The Left Must Reclaim Motherhood

Time​ Magazine

2 days ago

'I had no idea how much you loved being a mom,' my best friend said one day at a park meet-up 15 months after my son was born. At that point, I'd been parenting for over a year, and yet, I'd somehow forgotten to tell her how much this new life-altering experience had meant to me. In fact, one of the first things I decided after my son was born was that I wouldn't write about him or motherhood. I'd felt unable to describe the mixture of joy, rage, love, and exhaustion that consumed me because of it. More accurately, it took me years to feel comfortable with the idea that parenting wasn't a frivolous topic, and 'mother' was a word I actually wanted to be associated with.
Since then, there have been other moments of motherhood dissonance. I've found myself baking a cake from scratch (which, for the record, has never turned out quite right!) or cooking a meal for my family, feeling happily domestic, when a suspicious sensation takes over, as if I might turn into a milkmaid-dress donning homesteader who has abandoned all her progressive ideals. But is enjoying cooking food for people you love a conservative endeavor? And why did it take me so long to feel ok to share my experiences as a mother?
Sure, I never dreamed of becoming a parent when I was growing up, and I saw the suburbs as a heteronormative hellscape. But it's more than that—recently, it's because the cultural chasm surrounding motherhood has widened, largely because of politics. On one side of the political spectrum, conservatives have adeptly rebranded motherhood as a sanctified identity—stylized, nostalgic, and tightly wrapped in traditional values. From the rise of tradwive s, to the rise of the pronatalist movement, to the homeschooling revival, conservative motherhood has become not only a lifestyle but a political aesthetic. Decorated in gingham and pastels, with references to "simpler times," right-wing influencers have woven a narrative where motherhood is both an ideal and a coveted aesthetic—one that often valorizes the nuclear family, eschews public institutions, and distrusts science.
Meanwhile, the left has engaged in a vital act of exposing the harsher and heavier realities of parenting. From economists like Emily Oster and writers Jessica Valenti and Angela Garbes (to name a very few), we have been shown the truth about the gender wage gap's impact on parenting, the way maternal mortality disproportionately affects Black women, and the imbalance of cognitive labor that mothers bear. Social media accounts like TikTok's @momunfiltered share stories of messy motherhoods detailing the exhaustion, the inequity, and the lack of social safety nets. These accounts have helped to destigmatize these experiences and have revealed how parenting in a country with no universal childcare, inadequate maternal healthcare, and no guaranteed paid leave becomes an act of survival for many.
This truth is essential—especially in a culture that punishes mothers while feigning reverence for them. But amidst this necessary reckoning, depictions of joy and meaning have been lost.
As a queer, progressive mother of two, I know this conflict intimately. I've noticed how quickly I'll make a joke about the stress of parenting, but hesitate to share when something about it feels deeply good. There's a subtle sense that taking pleasure in domesticity might be a betrayal of my values—as if nurturing children, or even enjoying something as benign as baking, plays into oppressive tropes.
But why should the right own parenting and caretaking?
I was most struck by the recent headline of feminist philosopher Kate Manne, who wrote a piece titled 'Don't Have Children,' where she described her daughter as her greatest joy, but simultaneously wrote that she hopes to never become a grandmother. Is that the best we can offer children and young people in our country, which is rich in money, technology, advanced medical treatments, and resources? This complete give-up cannot be the only solution. .
In our efforts to dismantle the idealization of motherhood, the left has struggled to articulate a more complex view of caregiving—one that acknowledges the labor, yes, but also celebrates the connection, creativity, and sometimes radical meaning that comes with raising children. It has also left out a vision for what caregiving has the potential to be under the right leadership. As the conservative right makes motherhood its ideological stronghold, the left risks ceding not just the narrative, but the cultural and political power that comes with it. What would it mean to embrace motherhood not only as a struggle but a site of potential joy and creativity? Our elected officials could, in theory, make positive change should they choose to take on caretaking in a meaningful way. We've seen it happen elsewhere: In 2024, for instance, the UK passed a law attempting to help specifically working and low-income families by allowing access to free childcare for up to 15 hours per week for children nine months and older, and up to 30 hours for three and four year olds. This past April, Singapore added four weeks of mandatory paternity leave (other countries, including Sweden, Japan, and Norway have similar policies), which has the ability to jump-start more equitable caretaking for both parents early on. This does not solve all the issues that come with parenthood, but it's certainly a start.
Leftist activists are fighting for childcare funding, reproductive justice, and equitable family leave policies. There are growing grassroots childcare collectives popping up, like Rad Dad Zine and the Parenting for Liberation network, which both model the use of mutual aid, intersectionality, and bring joy to the forefront. During the COVID-19 pandemic, we saw families lean on each other for pod schooling and collaborative use of resources. Despite these boots on the ground movements, we don't see our elected Democratic officials take these needs on in a meaningful way that would put people over profits.
The left doesn't need to replicate the tradwife stylings, however relaxing and visually appealing it seems, but it does need its own vision—one that affirms the possibility of caregiving without erasing the hardship. To reclaim motherhood, the left must do more than critique. We must dream and share what caregiving could look like in our world of more than plenty. We must push our elected officials to champion meaningful public policies like universal childcare and paid parental leave.
I've also realized that I can do a better job of making more visible the joy and radical meaning that comes not despite caregiving, but because of it. I have become more vocal in claiming the title of mother and discussing the varying ways motherhood has changed me for the better. Above all, since all moms feel so differently about each stage, day, and moment, I try to make sure that I am just sharing my point of view.
Motherhood and joy are not inherently conservative. It's time for the left (and me) to reclaim this truth—and with it, to imagine a future where parenting is not a battleground but a common ground.