I celebrated my mother’s 64th birthday on April 10 this year. Looking at her that night during family dinner, my mind was transported back to the past when I was a kid and a teenager:
Before the ongoing, nasty backlashes regarding housewives/stay-at-home moms versus career moms on social media here, Ma had been through all the same criticisms regarding her (and thankfully Dad’s) choice to keep her then job while raising the three of us – my two siblings and me. I don’t have to specify who they are, because that’s not the point. They had problems with why she didn’t just become a stay-at-home mom instead and Dad was okay with that.
The criticisms worsened when my sister and I were teenagers. I was mostly the chubby, nerdy girl who often stayed home at the weekend – either reading books, watching my favourite TV shows, and writing stories. My sister was the complete opposite. She was always the more outgoing type, hanging out at the malls, having tons of friends and admirers, wearing make-up and dating...stuff normal teenage girls do. She cared about the latest trends and the hippiest spots in the city.
Ma was heavily criticised for letting the two of us go out a lot, especially at night. Befriending boys, hanging out with them while you were the only girl. Ma had told me what those people had said to her:
“Jeung, mbok ya anak perempuan jangan diumbar gitu. Keluar malam, pergi sama laki-laki. Ndak takut nanti ada ‘apa-apa’?” (Sis, don’t let your daughters display themselves like that. Going out at night, hanging out with boys. What if ‘something’ happens to them?)
I hated how they’d treated Ma, as if she was no good as a mother. I hated how they’d looked at my sister and me – well, my sister mostly, since she’d hung out a lot more – as if we’d been badly raised and it was all Ma’s fault. I didn’t tell anyone this back, then, not even Ma. I didn’t think anyone would listen or take me seriously. I bet they’d have dismissed me because I was just a kid to their eyes.
One of the many great things about Ma is that she chooses her battles wisely. I, on the other hand, still believe in speaking out and standing up for yourself when being looked down upon. Call this a generation gap or different personalities as you wish.
My old anger always flares up every time someone makes nasty comments about career moms, generalising them as these evil, overly ambitious, and money-hungry women who forget their (socially-constructed?) roles in the family. They are always accused of not caring about their own children so much. Just like those who had bullied Ma in the past, they wonder aloud if kids can still remember their mother’s face if she’s not home that much. One local public figure (I’d rather not name names) once tweeted about how children were more like staff members to their career mom, only seen and tended once in a while.
I know that Ma would tell me not to bother with these nosy, judgmental people. However, they remind me of those who had harshly judged her in the past. She’s right, but sorry...these narrow-minded mysogynists still have to know. Words have consequences. Their vile tongues can cut much deeper than any sharp blades anyone has ever made. Watch it. There are people who just don’t easily forget how you’ve made them feel.
Ma’s office-work days are over long ago, but I still remember all the hard work she’s done – and still does – as our mother. Thankfully, the traffic wasn’t as bad as it is these days. It’s true that she and Dad went to work all day since morning, but they still had time to drive the three of us to school first. (Our parents had worked in the same company while the three of us went to the same grade school.) They still taught us discipline. There weren’t any smartphones back then. If I forgot my homework or left my textbook home, Dad would say: “No way. I’m not driving you back there to fetch that. We’re gonna be late. It’s your fault.”
It’s true that the three of us had been tended by hired nannies as we grew up, while our parents were at work. It’s true that sometimes we had to wait for them after school at our grandparents’ house (Ma’s parents), having lunch and doing homework there. Once they finished work and picked us up, they still checked our homework and helped us with it. Ma still cooked for us at the weekend and stayed up at night when one of us was sick. She’d leave her office to pick us up at school when one of us got an accident or into trouble, like when my brother fell off the school steps and had to have his scalp stitched at hospital.
