If it’s summer, that means it’s time for another shitshow on Feministe from a guest blogger who declares that the childfree hate and oppress children — this time, it’s because the GB was at a bar with her kid when she received a call from a friend who wanted her to hang out, chill, drink and greet the dawn — at least until the GB’s friend (or the friend’s friends; there was mention of whispering in the background) asked if her daughter was with her. From this, the GB declared, “You do not have a right to child-free spaces,” slammed US culture (the GB, Maia, lives in Cairo) as child-unfriendly, and pretty much put people on notice that if they see a child misbehaving in public, they’re awful, child-hating, oppressing people if they don’t send “warm energy” rather than eyerolls the child’s way.
No word on whether she asked her friend why she asked about the kid’s presence, which might have cleared things up. But I guess revealing the source of the friends’ reluctance to party down with a three-year-old might cast doubt on both the central premise of the post — that wanting a handful of adults-only spaces is misogynist — and on Maia’s description of her child as Cooler Than You.
Things devolved, as they do on Feministe. This is a well-greased third rail. Within the first ten comments, the original idea of “How dare you want to keep me from bringing my toddler to an all-night party or have a limited number of spaces where kids are not allowed” to “The childfree want to keep kids out of ALL public spaces, and that’s misogynist because it limits the movements of women in society, you bigots!” While that would be the case if true, it’s, well, not true, and so: I call straw. Particularly nice was the way that PWD were mocked for wanting quiet spaces, or service workers were told to just shut up and do their jobs if they complained about kids who knocked things (or people) over and created more work/a more dangerous work environment.
But I’m not going to rehash all the depressingly well-trod talking-past-each-other business; others have done so. I’m going to follow up on Karnythia’s post and talk about kids and drunks, as someone who’s been there.
It’s a topic on which I am well-versed, having grown up with a seriously alcoholic father. How serious? He drank nearly a liter of Scotch every single night (in a little under three and a half hours) when I was growing up. When I was little — as in the age of Maia’s daughter — I probably didn’t notice his drinking too much because a) he was not quite as bad then; b) I was in bed by the time he really got rolling, and my mother ran interference. But of course, as you get older, you get a later bedtime, and I started becoming aware something was wrong as I started staying up late enough to see him really get sloshed.
Mind you, unlike Karnythia, I wasn’t brought to bars. My father drank at home, and if we were out somewhere when he was drinking, it was a party or a barbecue or a bar/restaurant, and my mother was there as well, not drinking, and keeping an eye out for when we should get the hell out of there before he made a scene. She didn’t always get him to leave before that happened, but she usually was the one to drive home (usually — I do recall some terrifying rides with Dad drinking while he drove).
So unless I saw drunk uncles or neighbors or friends of parents, my experience of drunks as a child was pretty much limited to my father.
And let me tell you, if he was any guide — and I found out when I was older and hung around drunk people at bars that he indeed was – drunks are fucking terrifying.
I still get agita when watching TV with people who like to have the TV at high volume, because if Dad heard the TV when he had a snootful, he would probably come downstairs or into the basement and start bellowing at us, chasing us around, or on occasion, beating my brothers (once, he attacked my brother with a thick steel T-square, hitting him on the head; my brother called child protective services, which didn’t go down very well with Dad or Mom). We couldn’t be assured that he was really passed out after 9, when he usually went upstairs, because there were a significant number of times when he came roaring down the stairs after he’d gone up and we’d all emerged from the basement or outside.
Same thing with yelling. I get heart palpitations when people raise their voices around me (when it’s otherwise quiet), and I don’t think that’s ever going to go away. Once, when I was 7 or 8, my sister and I found my parents’ first kitchen table down in the basement. Since we didn’t have a desk in our room, we asked our mom if we could have it, and she said sure. I know we painted it; she may have even helped us. That night, we were in our room, in bed, when he kicked open the door and demanded to know where the marijuana was. Kat and I cowered under our covers, screaming; we didn’t know what the hell he was talking about - I’m not sure we knew what marijuana was (did I mention I was 7 or 8?). Turns out he smelled the paint fumes and assumed they were drugs — probably because he had no idea what weed smelled like.
The thing that made all of this so terrifying was its unpredictability* — you really just never could tell when he would go off, even if you had a general sense of what might set him off; as in the paint fumes/marijuana incident, you could be woken from a sound sleep by bellowing, banging, roaring. A lot of drunks are like that; they can be happy one second and violent the next, but if they’re strangers to you, you don’t know the triggers or the warning signs or how many drinks it takes to go from one to the other — or how many drinks they’ve had. Not that knowing makes it any better.
Which, you know, makes taking your toddler** to a bar a really stellar idea.
If that makes me an oppressive child-hater, I will wear that name proudly.
