a woman who is child free by circumstance currently: the notion that motherhood is not valued did not ring true for me. In fact, it is almost the only role in which women are valued. Many people can’t even picture what a woman’s life is if not as a mother (myself included until I was forced to reimagine what my life could be). I’ve never felt so invisible as a single 33 yo woman with a career. But how valued is it? Still very little as evidenced by maternity leaves that end too soon, child care that costs a fortune, dwindling school programs and education, all of which may fail and its up to the mother to fill in the gaps. I also do witness my friends who have kids now and I can see how lonely it can be, and hard, and in a way invisible too. Weirdly showered with attention and then finding their social circles shrink.
I also heard the messages to be independent and have a career etc though I am not sure that’s true for most women (did you also happen to grow up in a liberal coastal city? Seems that may have been my circumstance) but that message seems to have dropped off after school. Like they taught us that but now having arrived in the real adult world, it’s still a much less traveled path and certainly not universally respected or understood. It seems the most privileged role a woman can have is a mother still, almost aspirational for some (see: ballerina farm). Don’t get me wrong, I AM reimagining my life and happy to, but it’s unsettling at times especially in a world that doesn’t see the point of women if we’re not raising children.
Anyway, you’re going to be a fierce mom.