I Hate Mother’s Day

Here we go again! Flowers ! Cards ! Chocolate ! Pink ! Pink ! Pink ! Yes it is Mother’s day!

Yet another commercial made-up holiday. This one is designed to make us spend money in order to demonstrate our love to our mothers. And we all have this ONE day to express our affection and gratitude ! Hurry !

It is always nice to receive a card, I suppose. In the early years of our children’s life, this card is bought by our dear hubbies from the local corner shop. And don’t they have a lot to be grateful for !

I’m not going to lie. I hate mother’s day. Not because there is no hubby in my life to buy me flowers and a card. I am a political lesbian. I have chosen not to have one of those around thank you very much.

No. I hate mother’s day because of the hypocrisy of the whole thing.

We all know motherhood is hard work, right?

Yet we are made to believe that flowers, card, chocolate, perfume and other useless items wrapped up in some tacky pink packaging are supposed to make up for 24/7 of unpaid and undervalued housework and endless childcare duties. Flowers erase the 1825 times we have changed nappies since last mother’s day; the sleepless nights; the toddler’s tantrums in the middle of the supermarket; the daily school run; the many baby illnesses; all those trips to the GP; the balanced meal cooked with love that baby is going to chuck on the floor; the hours spent in front of the sink washing the dishes. Day after day.

Mum has not been feeling too well since baby has arrived? It’s ok! Flowers make us forget our Post Natal Depression; better and cheaper than antidepressants! Flowers erase these long hours of loneliness and isolation; daily trips to the playground; hours gazing into space at baby-group; weeping uncontrollably in the street; the rage; the hopelessness; the guilt; the death-wishes.

Buy flowers and women will not notice how much society hates us as women, and as mothers. Hates us so much that they demand that we lose our pregnancy weight in just a few weeks.As if there is nothing more shameful than having given birth. Let’s get rid of the evidence as soon as possible.

Buy flowers and women magically forget about the discrimination we face at work; a promotion we didn’t get, it went to an incompetent guy; that time we got sacked for being pregnant; that time we didn’t get the job because we have a two year old at home so the recruiter decided we wouldn’t cope; those flexible working hours refused by your manager.  Just because.

Buy flowers and women will forget how poor we are and dependent on the men in our lives.

Buy her flowers and she may forget that the first and last time you agreed to “baby-sit” your own two year old for an hour was because she needed a trip to the dentist. Buy her flowers and she may not remember how you spend all your evenings at the pub, drinking your wage while she has to buy food for the family on the little savings she has left.

Buy flowers, gents, and your wife will forgive you for the emotional abuse you have been subjecting her to, the manipulation, the control. More flowers and she will forgive you for that time you threatened her. More flowers and she will say you are such a nice guy even though you’ve been beating her since she was pregnant.

Buy flowers and she will end up being grateful !

I hate Mothers Day because it is yet another world-wide patriarchal propaganda machine designed to bribe us into submission. Mother’s day successfully promotes compulsory motherhood, and emotionally blackmails women so that we keep on working for men for  free and in silence.

We all know motherhood is hard work.

But don’t we dare to dream of a world structured around our needs as women who have children? Don’t we dare to demand our rights to prevent discrimination against us? Don’t we dare to ask and get the support we actually need? Don’t we dare to demand free universal 24 hour childcare?

And don’t we dare to think that the man we live with, the one who claims to be in love with us, will take on that fight with us?


Instead, you’ll have a bunch of flowers (if you are lucky) and a pink card.

Come on! Have one!


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