_________
* What made it really poisonous was that we couldn’t talk about it, except among us kids. He didn’t remember a goddamn thing, and my mother wanted to pretend it never happened. We lived our lives wrapped in shame and fear and furtiveness. And resentment — oh, boy, did we live with resentment. Even when he got sent to rehab by his company because he kept getting stinking drunk on business trips, he tried to blame it on us for having an issue with his drinking.
** Not limited to toddlers. I don’t like to see kids of any age at bars. Leaving aside questions of the unsuitability of a bunch of drinkers as companions for children, bars are fucking LOUD even if they’re not playing music. A crowded bar creates a self-reinforcing feedback loop of noise — the bigger the crowd, the louder it is, and the louder you have to talk to be heard. I will leave a bar that’s too loud; I can’t imagine that’s good for the development of any kid’s hearing. For that matter, what is wrong with people who bring their dogs and their sensitive hearing to loud bars?
That thread was such a disaster on all sides. When you define “sometimes I don’t want to be around kids” as an anti-child statement, yeah, you’re not going to get a lot of good discussion because no one can disagree without being called an oppressive child hater. And the disingenuous mock-misunderstandings were out of control. Why do you want to ban kids from bars? THERE ARE BARS IN APPLEBEES RESTAURANTS! HOW DARE YOU SAY MOMS CAN’T TAKE THEIR KIDS TO APPLEBEES!
God, thank you. I’ve seen the momfia hint that the people who objected to Maia’s selfishness are just plain lying or ’selectively remembering’ the badly-parented kids they see. Yup, it’s all made up. It’s really shitty.
so so so so glad you’re blogging again.
And Astrea - I agree 100% with your analysis. You know what? sometimes I don’t want to be around PEOPLE. that doesn’t make me a people-hater.
Astraea — I think no one should go to Applebee’s, on principle. I mean, really.
Ginmar — they went beyond hinting, and when I pointed out that dismissing people’s reports of their experiences with badly-behaved or endangered-by-crappy parenting children in public was not so different than dismissing women’s reports of street harassment, that was turned into equating listening to a loud kid with street harassment. And dismissed.
Sam - thanks!
I guess I have to ask why it’s so very important for Maia (or anyone) to go to a bar that she takes her kid along, and gets her nose out of joint when her friends are reluctant to include Aza in their sunrise drinking. I don’t think she said how late it was, but if you’re being invited to watch the sun rise, it is very late indeed.
I understand that there are people who really can’t go anywhere without taking their kid because there’s no one else to watch them. But the people claiming that having adults-only parties and bars is oppression seem to be a little better off than all that.
Hey, sometimes Applebees is as good as it gets in Nowhere, Ohio. Why do you hate the midwest???
Obviously, anecdotes are wrong unless they’re about people glaring at parents with kids.
Because I’m a coastal elitist child-hating oppressor, Astraea, but you knew that.
Retweeted. And thank you for linking to those blogs that spoke up in support of childfree spaces — somehow I’d not read ANY of them and they’ve all been added to my blogroll.
Clearly one either adores children and has or plans to have them or one is a child hater and eats baby-flavored donuts at every meal. And there are no infertile or childfree-not-by-choice feminists, so no one has to worry about making them feel bad.
Did you read the clusterfuck of a follow-up post where she declares that the word mama = social justice worker which is the Best Thing Ever to be and oh yeah, it has nothing to do with gender or parenting. The comments are full of biological determinism, in case you wanted some as a side for your babies on toast.
Oh, I saw that. There’s just so much *headdesk* I can deal with in a week.
I really wonder who all these people are who insist that they never, ever, want time to be quiet, alone, or sexual. My daughter’s 13 months old and I love her to pieces, but I still look forward to having time to myself, time just with my husband, and time without keeping an eye on her. I also look forward to time not being around other people’s kids, because I honestly find it to add (however incrementally) to my stress level.
I think that people get defensive about genuine bad parenting because there’s a lot of good parents who are trying hard and sometimes your kid just melts down in the middle of the grocery store because they are exhausted and hungry. They think of that situation and think “It could be me they’re talking about!” Except, of course, it’s not. There’s a huge difference between the kid who’s coming down with a bad cold and the parents who (true story) think that it’s funny when their kid throws every dish within reach to the floor of the restaurant and find the flinging of a *glass ketchup bottle* into a crowded dining room the highlight of comedy. Sometimes, it’s not about you.
Now, where have I heard that last line before?
God, Zuzu, I’ve seen two bloggers I previously had some respect for do these incredibly pointed, bitchy, passive aggressive posts that put me in mind of those nasty pro lifers. “Children are GREAT!” If they weren’t out in public LIKE SOME NASTY DIRTY CHILD EATING BITCHES WOULD HAVE IT then I would have been stranded here all night!
