Every year, around January 15th, the world rightfully celebrates the birth of the great Martin Luther King Jr. Yet, virtually no one has stopped to consider who else was in that room that day in 1929. As if somehow MLK Jr. birthed himself.
(Laughter)
I toured the location where he was born. A charming, quaint two-story home in Atlanta. And while it was an honor to even be there, I left feeling frustrated by the tour guide's script. Of course, MLK Jr. was the center of most of the tales, and then came stories about his father, the inspiring Reverend Martin Luther King Sr. But what frustrated me was the lack of attention being paid to his mother, Alberta Christine Williams King. Even though this was actually her childhood home first and the home where she'd later birth her children, in a room on the second floor.
This erasure doesn't only concern Alberta. Mothers in the US are often misrepresented or completely left out in the stories we tell. Mothers are used to being seen as selfless beings without needs for others to consider. They're used to feeling belittled if they stay at home with their children because the narrative says it's "unproductive." Or they might even hide the fact that they have children at work so that they're still taken seriously rather than seen as distracted. And they will not receive credit for the accomplishments of the loved ones they have supported day in and day out because our retelling of events doesn't feature the many acts of mothering.
Beyond such instances being frustrating, I believe they lead to a lack of understanding surrounding the critical roles mothers play in our society, and they contribute to a lack of support for mothers. If the stories we tell, both on an interpersonal level as well as in literature and in media, deem mothers as unimportant, as unworthy of being seen and considered, then these opinions will be reflected in the way that mothers are treated in our country.
It is not a surprise, then, that in the US we have yet to establish universal parental leave, a universal quality, affordable child care, that we are experiencing a maternal mortality crisis and that many mothers had no other choice but to leave the workforce as a result of the pandemic. Such tragedies have a ripple effect that also hurts our children, our communities, even our national economy.
As a writer and sociologist, I believe that storytelling plays a necessary role in fixing our current trajectory; that through the intentional centering of mothers, we can not only make life better for them, we can actually make life better for everyone. The way to get organizations and our government to give mothers the resources that they desperately need and deserve is to first shift our perspective of motherhood on a cultural level. I am on a mission for that shift to happen in my lifetime, especially for mothers of color who have historically received the least resources.
I have spent the last several years studying three women in particular, whose life stories show, number one, just how easily we disregard mothers, and number two, how a lack of consideration for their needs and their contributions leads to a lack of intervention and support. While it may be too late to help the three of them, I believe their life stories provide guidance on how we can make the world better for moms and everyone they impact today.
So let's first go back to Alberta King. Alberta was born in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1903, to the leaders of Ebenezer Baptist Church. Even as a young girl, she was an activist. She participated in marches and boycotts, and she even joined her parents as some of the very first members of the NAACP. She believed that Christian faith must always be intertwined with social justice, and she used her education to advance freedom causes. Alberta grew up to be a talented organizer and a musician, as well as a mother of three. Before meeting her husband, Alberta was on her path to becoming an educator. She earned a teaching certificate and a bachelor's degree. But because the law stated that married women could not teach, she was forced to walk away from a formal career. She still did everything she could to provide for, educate and protect her family and her community members. But that same care and shielding was not afforded to her in return. Her life was tragically taken when she was shot in the back as she played the church organ.
The second story begins in La Digue Grenada, at the very end of the 19th century. A little girl is influenced by her grandparents to always stand for Black pride and Black independence by any means necessary. At the young age of 17, she travels to Montreal, Canada, on her own, to spread the message of Black liberation. And she joins the Marcus Garvey pan-African movement. This is just a brief introduction to Louise Langdon Little, a multilingual scholar and activist who also brought eight children into the world, one of whom was named Malcolm Little originally. He later became known to the world as Malcolm X. When Louise's husband was murdered and she was widowed when she was only in her 30s, white welfare workers started showing up and entering her home, questioning the way that she was raising her children. A white male physician was sent to evaluate her, and he concluded that she was experiencing dementia, citing that she was "imagining being discriminated against."
(Audience murmurs)
As a result, she was institutionalized against her will for around 25 years. Each of her children were taken from her and they were placed into separate foster homes.
The final story starts in the small town of Deal Island, Maryland, in 1902. A little girl's life begins in tragedy when she loses her own mother. But through this moment of darkness, she becomes somebody fixated on light and on love. A talented writer, she uses her prose to inspire those around her to let go of their own pain and their hatred. As a teenager, she travels to New York in search of a new start, and she arrives in the middle of the Harlem Renaissance. This is just a brief introduction to Berdis Jones Baldwin, a mother of nine. Her first born was originally named James Arthur Jones. He later became known to the world as James Baldwin. At times, Berdis had no other choice but to leave her children at home to make money as a domestic worker. She was also the victim of an abusive husband for years. Without resources other than police officers, who were better known for harassing her community, she endured the pain on her own. When her husband passed, and she too was only in her thirties, she proudly raised her nine children as a single mother.
These stories are not a part of ancient history, nor should they be seen as separate of other mothers simply because their sons became famous. They are representative of mothers' experiences, especially Black mothers, who, to this day, are disrespected, denied paid leave, pushed out of their jobs, facing biases in health care systems, are victims of abuse, are mistreated and belittled, and who are being forgotten and erased. Would the world be different today, if we'd been telling their stories all along? I believe so. If the stories we told of mothers reflected their presence, their importance, their power, their influence, their wholeness and their humanity, then it would be easier for everyone to appreciate their roles and back them with the support that they deserve.
So let's act now. How about we stop thanking mothers for being selfless and putting their needs behind everyone else's?
(Applause)
And instead, we thank them for being our first leaders, caretakers and teachers. What if we asked how we could support them in return?
(Applause)
Yeah.
(Applause)
What if we celebrated stay-at-home moms as the essential members of our society that they are rather than belittling their role?
(Applause)
What if employers and colleagues recognize mothering as the ultimate test of multitasking, organization and empathy?
(Laughs)
(Applause)
And highlighted the importance of keeping mothers on their teams. And what if we produced more stories, books, TV shows, movies that represented mothers accurately? Could we convince more people of the need for parental leave, affordable child care, unbiased health care systems, maybe even a guaranteed income?
I think we can all agree. Mothers are essential. Mothers are powerful. Mothers have their own needs and their own identities. Mothers deserve support. It is time our stories and our policies reflect this. We can change the narrative. And when we do, the world will be a much better and equitable place for us all.
Thank you.
(Applause and cheers)
