One for Mom

Our extended culture is overtly unfriendly to mothers. We will neither allow nor establish a world and common cultures that cherish and uplift them. We make their children to suffer, and be lost; we ruin their fulfillment. We call it love and, as usual, deliver fetishes.

We have parades. These make up for shipping their dead and mangled dreams home with their children’s bodies. For the crushed lives and verbal beatings. These make up for knowing that the taxes they paid dismembered the children of other mothers who they will never meet. For being demeaned and sexualized instead of nurtured and supported. For being ignored.

Our extended culture is cruel to mothers. We make a world where loving wonder invites assault and abuse. We deny the mothers true personhood, and commonly subject them and their children to rape and wrongdoing of every conceivable kind. Generation after generation. There is no answer. We are still pretending.

But we have these nice parades. And beautiful garbage. Cars. Or pictures of the sexual organs of plants. With geometrically cut chunks compressed carbon. Dresses. Shoes. Or champagne. It’s reasonable to celebrate atrocity by pretending it isn’t really there. You can cover it up with ribbons and happy slogans. You can bury the truth in truisms and sappy maxims. Along with their dreams and their children.

The truth is that, as an extended culture, we hate mothers. We celebrate images of idealized fictions. And our culture is cruel and demeaning to them while pretending otherwise. And we hate their children too, while, again, pretending otherwise.

But we have a little celebration. So everything can go along as usual. When we should have a revolution. Now. Today. And make a world together where mothers, and children, and fathers are not hated, assaulted, neglected — and then pretentiously celebrated.

I think that would be better.

Than a special day to spend money and lie about it.

Do you think the flowers will undo the sexual assaults, the war dead, the insipid paradigms of beauty that insult every possible truth of the feminine?

Could diamonds buy you the adoration and power of the love and wisdom of mothers fulfilled and united?

Forget the sexy underwear, ok? Give them a world where their children aren’t bait for torture, rape, war, slavery and disease — and their dreams have a chance not only to sprout, but to blossom. Give them back their voices and the nobility of their actual station. Give them adoration, wonder, awe, and respect. In the culture. In the home. Everywhere. In every nation. Because without that, everything is simply wrong.

Let’s trade ‘Mothers’ day’ for that.

Now.

Mom, this one’s for you.