And Maia more or less said outright that unless you’ve had kids or at least make up for your miserable neutered existence by adoring every kid everywhere you’re not shit. Feminists didn’t do shit for her! It was MAMAS, dammit!
One thing I’ve learned is that there’s nothing easier than judging other people’s parenting styles and choices. That plus the defining “’sometimes I don’t want to be around kids’” as an anti-child statement” is just a recipe for disaster.
(I second the “Woohoo, a blog post from Zuzu!” sentiment)
Thank you! (linked from the Angry Black Woman post) I got a headache with all of the entitlement and straw men flying about in the post AND comments.
Now I’ll go back to my child-free, oops meant, child-hating life now. /snark
I especially like how, if they’re not permitted for any reason to take their kids anywhere, it’s just like the hoses in Birmingham. Are kids a special ticket to places and things that women feel they didn’t have access to on their own?
I’m really perplexed at the disappearance of fathers here. I know some people — like La Lubu — are really, truly single parents and often have no other option for childcare. But for those who are in couples, or who have shared-custody arrangements with their child’s father, what is wrong, exactly, with getting him to watch the child while she goes out? Or wait until the child is at his/her dad’s place to hit the bars?
I suppose it crimps one’s style to have to turn down last-minute invitations to watch the sun rise because it’s your turn to watch the baby, but if you’re over the age of, say, 18, and you haven’t figured out that once you have a baby you can’t live your life exactly the way you did before the baby, then I don’t really know what to tell you.
I mean, my life changed when I got a *dog* so that I can no longer stay out all night. And I can leave her alone with a bowl of water for hours at a time. Babies and children are a little more intensive than that.
One thing I’ve learned is that there’s nothing easier than judging other people’s parenting styles and choices.
What’s funny about that is that mommy drive-bys are usually done by other mommies. But somehow, it’s the childfree who get all the anger.
I try to stay away from judging people’s parenting when it’s not obviously shitty, but there are just some things that are such no-brainers that you don’t have to have birthed a child to form an opinion. Such as the parent who allowed his tween child to ROLLERBLADE AROUND A RESTAURANT. Sure, it was nearly empty, but there were other diners there (me and my companion, for one) and a waitress who had to dodge the kid while carrying hot plates. She looked like she really wanted to say something, but this was the Upper East Side, home of rich, entitled white parents, and she probably realized that doing so would get her in trouble.
As for me, I was sorely tempted to stick my foot out as the kid rolled by my table.
What’s funny about that is that mommy drive-bys are usually done by other mommies. But somehow, it’s the childfree who get all the anger.
Indeed. As if childfree people somehow were the only ones apt to be annoyed by screaming, obnoxious children. Mothers obviously are immune to such responses. As a (currently) childfree woman, I have never commented on another parent’s parenting style in front of them. But I definitely judge. Like the parents who let children use sugar packets as a toy.
It’s too bad Maia’s post devolved into a shitstorm, because I really would like to see a conversation about how we socialize children and the roles of fathers.
And while I’m at it, I’d like a pony, too.
I grew up in a family of heavy drinkers. My mother was usually not drinking but everybody else was. And it was regularly scary despite the fact that nobody in my family was abusive in the way your father was. They just acted more reckless, did scarier things and generally behaved inappropriately.
Just last night I was at an outdoor concert (ABBA tribute band, night-time performance at a place that is essentially a packed park filled with wine and blankets) and I was SHOCKED by how many kids were there. And how little they were supervised. The group next to us let one of the kids jump up and down on the lawn chair until she toppled onto me (missing impaling her little head on my wine-glass holder/spike by about two inches). Then, just a few minutes later, a little girl ran into our little picnic table, spilling red wine everywhere. Luckily I had *just* put most of our food away or it would have been doused. The mother ran up and in a panic told her daughter: Don’t worry! It’s not your fault! (Who’s fault is it? I guess it was mine for drinking in the middle of an adult venue).
At any rate, it made me very uncomfortable because I suddenly had to be responsible for all the children around me when what I really wanted to do was get drunk on red wine with my friends (who left their own kids at home) and talk trash and swear and sing along to the stupid ABBA cover band.
Kids and alcohol-fueled events do not mix in my mind.
I’m child-free by choice, and honestly I’m not that keen on kids. I like my friends’ kids. And family.
I regularly request to be placed far away from screaming kids in restaurants–and I don’t feel guilty about that at all. I’m tired of being shamed for not adoring the kids of strangers! I don’t hate kids. I just don’t want to drink around them!
Okay.
I have a kid. You’ve met my kid. You’ve met my kid repeatedly on social occasions during which, although the consumption of alcohol was not the point of the gathering, alcohol was most definitely consumed.
