I can unequivocally say that I don’t regret having children, that for me, the sacrifices I have made are so worth the deep love my kids and I have for each other, the unparalleled joy they bring me.
However, I–and I hazard to guess most mothers–relate to many of the sentiments bravely expressed in this article. They are what we mothers who are close enough to one another confide in intimate conversation, but that are taboo to admit publicly.
Perhaps we should talk more candidly about the costs of motherhood in order to encourage those considering taking it on to do some deep self-examination before signing up for this lifelong, incredibly rewarding, but at times, all-consuming commitment.
Michelle (I can call you that, right?), I’m pretty sure that I’m going to miss you even more than I’ll miss your husband. As much as you dislike the limelight, please continue to shine in it.
Now that we’ve had you, I don’t think we can give you up. I don’t think we can give up:
Your powerful ability to voice the unvarnished truth
Your sense of humor
The ways in which celebrity has not diminished your groundedness
Your devotion to both motherhood and public service
The way you speak out about the bind that you and other primary parents are in while trying to be both good mothers and fathers and good employees, good leaders
Your marriage, your relationship with Barack
The role model and source of pride you are for girls and women, especially but certainly not only black girls and women.
This list is not exhaustive.
I hope you’ll reconsider running for POTUS, something you’ve refused to do in the past, or at least for senator.
Or maybe you’ve got something else up your sleeve? If so, it better be something that gives you the platform and influence that you’ve earned–and that we’ve come to expect from you.
Of the many reasons I personally resent Trump, one is that he’s distracted me from an issue that, as many of you know, was and still should be of utmost importance to me: climate change.
I was initially drawn to Bernie because of his unwavering commitment to tackling climate change with the urgency and on the scale that the crisis demands. Once Bernie fell by the wayside, however, I got so sucked into the daily intrigues surrounding the Trump campaign, that I began to lose sight of what should be front and center this election: how we’re going to #ActOnClimate, build a more sustainable world, and how we’re going to do so in time.
One thing that I miss about Bernie is his relentless insistence that we stay focused on the issues. I hope that Hillary and the moderators of the upcoming debates are able to reel Trump in, or at least demand from him that the conversation be one of substance, whether the topic be climate change or anything else. Of course Trump won’t cooperate but they can at least hold his feet to the fire, right?
Part of me feels that it’s justifiable that my climate activism has been derailed by Trump. Trump poses such a threat to so much that I and others hold dear that stopping him truly does seem like it needs to be the locus of my energies now. Another part of me, however, is resentful and ashamed to admit that passively reading about and denouncing him on social media has supplanted my more active efforts, however feeble, to help combat climate change.
Our planet is in too precarious a state to withstand four years of a Trump presidency, but perhaps it’s also in too precarious a state for us to wait until the election’s over to speak up on its behalf.