Journal of the Motherhood Initiative for Research and Community Involvement (JMI - York University)

Collings, Sara

Book Reviews 
for "half-orphans," poor houses, "little mothers" (i.e. the use of young girls as 
child-minders), day nurseries, infant schools, crkches, kindergartens, children's 
shelters, and homes for infants. Michel is scrupulous in linking developments 
in the childcare arena to forces at work in the larger society, such as industri- 
alization, immigration, urbanization, and war. She places each child care- 
related "development" or innovation within a specific historical and ideological 
context. 
Sonya Michel is a history professor and director ofwomen's studies at the 
University of Illinois. Scholars will appreciate her rigorous research, attention 
to detail, 84 pages of endnotes, and detailed index-all ofwhich weighs heavily 
in this publication's favour. However, this is one of the most poorly designed 
books I have read in some time. Both type and margins are too small, sub- 
headings too few, and most of the illustrations and photographs are too small 
to be of any use-all of which detracted severely from my enjoyment of the 
book. 
Constructing Lived Experiences: 
Representations of Black Mothers in Child 
Sexual Abuse Discourses 
Bernard, Claudia. 
Burlington: Ashgate, 2001. 
Reviewed by Sara Collings 
Claudia Bernard's research into black women's experiences of mothering 
children who have been sexually abused is an important addition to feminist 
literature which explores the blame and responsibility that is placed on non- 
offending mothers of sexually abused children. T o  date, the particular dilem- 
mas that black mothers face in such a crisis have received little attention. 
Bernard's qualitative interviews draw on the experience of thirty black 
mothers who self-identified as blackBritish ofAfrican Caribbean originwhose 
children were either abused by a family member or by an adult who was known 
to the family. These women spoke about their coping strategies and their 
experiences with seeking help. Bernard's interviews suggest that these mothers 
faced particular stresses as they cared for their children, stresses that arose as 
they attempted to mother in a racist society. Bernard is particularly concerned 
with understanding how "divisions constructed around race and social class 
create a very different set of circumstances within which [black mothers] 
respond to the abuse of their children" (1). 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering / 203 
Book Reviews 
In general, the participants described a range of strong and contradictory 
feelings about their child's abuse and they spoke about a lack of supportive 
outlets for the expression oftheir emotions or their needs. While they ofien felt 
anger toward their abusive partners and a strong desire to protect their child, 
they also felt conflicting feelings of loyalty toward the men whose abusive acts 
might be ascribed to their racialized experience. Some women also said that 
they or their relatives believed that talking about the interfamilial sexual abuse 
might be seen as a betrayal of the family-a potential site of refuge from the 
daily effects of racism. Further, with the added burden experienced by some 
mothers to conform to the image of the "strong black woman," these feelings 
were often internalized, exacerbating the women's feelings of self-blame. 
Bernard points to the damaged motheddaughter relationship that can result 
from this silent suffering, and suggests that daughters may develop a similar 
coping method so that their needs might also remain unexpressed and unmet. 
Many of the women interviewed mistrusted social workers and Bernard 
carefully explores this mistrust. Black mothers, she suggests, already are more 
likely to be scrutinized by child protection workers, and many of the mothers 
interviewed explained that they thought of child protection agencies as racist 
institutions. The mothers had little reason to believe that the particular stress 
they faced as blackwomen would be acknowledged by child protection workers. 
Bernard devotes a chapter to how child welfare agencies might better 
respond to the needs ofblackmothers and their children. She draws on theories 
of anti-oppressive social work, suggesting that social workers need to reflect on 
their own social location and to consider black mothers' needs and actions 
within a context ofrace and gender. In particular, she encourages social workers 
to consider the divided loyalties that many black mothers experience in the face 
of a child's sexual abuse. Instead of focusing on deficits, Bernard recommends 
that child welfare workers look to black mothers' coping skills as a resource for 
working together and developing an allied relationship. Interestingly, Bernard 
also touches on a need to bring black men into the picture. She suggests that 
social workers who do not focus on men in their interventions with children run 
the risk ofreinforcing gender stereotypes and she explains that black fathers and 
mothers are subjected to distinct forms of racism and blame. Black men ofien 
are seen as dangerous or uninvolved in their children's lives, while black 
mothers are charged with the responsibility for their children's protection and 
care. Bernard's proposal to include black men in child welfare assessment is 
intriguing and worth considering more thoroughly. 
What makes Bernard's workespecially valuable are her analyses ofthe ways 
in which racism and gender oppression can both harm the mother/child 
relationship and can leave children less protected from sexual abuse. This book 
likely will be of interest to social workers involved with children and families, 
particularly those who are concerned with child welfare. It also will be valuable 
to readers who are interested in a largely unexamined aspect of the mothering 
experience. 
204 1 Volume 5, Number 1 


