Opting out of the Mommy Wars

I was away for a week, but it’s still taken me some time to put together my own response to the 01/30/05 New York Times piece on mommy blogging, “Mommy (and Me) by David Hochman.

Many of the responses to Hochman’s piece have been angry and defensive. They see his piece as the latest attack in the mommy wars. I used to consider myself a mommy blogger; I even wrote here and here against those who would write against them. I didn’t find Hochman’s piece to be an attack on mommy blogs, though. There was critique, but I also found empathy, e.g.,

Daniel J. Siegel, a psychiatrist on the faculty of the Center for Culture, Brain and Development at the University of California, Los Angeles, and co-author of “Parenting From the Inside Out,” said that what is being expressed in these Web sites “is the deep, evolutionarily acquired desire to rise above invisibility, something parents experience all the time.” He explained, “You want to be seen not just by the baby whose diaper you’re changing, but by the world.”

and

But perhaps all the online venting and hand-wringing is actually helping the bloggers become better parents and better human beings. Perhaps what these diaries provide is “a way of establishing an alternate identity that makes parenting more palatable,” said Meredith W. Michaels, a philosophy professor at Smith College and the co-author of “The Mommy Myth: The Idealization of Motherhood and How It Has Undermined All Women.” “You’re turning your life into a story that helps answer the question, ‘Why on earth am I doing this?’ ”

Yet many of the responses to the piece, some written by the bloggers quoted in it, were unhappy with it, and disagreed with statements like

Today’s parents - older, more established and socialized to voicing their emotions - may be uniquely equipped to document their children’s’ lives, but what they seem most likely to complain and marvel about is their own. The baby blog in many cases is an online shrine to parental self-absorption.

I found that Hochman’s piece contained both empathy and criticism and I appreciated both. Yet the responses relayed mostly a perception of criticism:

Andrea Buchanan of Mother Shock grumbles here that her book but not her blog was named, and disagrees that parental blogging is anything “remarkable.”

Alice Bradley of Finslippy calls it “faintly damning” here.

Melissa Summers of Suburban Bliss says here that it’s “vaguely insulting.”

Ayelet Waldman of Bad-Mother gripes here that she was only quoted on the second page. Read down to a comment by “metacara” that is critical of Waldman’s comments in the article.

Heather Armstrong of Dooce notes here that

I had a hard time containing my glee � not because I and some of my fellow women writers were made out to be selfish, resentful, overreacting pigs in search of validation; funny that none of us were informed that the article would run with that notion when we were interviewed � but that my child�s green eyes were staring at me from the pages of a national paper.

T.O. Mama of MUBAR writes here what most other mommy bloggers say is the best and most balanced response to Hochman’s piece. She says “the article was not troubling itself but it raised some tricky issues.” Yet what’s interesting is the string of comments that follows her post, most of which criticise the NYT piece, and don’t acknowledge it as complicated.

Jen Weiner (pronounced WHY-ner, not WEEner, FYI) of Snarkspot clarifies, with her tongue firmly in cheek, here that her blog “isn’t just an ‘online shrine to parental self-absorbtion.’ It’s an online shrine to authorial self-absorbtion, too!”

I think Weiner’s comment is interesting, because she acknowledges on her blog, as she did in her quote in the NYT piece, that the parent blogs are self-involved. Her breezy tone, though, refuses to let this stick as a judgment. She goes a step further to say that her blog (a journal/diary type of blog) was self-involved before her daughter arrived, and has remained self-involved beyond her daughter since she became a mother. Weiner’s quote implies, correctly, I think, that many blogs are self-involved. And it’s that point that T.O. Mama took issue with from the NYT piece. Not that mommy blogs were being questioned, but that they were being questioned while other blogs weren’t; why are moms singled out for special attention and criticism?

Perhaps the most prevalent gripe about mommy blogs is that many are poorly written. True, but there are a lot of poorly written blogs out there, mommy or not. And while some are poorly written, others are both well written and funny.

So what’s the harm, then, if they’re well written and funny? They can be entertaining, and, as noted in Hochman’s article, they can also help struggling parents out of isolation.

One harm is noted by Hochman, who wonders about what the child in the future will think, “But the question is, at whose expense? How will the bloggee feel, say, 16 years from now, when her prom date Googles her entire existence?”

Hochman further quotes blogger Ayelet Waldman, “Fundamentally children resent being placed at the heart of their parents’ expression, and yet I still do it.”

