Our founder Nikita has spent the last two years juggling her new identity as a first-time parent and twin-Mom with the demands of running a niche business. In this piece, she ruminates on millennial motherhood, her thoughts disguised as a list of films to read and books to watch out for.
It's easy to see why our desire for procreation is only reaffirmed by the arrival of a newborn baby; how can you not coo over that soft, tiny, wrinkled creature who represents the best of humanity? Born as amphibians who must now take on the daunting task of evolving into a different species, babies are magical beings, with an innate intelligence and resilience, untainted as yet by the collective sociological imagination. They are the chosen ones, pure, sacrosanct and wholly deserving of the best that Hogwarts has to offer.
Mothers then, are the Hagrids of the world. Moody in mind and appearance, loved by children but disdained and a tad bit feared by adults (particularly men), outcasts amongst their more ‘esteemed’ peers for having to perform manual labor as part of their ‘syllabus.’ Misunderstood misfits (except in the company of other Hagrids) with hearts of gold, they are mostly left to themselves, tending to the unique needs of the wildlings in their care.
I had the privilege of becoming Hagrid the Hormonal to not one but two little magical beings at the same time. Here are my thoughts on motherhood, disguised as a list of films and books which reflect my new reality as a twin mom, and have helped me make sense of it all, safeguarding my sanity across the last two years of this incredible experience.
They aren’t recommendations as such because everyone’s motherhood journey presents unique challenges and emotions. So please watch / read only as much as your gut permits during the specific stage of your journey!
1. The Let Down by Allison Bell and Sarah Scheller
This Australian mini series comes as close to the real deal as it gets! Screenwriter Sarah Scheller and Actress Alison Bell fling you headfirst into the confusing, kaleidoscopic world of new motherhood, which can often feel like you trying to cross the Atlantic in a dinky little dinghy being steered by a blind captain, only to encounter a deep sea storm with no life jackets on board. For real.
Whether you used sound machines, long drives, Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein or sleep trained your child, whether you stuck with breastfeeding or wallowed in (unnecessary) guilt for using a bottle, used formula or not, whether your partner was involved or off on a never ending work trip, and what owning a postpartum body actually feels and not looks like; from weeding through new age parenting advice on Instagram reels, while wondering when the #stayathomemom hashtag became a badge of honor, as you watch your ‘promising’ career sail past you into a glorious Mediterranean sunset. This show serves it all up - clear eyed, without an ounce of judgment and most importantly with a side of witty, unapologetic humor - what more could you ask for after 846*!41*$890 hours of no sleep…
2. Swallow by Carlo Mirabella-Davis
Before you are swamped by the sweet sights, scents and sounds of new life, high on happiness and hormones, there is the question of the body; the biologically engineered vessel you happen to inhabit that is miraculously capable of creating life without needing any direction from you. So long as you don’t actively sabotage its affairs. In this harrowing portrayal of a woman taking her physical autonomy into her own hands, we watch Hunter, pregnant but stuck in a loveless marriage, give in to a curious new impulse - to consume dangerous inanimate objects - while knowingly running obvious risks for her unborn child.
As fascinating as it is to watch your seemingly subservient body of 30 odd years suddenly start making its own decisions, the physical transformation has many uncomfortable implications for its owner. The fear of the body clock, the sacrifice of your independence, the changes in your appearance and image, and having your heart be forever split in two (or three) is a lot to grapple with. And although real life is much more complicated than Swallow’s neatly knotted solution, the film spoke to me - with its cold, intensely artificial visual language, at a time when just asking my restless mind these questions seemed impossible, wrong. Well, it’s not. It is every woman’s birthright, and shouldn’t require the emergency pumping of a semi-digested battery from your stomach to be voiced.
3. Juno by Jason Reitman
A couple months after my delivery, a friend calling to congratulate me asked - “So what’s it like to become a real adult?” I had spent the morning mooing and baaing and barking and squawking, a barn full of animals on steroids; essential battle armor if you’re diapering and changing two perpetually unwilling babies multiple times a day. But not exactly adult behavior. The truth is - no matter how prepared you think you are for motherhood, that wide eyed, clueless teenage girl buried deep inside you will emerge at some point. And if you’re lucky she’ll arrive at that crucial moment when you’re expected to be your most adult self.
She may also just never leave. Not a bad thing if you can harness just a tiny bit of Juno for your resurrected teen self. Juno’s nonplussed acceptance of circumstances beyond her control, her cool shedding of shame for putting herself first. Throw in her fantastic sense of humour, and I suspect it may still be possible to raise a child while you’re trying to raise yourself in an unforgiving world of adults.