English

Constructing Lived Experiences: Representations of Black Mothers in Child Sexual Abuse Discourses

Büskens, Petra

A Review of Mothers and Daughters: Connection, Empowerment and Transformation

Moore, Sylvia

Book Reviews 
The book is carefully researched, providing a tough-minded critique ofthe 
injustices and bureaucratic maze faced by parents of disabled children. Edelson 
criticizes the Canadian "top-down" medical model of health care and suggests 
alternatives. In Chapter 12, "The Ethic of Care," Edelson raises tough bio- 
ethical questions: Is it ethical for science to save an infant's life if it cannot equip 
him to live fully and independently? Under what circumstances is it preferable 
to provide only comfort care (and not intervention) to an infant who has no 
hope of a quality life? Who should decide-parents or doctors? She writes, "If 
we possess the power, as doctors and citizens, to keep vulnerable little ones alive 
then we must also exercise our judicious ability to maintain them in conditions 
which promote their dignity and well-being" (153). 
The book concludes with a seven-page appendix called "Resources for 
Parents" that features recommended reading, suggestions on how to get 
information and help, tips on "how to be most helpful to someone who learns 
their child is seriously disabled or may die," and "advice to professionals." The 
last two lists should be required reading for anyone in the helping professions. 
A sample suggestion for professionals: "Do not imagine for a second that you 
know what these families are going through ... . Give full explanations of 
diagnosis, treatment options, and relevant therapies . . . (197). 
My Journey with Jake is fascinating, enlightening reading for anyone who 
cares about children or the disabled. Policy makers, ethicists, and health care 
practitioners will learn from Edelson. (Edelson sits on the advisoryboard ofthe 
Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering.) 
Pregnant with Meaning: 
Teen Mothers and the Politics of Inclusive 
Schooling 
Kelly, D. M. 
New York: Peter Lang, 2000. 
Reviewed by Sylvia Moore 
In Pregnant With Meaning, D. M. Kelly studies inclusive schooling of teen 
mothers. She analyzes inclusive schooling from a critical feminist stance, 
probing both the needs of the mothers and the stigma they encounter. The 
stories she tells come from two schools in British Columbia which attempt to 
integrate teen mothers. Kelly asks the reader to consider what "inclusion" 
means for these young women and in what way their best interests might be 
served. 
One approach to inclusion is the "real-world microcosm" where mothers 
are placed in regular classrooms. Here they are not considered different from 
other students, they are exposed to the public, and the orientation of the 
220 / Volume 5, Number 1 
Book Reviews 
curriculum is towards the workplace. Conversely, the "safe haven" approach 
places mothers in separate classes. This keeps them protected but supports and 
encourages their independence. Kelly concludes that aspects of both ap- 
proaches best serve the mothers' needs. 
Kelly's examination ofthe political construct ofteen motherhood provides 
an understanding of the background on which the two approaches are based. 
W e  hear the mothers talking, their voices woven amongst the framework of 
authoritative and marginal discourses on teen pregnancy. Lack of public 
support for teen mothers is linked to the perceived public need to deter teen 
motherhood and the notion that teen pregnancy is linked to a cycle of poverty. 
Teen mothers are not seen as "good mothersn; they are not lauded for accepting 
responsibility for their children; and their decisions, even appropriate ones, are 
challenged constantly. Schools use teen mothers as role models for other 
students, both as "shining stars" and as "reality communicators." Thus, the 
individual mother is made to shoulder the burden of change while the larger 
society is left unchanged. 
Kelly juxtaposes media stories and statements from bureaucrats with 
stories ofteen mothers. The individual stories describe challenges, frustrations, 
and successes and they push the boundaries ofwhat "inclusion" might mean for 
all involved. As Kelly concludes, "an inclusive school is impossible to separate 
from an inclusive society." 
KidStress 
Witkin, Georgia. 
New York, Penguin, 1999. 
Reviewed by Ruthe Thompson 
Kidstress struck several vital chords in me. As the mother of a 17-year-old who 
announced shortly after transferring fiom a rural to an urban high school that 
she would have to start drinking coffee to sustain homework and extracurricular 
activities in her faster-paced city life, the book's suggestions for helping 
children deal with daily stresses were enlightening. And as aparent living in the 
metropolitan United States amid daily news of anthrax deaths and exposures, 
thewar in Afghanistan, and investigations ofthe Sept. 11 attacks on the World 
Trade Center and Pentagon, this slim handbook has reminded me to take 
numerous deep breaths while helping my daughter complete college applica- 
tions and prepare to launch into an increasingly stressful world. 
Written by Georgia Witkin, a Clinical Psychologist at the Mt. Sinai 
School of Medicine in New York City and author of eight books on women's 
health, KidStress offers a compendium ofuseful strategies for teaching children 
Journal oftbe Association for Research on Mothering / 221 


