Not the first: a belated Mother's Day post

My mother recently accused me, and my contemporaries, of thinking or talking as though we were the first generation of feminists trying to raise anti-sexist boys.

I don't know where she got that impression, but it's certainly not one I ever meant to give. I am aware and more than aware, I am indebted to the generations that came before me, doing their part to raise their sons as well as daughters as free from patriarchy's grasp as possible. Without them, my job would be that much harder. Without them, I wouldn't have a male partner to share this trial with (without them, no men would be able to be true partners, having been overly damaged by patriarchy). Without them, the road ahead would be that much steeper, and dirtier, and darker.

My mother, for all that she at times has been known to say "I'm really more of a humanist", did a pretty good job of raising a feminist boy. One of my favorite stories is that, he being a first child but with the anticipation he not be an only, my brother's wardrobe for his first three years consisted of an equal mix of "boy" clothes and "girl"clothes, with the rationale that all the clothes would get handed down (to a girl, my mother hoped), and the next child shouldn't be the only one wearing the "wrong" gendered clothes.

Her relationship, though hardly ideal, was remarkably equitable for her generation. Although my father hardly did his share of housework, and all the executive daily management of the family was hers alone, he more often than not was the one to take me to school, to stay home if I was sick, and his only reaction to her practice flourishing and her eventually earning more than he was pride and relief.

And it worked: my brother, privileged straight white male that he is, openly identified as a feminist, at least while in college. And I, of course, am hard at work raising her grandson feminist.

So I am quite aware of the debt owed to the feminists who came before, imperfect as they were. They did pretty good, considering. Their relationships were pretty equitable, considering. Now, of course, we can sit back and say "but we've hardly progressed at all! there's still so much to do!" We can pick, and point, and critique, and criticize -- and to be sure, there is an abundance to criticize in the generation of Steinem-inspired feminists raising boys in the 70s -- but ultimately, they made progress, and there is so much we have learned from their efforts, from both their successes and their failures.

My hope is that the next generation can say the same about us, that our progress is such that they can look back and say "well, those old broads did pretty well, considering", that they take what we struggle for almost for granted, and that they look around and set their shoulders to all the work that will still be left to do. Let them, as I do, see the progress the previous generation made, and let them think it not yet enough.

To my mother and all her sisters: thank you. Happy Mother's Day.