4. Maid by Molly Smith Metzler
The thing I was completely blindsided by when the babies arrived was the sheer manual labor of motherhood; that daily, at times dreary, always exhausting physical effort of actually producing the two little bundles of joy I had spent countless happy hours conceptualising into tangible, huggable human beings.
In the Netflix miniseries Maid, single mother Alex manages to escape an emotionally abusive relationship whose trauma is not taken seriously because of its lack of physical evidence. She secures a job cleaning houses with Value Maids and the series follows her struggles and wins in a system pitted against single women trying to make it on their own; mothers in particular. In addition to Margaret Qualley’s incredible performance, the overwhelming sensation that stays with you is the tenderness she infuses into the hardship. Certainly the daily exertions of motherhood are far more rewarding than those involved in cleaning another adult’s toilet, but the empathy that Alex’s character brings to both roles is astounding.
Qualley brings delicate, naive Alex to life with a barely visible tenacity that totally defies her helpless appeal. It’s not that Alex is picture perfect - she makes mistakes, at work and as a mother; scary, expensive mistakes - but watching her step out of her cocoon and learn to trust her instincts (which we’re taught to suppress so that we can be the good girls society ‘needs’ more of) only to realise that it's these very instincts that will now carry her through, and finally, watching her protect them from the world’s cynical eyes, might just be that extra motivation you need to get out of your 3 day old clothes and take a shower.
5. Roma by Alfonso Cuaron
Inspired by Alfonso Cuaron’s own childhood in 1970’s Mexico City, Roma is simply sublime; its vast, expansive frames a balm for fraught nerves of all kinds, bountifully active in the postpartum mind. In Roma, we meet Cleo, an indigenous Mexican maid to an upper-middle class household with four children - Pepe, Sofi, Toño, and Paco - the mother, Sofia, and the perpetually away-on-business father, Antonio.
While Sofia suspects her husband’s fidelity, Cleo suspects she might be pregnant. It is within these two stories, divided by culture, class and privilege, that the film locates its elegant exploration of sisterhood in motherhood. The respectful way in which Cuaron depicts the interactions between Sofia and Cleo, giving each character the screen time and personal space needed for their relationship to evolve beyond its capitalist framework is a vindication of the communal notion of ‘shared motherhood’ and its capacity to overcome systemic inequalities; a breath of fresh air at a time when you’re probably hearing that somewhat exasperating maxime “it takes a village to raise a child” a little too often. Because, let’s be real - for a new mom trying to 'make it' in our disconnected, performative society, does this village even exist?
Unsuspectingly, the film becomes exactly the sort of bittersweet, wholesome respite you need; not too self-indulgent or blindly validating, but a ruminatory reality check, like a warm hug from your grandmother as she gently, lovingly and very firmly says ‘no’ to another fistful of Cadbury eclairs for your bawling seven year old self..
6. Blue Valentine by Derek Cianfrance
One afternoon, in the midst of an unexpected downpour, my husband and I gave a fellow parent and his daughter a lift home from daycare. He sheepishly explained that although he lived in the next lane, he hadn’t brought an umbrella and didn’t want to disturb his wife who was napping at home with their newborn twins. “Difficult time!” I exclaimed as memories of that intense period flashed before my eyes. He chuckled and said, “yea, but it’s ok.” “Tough for your wife though,” I persisted. After a couple seconds of reflection, he replied, “for nuclear families, all of it is tough.” It struck a chord. Urban living, or rather, migrant living, by its very nature requires new parents to woo and gather and very often pay our way into this modern day “village,” a community whose membership is not something one can rely on, but must earn.
Blue Valentine tells the story of Cindy and Dean, a married couple on the brink of breaking up, living with their young daughter Frankie in a tight economic situation without much community or systemic support. As the film flits between past and present, you see that once upon a time, they were hopelessly in love, having fallen for each other at first sight. The tender depiction of their courtship and the chemistry between Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling is so pure, you don’t expect anything but a happily ever after. But parenthood has a way of testing even the make believe.
Having to be compassionate to a newborn nearly 20 hours a day, every single day, makes it really difficult to hold those feelings for your fully grown adult partner as well. The physical exhaustion, the emotional insecurity, the resentment attached to the imbalanced responsibilities once a baby arrives (no matter how well intentioned your partner may be); Blue Valentine is a soul crushing portrayal of the hardships of this transition - a couple’s worst case scenario.