Additionally, much of the content of mommy blogs is venting. Venting, in short spurts, can be a good thing. It releases pressure so that a system can function in equilibrium. But venting as a matter of everyday practice isn’t healthy, for either the ventor or the ventee. It devolves into bitching. Griping. A lowest common denominator of discourse.

The author of the weblog Mental Multivitamin noted the harm of such venting in an email she wrote in the wake of the NYT piece that she quotes here:

…if, in fact, weblogs are a historical record of the everyday (as the NYT suggests), [then] angst-soaked entries about the flu or potty training or whatever will be prevailing message of our time — not, for example, the pursuit of a rich interior life via reading, thinking, learning; that child- and spouse-bashing, however cleverly written, will represent the common experience of the ordinary mother, not celebration, wonder, merriment….

For more on parenting and mommy blogs by Mental Multivitamin, see her response to the Hochman article here. Interestingly, she also focused on the criticism rather than the empathy in his piece; unlike the other writers I’ve noted, she applauded his critique.

I have a further concern, though. Even if books and blogs contain both “angst-soaked entries” as well as “celebration, wonder and merriment”, then I believe that the former is what leaves a more lasting impression; I don’t believe a reader gets a balance of both. When writers detail the drudgery and the joy, the drudgery gets more print. It’s more concrete, it’s more physical, while the moments of joy and wonder are more fleeting and often emotional. The response to Hochman’s piece mirrored the difficult, if not impossible task, of creating a balanced portrayal that includes both difficulty and joy. His piece contained both, yet the negative got the most attention.

I wrote on one of my previous sites, Mama Duck, here, about how telling the truth about the difficulties had been a trend in recent motherhood books that I found myself unwittingly repeating in my mommy blog. I vowed to try harder. That was last June. Even with that awareness, I still feel like I failed to overcome the focus on the mundane that Mental Multivitamin decries.

In the 1950’s, we had a June Cleaver portrayal of motherhood as noble and tidy. Then there was the antithesis of telling it like it is, starting in the mid 1990’s, perhaps most notably with Ann Lamott’s memoir Operating Instructions. Now that antithesis is reaching a fever pitch with the mommy blogs. Again, we have a backlash, the unfair criticism that T.O. Mama questions. The backlash means that the antithesis of the truth-telling is no-better than the fog filters of yesteryear. I take this as a challenge to move toward a synthesis: something that celebrates the joys, tells the truth about the pain, but doesn’t dwell so much on the latter than the former is effaced.

Like many others, I was blogging before I became a mom. I blogged about pregnancy, birth and motherhood because I was so gobsmacked by the experiences. I felt unprepared and very alone. What the New York Times piece and what the multitude of responses to it have done, though, is to make it very clear that while I felt alone, I never was. There is an ever-growing number of books and blogs that proves that many women (and men) are surprised and frustrated by the challenges of parenthood. The point I have reached, then, is that there is no need to add my voice to the crowd. I no longer care to participate in the “motherhood is hard” discussion. This is not just true of writing, it’s also true of reading. What I write is inextricably tied to what I read. Reading and writing about the tough stuff just encourages me to focus on the difficulties, instead of keeping my eyes open for the moments of joy and surprise.

I became a parent because I wanted to learn. What I want to write about is that learning process, both in being a parent and in general. I will still write from personal experience, which includes motherhood. But I’m going to write in a way that emphasizes the learning and the joys. I’m not going to pretend that the tough stuff doesn’t exist. But I think I’m going to share that privately, rather than with all and sundry online.

5 Responses to “Opting out of the Mommy Wars”

  1. emily Says:

    Interesting. I can understand why this (I assume it was this piece) caused you writer’s block. A couple of reaction. First, though, you might want to go and check out chez miscarriage today. Grrl is blogging about trends in what we say about mothers, and it’s quite complementary to your points here.

    Second, I can understand your aim to not write about the hard stuff. And I’ve found myself sometimes reading your blog and wondering what you are enjoying about drake, because it always seems so hard. Yet I can also see that the ability to vent - not to a husband who is presumably also feeling the strain, and not to the child who won’t understand - can be an incredibly important outlet. Perhaps you can cope without that outlet, and I can see that you are not damning those who cannot. I wonder if you will miss the option to connect with others who are going through the same thing as you. The sense of community I see on the infertility blogs in particular is incredible and seems to be a real source of strength to those involved. It has certainly helped me put in perspective the difficulties I have been having. And I’ve been impressed with Tertia’s writing recently about how incredibly hard it is to deal with her twins, despite how long and hard the journey to having them was. She balances this need to ask for help, to tell it like it is, with the knowledge that having these babies in her life has changed her life for the better.

