Real Talk

Tonight, I’m tired... I’m tired of the laundry. I’m tired of "momming." I’m tired of having full responsibility of my children. I’m tired of making sure that everyone’s fed. I’m tired of making sure that everybody’s teeth have been brushed. I’m tired of making sure that everybody has lunch for tomorrow. I’m tired of politics. I’m tired of this pandemic. I’m tired of hurricanes in the gulf. I’m tired of my children falling and getting hurt. I’m tired of bath time. I’m tired of bedtime. I’m tired of reading stories. I’m tired of cleaning the house. I’m tired of watching what I eat. I’m tired of driving everywhere. I’m tired of carpool. I’m tired of waiting for the bus. I’m...

  It's 4:19 am. I didn't call my Grandmother yesterday. I need to set a reminder to do that or something because the only time that I remember is when I can't do it. I also didn't text my friend who is going through a divorce, a friend who I haven't spoken to in weeks, or a friend whose husband is going through some stuff. I meant to. I had good intentions but failed. Again. A quick scroll through Facebook reminds me of all of the people that I need to touch base with. I mentally add them to my long list of people I need to reach out to. I know I will only remember when I am taking a shower or driving. You...

  I volunteer. I do Pilates. I run. Generally speaking, I look like a fairly put together person. I have a decent job. I’m well-spoken. If we met at Java Mama, a BREC park, or an LSU watch party, you’d have no clue that I had been going home to a physically and emotionally abusive relationship for nearly two years. Through countless counseling sessions and conversations with friends and family, I got myself and my daughter out. Recently, on the Betrayal Trauma Recovery podcast, I heard a guest say “an isolated victim is a controlled victim.” I’ve now realized the severely awful times were the times I was isolating myself from others. I was kicked, choked, slapped, called a sl*t, etc....

Lately, I've found myself volunteering to mow our yard. Shortly after having our second daughter, the pandemic hit, and the voluntary quarantine we put in place for our newborn quickly became strongly encouraged by government officials. We weren't going anywhere anytime soon. I needed to get out of the house. So, escaping for an hour to take over a productive task like mowing seemed like one of my only options. I do enjoy it, but I still find myself looking through the window when I can to check on my husband and kids. I feel selfish for needing to get out, but I'm also frustrated that I feel obligated to be productive at all times. Is this self care? Stepping outside...

It might sound like Foucault, Obama, and postpartum have no connection, but they do. Hear me out. Foucault studies power dynamics and how certain social and political structures can dictate the lives of individuals. For example, isolating women and not allowing them time to heal and bond with their offspring by not having a proper paid maternity leave policy in place, accrues a weight that impacts every aspect of women’s lives. Aesthetic is important in this context because it can be used as an alienating tool. Images of women who just gave birth dieting and working out to “bounce back” are hammered into everyday narratives creating unrealistic expectations. Because of the path we’ve trailed this far, women were led to believe...