Being The Mama Who’s ‘Other’
Dear Leading Ladies,
The moms among us, particularly those who came to motherhood in the 80s and 90s, joined mothers’ support groups the way our mothers talked over their back fences. We met in each other’s homes or at the park or playground, at the Y or in a church basement. We talked about when or if we wanted to go back to work, even if we knew we had to; whether we loved or hated nursing and how we felt guilty for both; how our husbands were or were not disappointing us with their attempts at co-parenting; how we were going to be supermoms or if we even wanted to be; when we might ever get a full night’s sleep or feel sexy again.
Some of us may have felt “other” in our mother’s groups. We may have been the only mother over 40 or single or Jewish or Muslim or Latina or lesbian or divorced or without a college education.
Or Black.
Black motherhood = unique challenges & anxieties
Today’s moms are joining mothers groups in record numbers, some virtual and some in-person, especially since the pandemic. And one mother, Helena Andrews-Dyer, has written a book that explores how she felt as the only Black mother in her all-white mothers group and what that taught her about the ways mothering is a very different experience for Black women than it will ever be for white women. There is much her book has to teach white women, as it describes generations of mistrust, pain, fear, and anxiety that accompany the experience of feeling like “the other” in this country, most especially when you are Black.
Andrews-Dyer says her book is not a “field guide” or “a book trying to explain Black motherhood to white mothers.” But it kinda does. The book is clearly her story and it details her friendships with a group of white women from her gentrified neighborhood in Washington, DC, who called themselves the Super Cool Moms. As she learned to trust these women with her most intimate issues of mothering, marriage, and more, she maintained a vigilance and wariness born of the systemic racism that defines American society.
A senior culture writer at The Washington Post, the author offers readers insights into her experiences and those of other Black mothers, often with a wry sense of humor. Here are some takeaways.
When she first joined the group, Andrews-Dyer felt compelled to “dial it down, be non-threatening, be Black but not too Black, basically never too comfortable.” As the women introduced themselves and their children, one mother had a name that was difficult to pronounce. That annoyed the author because “White folks could name their [child] any collection of letters in the known alphabet and everyone just dealt. But let a mom of any other color get ‘creative’ with spelling and pronunciation and such, and suddenly your baby is unbankable.” She notes that her baby’s name, Sally, is “resume-approved.”
On her first day at a baby music class attended by some members of her mothers group, Andrews-Dyer made sure to arrive early, “because, as the only Black person, showing up late was not a good look.” And also because she had a suspicion about missing some sort of gathering that might take place beforehand – a fear that harkens back to secret meetings over the centuries where whites excluded people of color while making decisions that adversely affected them.
When a child in the group met a developmental milestone ahead of Andrews-Dyer’s daughter and the mother said, “you can’t compare them,” the author wondered if the expectations were lower for her child because she was Black. She writes that she wouldn’t have felt this unless she were the only Black woman in the group.
Andrews-Dyer recounts being in a playground with her family when a Black boy from “the projects” started harassing a white girl and trying to take her bicycle. The girl’s father did nothing, but Andrews-Dyer’s husband intervened, telling the young boy that he needed to knock it off because it wasn't his bike. The boy stopped for a bit but then went back to his behavior. Andrews-Dyer’s husband advised the girl’s father that they should probably leave, since the boy seemed hellbent on grabbing the bike. Though the boy was dressed in scrappy clothes and Andrews-Dyer’s family was nattily outfitted, the father of the girl assumed the boy was their son and told them of a charity that gives poor kids bikes. The author points to this experience as an example of how Black people too often look all the same to white people.
Black mothers wait with ears alert for a racist comment or action that may be directed at their child from an adult or other child, Andrews-Dyer writes. Will it be a child saying something like, “Black people are bad,” such as a little boy said to the daughter of her friend. Black mothers are constantly worrying about how to protect their children from racism and how best to respond to it. No matter how much they can reveal to their white friends, it feels impossible to convey this anxiety and vulnerability.
There are many things that Andrews-Dyer would never do “in mixed company” because they could trip negative and racist reactions from white society. They include eating watermelon with a pinch of salt, making ironic jokes about having a “baby daddy,” or leaving the house with her baby but without her wedding ring on. Even with her Ivy League education and Washington Post job, Andrews-Dyer believes that having a child out of wedlock would damage her reputation far more than it would a white woman’s.
Trying to understand being the ‘other’
We’ve all heard variations of the admonition that we can never understand others fully unless we have walked in their shoes. The truth is that we can never really walk in another’s shoes. We can imagine, we can experiment with alternative living situations, but we will never truly replicate another person’s or group’s lives. What we can do best is listen and learn. While some of us may never have felt like “the other” in any circumstance, and some of us may have, many of us will never experience being a Black woman raising children in American society. As we strive to increase our understanding and our empathy, books like Andrews-Dwyers’ The Mamas: What I Learned About Kids, Class, and Race from Moms Not Like Me, written frankly with honesty and authenticity, can help us all be better friends, allies, anti-racists, activists, parents, grandparents, and citizens.
Enjoy the waning days of summer!
Therese
Judy
Didi
Mackenzie (student liaison)
Leading Ladies Executive Team
Leadingladiesvote.org
ladies@leadingladiesvote.org