Pregnant with Meaning: Teen Mothers and the Politics of Inclusive Schooling

Thomas, Trudelle

Misfit Mothers: Memoirs by Mothers of Children with Disabilities

Reid, Leslie

Leslie Reid 
Afterimage 
A Photographic Journal of 
Making Art and Mothering Teens 
For the past few years in my work as an artist and photographer, I have been 
looking at issues of motherhood and in particular maternal ambivalence. I 
turned to these ideas at a time when my two sons were getting a little older-- 
a time when I finally felt confident enough to look at my life as a mother in my 
art. In their early childhood, I had little energy, less confidence, and even less 
desire to think about motherhood as an issue in my work--any work at all was 
a major achievement--and I clung to the belief that my art had not changed just 
because I was a mother. I lived through a long period of denial and self- 
censorship in my work. 
Many of our difficulties in addressing our roles as mothers stem from the 
fact that we are, not surprisingly, fearful of the deep and unspoken ambivalence 
we experience as mothers. We  fear also the effects, both private and public, of 
our acknowledgment of this ambivalence. As well, the discipline ofvisual arts 
does not particularly encourage such an exploration. For artists, the represen- 
tation of motherhood is difficult as it is coloured by its association with 
essentialism, sentiment, and autobiography. My exploration of maternal 
ambivalence in myworkbegan with a serendipitous moment ofrevelation while 
sorting through family photographs-snapshots, really-and led to an urgent 
desire to examine my reluctance to dig into the center of my life-digging into 
the wreck, as Adrienne Rich (1986) calls it. 
I have always used photographs as source material for my painting but 
consciously eliminated all reference to my maternal life in work that dealt with 
physical, perceptual, and psychic effects of light. I t  was photographs of my two 
sons swimming in a pond-a pond image used in many un-peopled paint- 
ings-that triggered my recognition of the need to turn to my motherhood as 
a focus in my work. The intensity of my response to these photographs took me 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering / 111 
Leslie Reid 
Leslie Reid, "Cantley U,'' 1993, 56"x 85'; oil on canvas. 
Leslie Reid, "Cantley U,'V8"x 12: Cibachrome. 
by surprise. They revealed the darker side of my connectedness to my sons, one 
of anxiety and dread, and a recognition of both external and internal danger, 
and led me to explore maternal ambivalence as subject in my art. 
In the photographs of the children these ambiguities are evidenced by 
shadow and by absence-my absence. The figures are often held transfured in 
rings ofwater; faces are obscured, lost in patterns of light and shade. Connec- 
112 / Volume 5, Number l 
Afterimage 
tion seems tenuous at best, fragile and threatened-I am present only as 
watcher. Subdued colour, low tonality and a flattened unknowable space 
heighten this sense of anxiety. The photographs are more direct in their 
depiction of motherhood and ambivalence; the paintings developed from them 
are subtle and somewhat destabilizing. 
The idea of afterimage comes from thinking about the positive and 
negative, light and shadow character of mothering, how these qudities are 
Leslie Reid, "Cantly XII, " 1995,24"x 36: oil on canvas. 
exacerbated in mothering teens, and the parallels in the lighddark qualities of 
my work that has always referenced the positivelnegative of the photograph as 
a continuing metaphor. As my sons grow closer to adulthood, my perceptions 
of them, of myself, of our constantly shifting and often-fraught relationship 
have, of necessity, changed, and are moving into and transforming the 
paintings. The distancing devices I had found necessary in earlier works with 
the children-were they defenses against fear and foreboding?-have begun to 
