Happy Mother’s Day! No, thank you!

On Mother’s Day, I wished my wife a happy Mother's Day and gave her some beautiful flowers and a Mother’s Day card. I would normally include a box of See's candy, but she told me to stop buying her candy. Of course, being the poet that I am, I had written a poem, and in the poem, I included many adjectives to describe her, like rock, pillar, foundation, etc. — all the virtues that mothers represent to families and society as a whole.

Well, that day, I broke the tradition and didn’t provide her a poem. Upon wishing her a Happy Mother’s Day, she said the following:

“Happy Mother’s Day! No, thank you! I don’t want to be a character on this Mother’s Day. I am tired of all the adjective adulations that describe mothers as everything we do not want to be”.

Ruby provided me with the following characterizations of motherhood that I and other poets would use in our poems in describing motherhood, and I, of course, being the poet I am, expanded upon them to provide this essay that I am providing you today.

In reflecting on her astute observations of motherhood, and her critique of the characterizations of motherhood by those who would dare to extol the virtues of it, I see her differently this year. As a woman 62 years of age, and mother who has raised four daughters and has four grandchildren , she has paid the dues, gained the experience, and understands the challenges of motherhood like no man could ever understand. Many mothers would absolutely relate to her critique of motherhood and the characterizations of mothers. I see Ruby more clearly today than ever after 42 years of marriage she has. emerge as a thought leader on the subject of motherhood and is a bona fide expert in what it means to be a mother so I salute her on this Mother’s Day of 2024 as the best mother that I have ever known.

So here’s what she said to me on Mother’s Day, and of course, with poetic license provided by me:

I don’t want to be your Superwoman, more potent than the average man, faster than a speeding bullet, able to fight injustice and protect the family or the world.

I don't want to be your pillar, holding up the house. Who wants to hold up a household, especially on their own? What happens when the pillar cracks? Does it all start coming down? What then? Who else can hold the house together? Why does it have to be me?

I don’t want to be your rock. All rocks are in the ground and belong there. Throw a rock in the pool, and it will sink to the bottom. People walk on rocks. People throw rocks. People use rocks; some even have rocks for pets. A rock has no other utility or function but just to be used as a rock. I don’t want to be your rock.

I don’t want to be your foundation. Oh my God! What is it with these adjectives? I am not your dirt. I am not used to build upon everything you see only to be hidden because I am under it. I am not responsible for your existence and don’t want to be. I am not your foundation. Let God be your foundation.

I don’t want to be your glue. Glue? Do you know what glue is? That is not me. What woman wants to be a sticky substance used for sticking things together? If I’m the glue holding this family together, then what are you? Because once you put glue on something, it typically makes a permanent bond and nothing else is needed. If you must use these symbols for motherhood, then we are the glue together, or we are nothing at all.

I don’t want to be your anchor. Seriously! I am the anchor? Wow! Just throw me over the boat, cast me down to the bottom of the ocean so I can keep the boat still. That’s what I am? You’re crazy. I am not an anchor. I am not trying to hold this boat in one place. The ocean of life is raging, and the winds of circumstances are blowing, and I am the one who is going to keep our lifeboat in place. I am not the anchor. I am the boat. You are the anchor.

You men have unreasonable expectations, and your characterizations of women are drawn from an ideology built on an anthropomorphic society where men are kings and women are servants whose only role is to serve.

If you’re going to use a house or a boat or any such thing to describe me, particularly your house, then let me tell you what I want to be.

I want to be a window. Why? Because everybody wants a window seat. The window has a view of the world. The window provides light to the house. The window provides the air that we breathe and the sunlight that radiates our spaces and brings life to us all.

That’s what I want to be: a window. But that’s not all.

Why is Mother’s Day one day? I want it to be a month, like Black History Month. Or at least a week, like Teacher’s Week. I mean, seriously, we bring life into the world. There’s not a single living being on the planet that does not have a mother. Without mothers, there is no life on this planet unless they were created directly by God himself. Even still, God created Adam and Eve, and Eve wasn’t even a mother until she had Cain and Abel. So even God needed a woman to create life here on earth after he created Adam. So why is it that we only have one day and not a week or a month? We celebrate everything yet only give mothers one day.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_month-long_observances

So no thank you. I don’t want to be a character in your poem or your story. I don’t even really want to be a window. I just want to be me. A mother, cherished and respected, loved by my family of four incredible daughters and four grandchildren, and married to an almost perfect husband, all of whom I am very proud of.

So happy Mother’s Day to me.”

Ruby Lee Frazier

There you have it, folks. So if you’re writing poetry out there about your mother, you are now officially on notice.

Eric Lawrence Frazier

Poet