Plants are awful
It’s my mother’s birthday, and she’s super badass.
And she makes me think a lot about the whole “little boys need a male role model in their lives” ideology that people drum up whenever there’s conversations about family as though little boys only have anything to learn from men, and little girls from women. There’s a certain maligning of respect for mothers, in my case from sons encountering the “mama’s boy” thing. How dare we respect our own mothers’ agency and authority. Being sons and asserting that our own mothers are worthy of respect and admiration is such a flagrant cardinal sin in the eyes of the patriarchy that our belief and experience of their hero-hood is challenged at pretty much every stage of our lives.
That whole social experience is about the survival of cissexism and misogyny, and an expectation that the emulation of gendered roles is the only proper means by which we honor our mothers and fathers as daughters and sons (and only daughters and sons because evidently there’s only two gendered ways to be a proceeding generation), respectively and only respectively, is such an insidious way to way perpetuate the devaluation of women starting with our own families. My mother is her son’s hero. I want to be like her because she’s an amazing-ass person.