    It seems there is one big reason for you trying to stop writing about the bad stuff - that you want to take more pleasure in the joy, which I can understand. There’s another reason that has occured to me, which fits with the NYT point about someone googling your child’s existance when they get to 16 or whatever. Leta’s life is (sort of) public. That’s quite a big step to take for your child. Now I don’t want heather to stop writing or sharing the photos of Leta, but I can see that at some point Leta may object. And for me, I’m not sure I want my life to be that public - for people I know in real life to know my inner monologue.

    The more I read blogs, therefore, the more I think that what grrl has done works well. She doesn’t give any details of her life, never talks about which state she’s from, what she does for a living, etc., yet she blogs about the good times and the bad times and gets the connection and the venting without the invasion of privacy. She’s helped so many people by sharing what has happened to her, and presumably this helps her too.

    Anyway, this has veered from the point of your article, so I will stop. I will look forward to hearing more of the good stuff, and hope that when you need to - because it makes your life better now and in that moment that may be more important than what people will look back on in 10 years time - you’ll share the bad stuff too.

  2. Peach Says:

    I’ve read your blog for a while now, as well as other infertility blogs and mommy blogs, and I guess I have to disagree with you that the negative gets more attention and is remembered more. To call on the blogs Emily mentioned, with Grrl at Chez Miscarriage, yes, the bad stuff does get a lot of airtime, but when the good stuff comes along, I think it *does* transcend the bad because it had to overcome such terrible circumstances. And when I think back on what she had to go through, the good seems even better and I think I remember that more *because* of all the bad that she had to go through. And the same goes with Heather at dooce.com. Yes, she’s talked a lot about the bad, but then, Leta started crawling, and everyone who reads knows that she was afraid that would take a long time. Yes, she played it off as funny and scary because now there’s more to watch out for, but I don’t think readers can help *but* be so excited and overjoyed for Heather and Leta to reach that point.

    I guess it might just be a perspective issue, but I really do think the negative helps to enhance the posiive and that’s why I remember both, but focus more on the positive because the negative made it all the more special.

  3. Girl Detective Says:

    A couple points from both of your insightful posts. Yes, this was the post that was causing me writers block for the past week and a half. As I said at the end of my post, I am not going to pretend that the hard stuff doesn’t exist, I just don’t want to write or read about it anymore. I have joined a moms group in my neighborhood and am taking a childhood education class. I am working hard to stay in touch with my friends who have children. It is with these people that I want to discuss, question, vent then move on. The problem with venting in writing (my own, certainly) is that I have a tendency NOT to move on. I’ve also found that it helps not only to have other parents in similar situations, but to talk to parents about 5 to 10 years ahead to get better perspective.

    Also, I think it would help to clarify what I mean by the bad or negative stuff. I think there’s a giant list of parent things that are difficult and that get written about endlessly (and have been, by me): dirty diapers, sleep troubles, frustration because one’s child isn’t hitting a milestone, lack of sleep, teething, crying, etc. I don’t think we need more writing devoted to this stuff. I don’t write about doing the dishes, or my laundry and in some ways I think these are similar. To paraphrase Denis Leary: “Parenthood’s a bitch; get a helmet.” This from the show he was performing over ten years ago, while his wife was hospitalized in a different country and then gave birth to their son who weighed about 2 pounds. (Read Ann Leary’s An Innocent Abroad for more details on this.)

    I’m not a reader of Chez Miscarriage, but from Emily’s description, it sounds as if she has a very good balance of things, and I will check it out. Dooce is one of the sites I choose not to read anymore. Yes, she has both good and bad. I think her letters to Leta are lovely, and I appreciate that she shared her struggle with post partum depression. But I’ve got my own child here to look after, and I don’t find that reading Dooce brings anything new to my life. She’s not writing about what she’s reading, or learning. She’s funny, but I want more than that. The litmus test I’m using, both for my own writing and for what I read, is whether there’s a compelling reason to make the private public–a distinction brought to my attention by the writer of Mental Multivitamin.

  4. Darice Says:

    I just found you a few days ago, while trawling through various sites, and this entry intrigued me. I’m especially interested in blogs of mothers who… write, paint, think, read, discuss, you name it. It’s easy enough to get lost in motherhood, in the day-to-day details — as much as I adore my daughter, I’m not solely defined by my relationship to her, and I want to read (and write about) more than just that!

  5. Girl Detective Says:

    Welcome, Darice, and I’m glad you found me using those search criteria. I hope you enjoy what you read here.