Learning through Motherhood

During my first pregnancy, I spent a lot of time downloading various apps that would provide me with weekly What-to-Know articles about the growth rate and biological changes taking place.

Then there were books other parents swore by; books and articles that approached non-traditional parenting in a way that created a new community of caregivers, striving to break cycles and heal trauma. That tiny positive pregnancy test was so much more than a 9-month waiting period for parenting to start; It guided my journey to learn as a mother.

As parents, we are so focused on teaching our children age- and developmentally-appropriate skills that we sometimes forget how to continue to learn from the world. As an Indigenous mother, certain core values have been passed down through the generations of strong women who raised me. Leading our family in conflict resolution, serving my community, valuing my elders and children in community before all else, providing nurturing homes and stability for youth experiencing hardships, and respecting food sources. These values can be expressed and transferred to other cultures and within different families, but my ancestorial teachings and oral storytelling tells us why and how these values came to be. These are the same teachings I teach my three daughters; they are embedded in all of our family functions and act as a foundation of understanding the world outside of our family and community.

My current motherhood journey includes a very opinionated and strong-willed 8-year-old. She is vibrant and enjoys challenging other’s thoughts and perceptions. She demands reasoning and evidence to back that reasoning. She is protective over her two younger sisters and emotionally responsive toward those around her. The natural rate in which she responds to conflict is quick; very keen to provide others with her why, what, and how; we’ve always encouraged her voice to fill the space she’s in. Within it all, she values her family and how we see her as a daughter, big sister, granddaughter and niece. I encourage her to be strong and questioning but also be aware that there’s space for softness. As a young girl with darker skin than most of her peers, she’ll need both qualities. We live in a world where so many women and young girls are conditioned to value silence. We have expectations of what’s appropriate, and when I discovered I would have a daughter I knew I needed to try a little harder to encourage her power and voice to lead. However, I didn’t consider how softness can relate to understanding and confidence in one’s self-identity. It wasn’t until I shifted to working with tribal communities and moved away from academia that I saw where I needed to improve. The work I do professionally happens so seamlessly because I am working with tribal communities who have the same humor, lived experience, and values. That doesn’t mean there isn’t conflict or there isn’t space of frustration. What opened my eyes was the need to listen and how that is never ending.

Questioning the world around us and analyzing people can often be a form of defense, wanting to be resilient to a system we may not fully understand. As a mother, I am working toward teaching my daughters the importance of self-identity and values; they do not need to defend or sway others to accept these parts of themselves. I’m also learning this lesson alongside them, probably making as many hiccups as they will over the years. One of our culture’s core values is listening; taking the time to hear others in ways we may not hear them normally. In our ceremonies or private restorative conversations there is a beautiful stillness that is a product of vulnerable understanding.

Restorative talking circles have been used for generations for Indigenous people to combat conflict in a respectful and united way—encouraging each voice to be heard but to learn to be better listeners. This understanding and connection reminds us of our humanity and need to evolve; it’s powerful and helps us look at the world through a more optimistic lens. My hope is by learning how to sit in the calmness and beauty of our values while experiencing our world in different settings (school, work, friend groups, etc.), we influence an impact and domino effect to others; defensiveness never attracts goodness.

Recently, an elderly neighbor noticed our family’s pride flag, which led to a beautiful and emotional conversation. We have lived in our cul-de-sac for years and aside from a couple of younger couples with kids, we have many elderly neighbors. I’ve been hesitant to share symbols like a rainbow flag or even campaign signs out of fear of conflict and my family’s safety. This isn’t because of the people living in the homes near us but the world we live in that creates a divide often resulting in outbursts and hate. This elderly neighbor came over to ask questions about the flag; what the design and the colors represented and why rainbow flags are the universal symbol of the LGBTQIA+. He asked about the different identity flags and who should have a flag, is it inclusive to people who belong in the community or allies? Can he have a flag in his yard if he’s still learning? Would his son (who recently shared about his partner who identifies as non-binary) feel supported? During this conversation, he profusely apologized for not knowing what he thought he should at his age. He corrected himself when he wanted to say, “I just wasn’t taught this,” and instead would say, “I haven’t learned.” You could see his effort and how it was motivated by fear; his worry of hurting his son and his partner. He asked his questions and listened with openness even if he didn’t fully understand the complexities.

Across multiple generations, “not being taught” something seems to be a cushion to land on in uncomfortable situations. Lack of understanding is to be expected when our parents or grandparents before us didn’t strive to learn or seek out understanding about situations that didn’t fit into their religion, culture, or community. There is no need to back track and find the source of intolerance, not one person is responsible; we know the world doesn’t make it easy. Our society has shifted to a mentality of repeating cycles and as a collective group inhabiting with one another, it’s important we ask ourselves just how much generational healing we want to leave our future generations? Do we want to continue to leave and strengthen destructive cycles or can we take the time to learn alongside our children? Can we have difficult discussions that make us uncomfortable with trusted community members? What resources are there that could aid in the understanding of a different culture or religion?  Beneath it all, do we want to learn as we teach our children so when it’s time for us to leave the world, they have the humanity and excitement to carry on our want to learn, empathize, and understand their neighbors?