Monthly Archives: January 2014

Amy Glass, you might need a hug… Or to get laid.

My husband kindly sent me a link this morning with his own little personal message stating, “Have you seen this crazy woman’s blog post?” While he is known to exaggerate some (he has convinced our kids he laid all the brick work to our house even though he works at a desk as a sales manager), this was a gross understatement.

Amy Glass wrote an extremely out-of-touch and ignorant blog regarding women, parenting, and “feminism” here. This was published by Thought Catalog to drive traffic to their site. I’m more than happy to aide them in their efforts in order to highlight some of the more ignorant notions of this promotion of anti-feminism.

Amy Glass, who I assume to be a young, twenty-something who likely enjoys HBO’s “Girls” as much as I do appears to be a driven women who aspires to empower women. This, however, is where our similarities likely end. Ms. Glass opens with references to feminism and having to “fight back vomit” anytime someone argues feminism is about validating the choices we make as women. Frankly, that is the definition of feminism.

As mother to a daughter, I encourage her to be confident and dream big when it comes to her future. She knows she can be a doctor, president, a mom or, if she really wants to, all three. If she wants to be an escort (a high-class one, hopefully), I would fully stand behind her. Contrary to what my husband may jest, prostitution wasn’t my chosen career, but I DID choose to become a mother, which means supporting our children in becoming secure, independent adults… Regardless of gender. Please don’t misunderstand, I don’t wish for my daughter to become an escort or hooker. I also hope to fulfill one of my other parenting duties by being able to provide better options for her than that.

Speaking of parenting duties, let me elaborate a little upon some of the daily things a parent must do:

We must feed, clothe, and bathe them. Sounds easy, right? Feeding them requires making a list, doing the shopping, storing the food, preparing the food, ensuring there are clean dishes, serving the food, feeding them the food ourselves if they are young, cleaning up, and doing the dishes. We must do this 3-5 times each day. Clothing them and keeping them clean are equally time-consuming. For time’s sake, I’ll spare the details.

Choosing to become a mother (one who stays home nonetheless) was one of the more feminist choices I could make, for me. I chose to embrace my anatomical abilities, deliver three (huge) babies, run a household, and manage our finances, all while educating small children in various aspects of life. My daily tasks are varied, exhausting, and thankless.

I have the pleasure of knowing many kinds of mothers: mothers who stay home, mothers who work outside the home, mothers with PhDs, mothers who didn’t finish high school, mothers with one child, mothers with eight children, mothers who work FROM home (aka superheroes), and so-on and so-on. Would I ever venture to say one is better than another? Never… Not in a million years.

As Ms. Glass points out, it is noble to be independent, work your way up the corporate ladder, or travel the world. This CAN be done after children. It can be done before children. It can be done WHILE you are raising your children. Saying it can’t be done, is anti-feminist and places limits based on gender and circumstance. You know what else is noble? Raising children.

When my life comes to a close, many many years from now, I will be surrounded by my children. My husband, who I support and who supported me will be by my side. I will have lived a meaningful life full of love and joy with many happy memories. I doubt I will die rich with a large inheritance to leave behind, but what I will leave behind is much greater.

I will leave behind children, turned adults. Two men and a woman who are secure in themselves. Two men and a woman who will go on to love their children and spouses. Well-adjusted adults who may be lawyers, teachers, janitors, doctors, mothers, fathers, garbage collectors, or even president.

They are my legacy, and they will be all that matters in the end.