dissolve, and I am looking more directly at the tangled chiid/parendadult 
image. The narrative, like the boys themselves, is becoming more assertive. 
Often conflicting perceptions of our changing roles are bringing new emotions 
to the surface, appearing, almost literally at times, in the images of my sons and 
the ponds and rivers that occur repeatedly in my work 
I am now dealing with these new concerns-the challenges and perils of 
making art about mothering teens-and the seeming impossibility of seizing 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 113 
Leslie Reid 
this time, in my life and in my work. I am contemplating the necessity and the 
resistance encountered in trying to capture the chaotic feelings of release and 
regret that accompany this time-this period of breaking away and letting go, 
of stepping back as I continue to reach out a hand. My older son is now 18 years 
old and a self-declared, legally independent, adult male, although clean socks 
and a full refrigerator are still issues. I'm still on call. 
I have been reliant on my familyphotographs for painting and drawing for 
years now. They are a source of reflection and investigation of my changing 
experience of motherhood and maternal ambivalence. Now there are so few 
Leslie Reid, "Cantley XIK " 8"x 8: Cibachrome. 
photo opportunities. The boys are more resistant-hardly unusual but so 
significant for me and my watchfulness. I t  is harder to mark my presence and 
absence, my ambivalent feelings about the whole enterprise ofmothering. I feel 
a poignant regret, much stronger than I had anticipated, at this turning point 
in our lives as mother and sons. I am facing testosterone-driven individuation 
which, unlike that of infancy, seems to be happening without me, or without 
114 1 Volume 5, Number l 
Afterimage 
Leslie Reid, "Cantley: Hurricane," 1998, 48"x 72': oil on canvas. 
Leslie Reid, "Cantley: Spiral," 1998, 8"x 12': cbromogenic prin f 
my influence on how, when, and where it occurs. And it's gathering noisy 
momentum. I am becoming someone other. 
Are these changing relationships affecting my work? It seems harder to 
deal with than I expected. Perhaps it is because I am living the changes even as 
I paint and write. My mothering role is more tenuous and contingent than ever 
as a result of their growing separation from me-and so is my presence as artist. 
Journal oftbe Association for Research on Mothering / 115 
Leslie Reid 
Leslie Reid, "Calumet: Dive," 2002, 8 " x  12'; chromogenicprint. 
Leslie Reid, "Calumet: Splash," 2002, 8 " x  12: chromogenicprint. 
Can I continue to work with these issues of maternal ambivalence as the 
relationship changes so dramatically? My work now seems coloured by a 
longing for a time available only in memory. The present asserts itself with 
harsh insistence. Their startlingly deep voices and large bodies fill the house. 
I am more and more the watcher, a presence less visible. This has created 
a disturbing shift in my work. I seem to be editing my mothering relationship 
116 / Volume 5, Number 1 
out of the visual field in so many ways. Not only do we aging mothers of 
adolescents become invisible, we are supposed to accept this as inevitable and 
desirable. 
No one can truly describe the extraordinary rush of emotion that comes 
with birth; equally, none of the stories I heard prepared me for the teenage 
individuation mothering experience. I find myself resisting while dealing with 
great need, impatience, hostility, grandiosity. 
I am searching for the parallels in my work 
Leslie Reid, "Calumet: Salute,"2002, 8 " x  12: chromogenicprint. 
I have found little to dispel my growing discomfort at the seeming 
inevitably of my disappearance. Not only am I destined to bow out or be pushed 
out, but I will be viewed as the all-engulfing monster no matter what I do. The 
psychoanalytic literature is not very encouraging for mothers of teens. (Even 
