Mother’s Day

Mothering Sunday. Shortly after international women’s day. Does it go without saying that I long for the day when we don’t need a special day to remind us that women are amazing? Because, and this is hard for some feminists to swallow, some women aren’t amazing. Some are shit, shallow and shocking. But because as a society we have spent so many years dragging the x chromosome through the mud, we feel it necessary to take a day to put all women on a pedestal and cheer ‘I am Woman, hear me (logically state my viewpoint, vote and get equal pay) roar.’

It is necessary. Because we are not confident yet. We have not succeeded yet. There are still people across all aspects of human society who fail to see that gender differences are simply that: differences. Not weaknesses. Not liabilities. Not problems. Just differences. Differences we used to celebrate in ancient times. The mother was always sacred. So what is sacred today? Do you have to be a mother to be a celebrated woman?

Not of a child. I have a beautiful child. I love him, endlessly. But every woman has something they love. Every person has something they love. Can you truly be a person if you don’t? I doubt it. What I have no doubt about is that today, on mothering Sunday, you can celebrate anyone around you who has changed the world in some way, for someone, at some point. Every positive change in the world is a tiny miracle. Mothers may be miracle workers. But they are not the only ones. Yes, we need to celebrate our mothers. And one day we may do this without prompting. Today I am happy to be honoured by my family, and I will honour mine. I will also honour everyone who, step by step, breath by word, makes the world a happier place.

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