Cindy and Dean however, are immortal. Until the end, they remain incredibly potent characters because although their love has dwindled to a pinpoint, the affection they once felt is heartbreakingly visible beneath all the fighting. And so despite having just watched their love curdle into a toxic, sticky slime, as the credits rolled, I found myself sighing “if only,” just so they could have stayed together, so their little family could have had a chance, so the people they were when they fell in love could have endured.
And yet, the practical part of my brain emerged victorious, simply grateful to have a partner who pulls above his weight in our parenting journey together; one who is steadfastly accepting as our definitions of ourselves, each other and our relationship have changed during this whirlwind period, despite the nuclear living and wailing babies.
7. Lamb by Valdimar Johannsson
Indian mothers have earned the reputation of being obsessed with feeding their children; “khana khaya kya?” being the overwhelming sentiment that consumes most desi households with kids. It is only after becoming a mother myself that I have understood where this obsession comes from. Over time, we women (and society at large) tend to forget that first phase of a newborn’s life where a mother’s body isn’t busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, but rather is the kitchen and the meal; breakfast, lunch and dinner and all the snacks, bites and sips in between.
And more often than not, the insecurity and shame that is a truly unfortunate association with the breastfeeding experience, becomes embedded so deep it's as if a genetic rewiring has taken place in a mother’s body to house the fear and keep it tucked away in a corner of the attic forever. I can safely say that checking the twins’ tiffins post daycare is a habit that isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.
Are we good mothers? Can we keep our children safe? Can we protect them from calamities - those intentionally inflicted by society, by nature or even by something more sinister? Living as a mom is making peace with such questions haunting you for life.
The bizarre, brilliant Icelandic film Lamb by Valdimar Johannsson strikes at the heart of many such child rearing worries and debates, tying them into explorations of parental authorship of their children’s fate, grief and guilt, the raw power of nature and the supremacy of biology. In it, a farmer couple living in far flung rural Iceland receive a second chance at raising a child when a mysterious new creature is birthed in their barn. The film is also a meditative study on ideas of possession in the context of parent-child relationships and the violent beginnings of new life, the opening scene of the film a quietly unexpected, alarming and enigmatic tryst with this last theme. Though not quite “horror” in the mainstream sense of the genre, Lamb is not for the faint hearted, with its mysteries unraveling slowly in a peekaboo styled visual language, where you spend every moment immersed in the mundane, yet craning your neck over each frame wondering what to expect next - much like the first year or two of motherhood!
8. Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder
Rachel Yoder’s words are as weird as they are relatable and as terrifying as they are validating. This page turning book (soon to be a motion picture!) has finally given me a fitting word to describe an emotion that literally consumed me during those first few postpartum months - an emotion I was so ashamed of feeling, that until I read her sentences on the page, I had refused to acknowledge it, even to myself.
MOTHER-RAGE. Because how can you not be pissed after becoming a mother?
Yoder tells the story of how the unnamed protagonist - an artist and new mother - slowly but surely turns into ‘Nightbitch,’ a howling prowling, unconditionally loving dog-mother; a woman for whom the only way to tap into her maternal instincts, trapped and buried deep beneath generations of patriarchal conditioning and societal expectations, is by giving in to her ‘primitive’ canine self; that is by turning into a dog. A bitch to be precise.
There is very little place in our society for celebrating an ambitious woman who chooses motherhood. Why would we? It’s her own doing after all, how dare she, to try and Have. It. All. On the other hand, an ambitious man giving up his career or choosing to go part time, doing nights and bath-time or even just holding the baby without looking terrified, warrants shocked compliments, applause, a spree of photos and sometimes even tears, with word of this precious ‘hands on’ father spreading like wildfire throughout the extended family.
Yoder addresses the gross inequalities of our gendered expectations with wry, dry and biting prose. In a society that puts motherhood on a pedestal, primarily to avoid dealing with its toll on the mother, Nightbitch catalogs the vast, uncharted emotional and mental distance working mothers must travel to be able to sustain their choices. It points out the hypocrisy that millennial mothers have been sold all our lives; that if we only get good college educations and jobs, compete mano-a-mano with the men in our class, we can escape the trappings of modern misogyny.
However, instead of villainising the associated emotions, the book harnesses the anger, the self-doubt and the isolation to create a wildly sparkling, wholly relatable anti-hero mother; one who leaves her house and son a mess, who did not sleep train the baby and now regrets it, who has a rich internal life and thinks she is a notch above the other ‘motherly’ moms and for whom having a child is just not purpose enough, because she misses her work, having adult conversation, and simply living the life she had before.
So sue her.
Коментарі