With those as my bona fides, let me just say that (JMO) having a toddler
1) in an environment which is pretty much certain to overstimulate them
2) around chemically disinhibited adult strangers
3) while your own responses are impaired by alcohol
4) dear god, as the fucking sun came up?
is cracked out beyond belief.
On the other hand, while I am as big a food snob as any and more than most (and you know this as well), sometimes a crappy meal at Pizzeria Uno or Applebees is the price of sanity, and more than worth it.
And I may have been one of those people saying age-inappropriate things within earshot of your child, Julia!
I actually think it’s important for parents who drink to be seen drinking in front of their children, especially when they’re able to model healthy drinking behaviors. And certainly, parents can do that at home, by having friends over or having a drink with a meal, or by having a drink or two at a pub or bar/restaurant where the sole focus of the event isn’t drinking. AND having the sense to take the kids out before anyone gets too far into their cups.
I think one of the reasons I struggled so much with alcohol as an adult was that I didn’t have any good models for moderation — my dad drank himself into a stupor nightly, and my mom hardly drank at all. The few times my mom had a couple in our presence and got a little tipsy were actually very helpful, because it helped me see that not everyone who drank was (at the least) verbally abusive and scary.
So, yea, I remember the table incident. Not sure if you recall, but it ended with us on the porch roof, and our beds being turned over. And mom with her ears covered downstairs. Thanks for that walk down memory lane
I was at a bar in Connecticut when I was in my early 20’s. It was a Sunday late afternoon and there was a real cast of characters there. In CT, at the time at least, you could legally take your children to a bar, they just had to stay 10 feet away from the bar at all times. So what would happen is that the parent would sit at the bar and get drunk, and the children would be left on the other side of the bar on their own. In this particular incident, the dad was skunk drunk at the bar, and three very young girls (overstimulated, tired, probably hungry) were on a stinky couch on the other side of the bar. I was not a parent at the time, but I felt this was so awful, I mentioned it to the bartender. He said these girls were in the bar every weekend — they came in with the mom when she had them, and then with the dad when he had them. He’d called the police but the 10′ rule was being followed by the dad and girls, so there was literally nothing to be done.
Anyhow, on this particular Sunday, the dad, stinking drunk, got it a fist fight with some other drunk. The two started scuffling. The girls saw their father in this chaos and ran into the fray, to their daddy. The drunks didn’t notice, and the fight continued with these three babies underfoot of drunken construction boots and flying fists. I swooped in and grabbed a 2-year-old just before some 240-lb man landed on the floor where she had been. The cops were called, the men were kicked out. The 2-year-old laid her head on my shoulder, a woman she had never met, and fell asleep.
Yea, I doubt those girls were having much fun. I have thought about them over the years and wondered what became of them. They would be grown by now. What awful memories they must have.
PS. I do drink, and I don’t pretend I don’t to my kids, but I do try to expose my children to positive, social drinking. And let them be kids while they are kids.
I actually don’t remember that — I must have blocked that out, for real. It’s all very fractured.
Yea, I think if all 6 of us got in a room together, we may be able to assemble about 1/2 our childhood.
Scratch that. We’d never be able to agree.
Our childhood, as directed by Akira Kurosawa.
I’m wondering what all of you may think of this post:
http://flipfloppingjoy.com/2010/07/30/last-thoughts-on-motherhood-stuff-at-feministe/
I thought Mai’a’s post was incomplete and unclear. Everyone always comes at this sort of topic with their own assumptions and cultural values, so it was really important that it could’ve been introduced as clear and as unconfusing as possible, and I think it failed at meeting this objective.
And @LOL at the “she’s arguing about tone!” comments in-thread.
Boy, talk about bullshit there. Let’s argue about what the word ‘bar’ means? Let’s add shit tons of qualifications onto the original piece and then whine that nobody asked for clarification? How many excuses does this chick intend to make?
A lot of these mommy wars come from mothers who find themselves in sucky situations, which they seem to blame feminists for. And too damned many of them think that motherhood is their chance at the brass ring; they’ve got the kid, they’re special now and can make demands. Sorry. If you were an asshole before you had kids, you’re likely still an asshole after.
A lot of people though maia was your typical privileged white mom trying to hold onto her old life style. That’s on her. She wrote it; when you have lots of people making the same mistake, it’s your fault as the writer. Given how frankly shitty her writing was….
Wow, I went to one of the other blogs I commented (bfp) on and saw how I was ragged on in comments after leaving my one comment. I can’t believe a. that I’m somehow othering Maia by calling her OP when I made my comment and I’m this hateful person because I don’t know the bloggers draconian commenting policy. I expect to do essays in school, not as a way of life on someone’s blog.
Don’t mind me, but getting ragged on for days after I commented just really aggravates me.