Freud chose to ignore mothers and teens. I think he had an eye on his career.) 
Teens are everywhere in the culture-driving it in many areas such as in 
music, film, video, fashion-and I watch helplessly the consumerisation of an 
entire age group. Yet, other than teen-management and tough-love help books 
(which don't seem to help anyway) it is hard to find a serious study ofwhat is 
arguably the most turbulent and contradictory period of our mothering lives. 
Delving into issues of maternal ambivalence in my painting was intensely 
affirming when dealing with my sons when they were younger, but as our 
relationship shifts, the ambivalence as I explored it in those works has also 
shifted, and absence has taken on a very different meaning. 
It  has become even more urgent to locate myself in my work. 
How does this conflicted period translate into work? Much to my chagrin, 
with as great difficulty as the relationships themselves. I had optimistically 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 11 7 
assumed that I could at least hold my own, hang onto what was properlymine- 
my work. But the struggles of adolescent individuation and teenage separation 
have accompanied me to the studio, and their images, once viewed more 
innocently, now seem taunting, challenging-hold onto us if you can. 
We grieve as mothers because we know that however loving and close our 
relationships have been, our sons-and our daughters-are encouraged to 
discard us, and we let go. Finding the threads that still connect if not bind, 
before the inevitable feelings of"too1ate" set in, has become an issue in mywork. 
Am I moving towards memory or am I already there? 
A student once asked me what I would do as my children got older. Would 
I be doing paintings of my 22-year-old children or would I endlessly rifle 
through the baby snapshots and relive the past. It was a difficult but reasonable 
question and one that I now ask myself as my sons at age 18 and 15 are grown 
up, somewhat allergic to cameras, and never home. 
But, of course, my paintings are not a study of them; they are about the 
critical space ofthe mother-child relationship. Art about children moves in and 
out of fashion, but art about the mothering experience has not had much 
positive critical attention-when it has attracted any notice at all. 
I have been sensitive to my sons' reactions to being used so publicly, and 
while they expressed a certain shy reservation at the outset, though their 
identities are not obvious, I think that, as well as being reassured that they 
appear anonymously, they have become increasingly quite taken by the idea of 
their inclusion in my work-a connection that has taken on significant 
meaning for them. (They have also mentioned modeling fees.) 
At the same time, even as our relationship is intrinsic to my work, the work 
is separate from them. It is my accomplishment that is visible, and this has the 
added value, as Babette Smith (1995) has noted, of allowing them to view my 
accomplishments apart from themselves, unrelated to raising them, and they 
can thus avoid the ambivalence of assessing my success in raising them. 
It is critical for me to acknowledge my lived experience as mother in my 
work as painter. Acknowledgement of that experience is essential to the 
understanding of why art is made at all. As for my teenagers and me, I know 
our relationship will endure, altered but ongoing. Perhaps it will exist as what 
anthropologist Sarah Hrdy (1999) has likened to a phantom limb. 
It is up to us as mothers to reclaim connection, and in the new paintings 
of transition, it is that connectedness, mercurial, paradoxical and essential, that 
I will continue to explore. 
References 
Hrdy, Sarah Blaffer. 1999. MotherNature. New York: Ballentine Books. 
Rich, Adrienne. 1986. Of Woman Born. New York: W.W. Norton. 
Smith, Babette. 1995. Mothers and Sons. St Leonards, NSW Australia: M e n  
and Unwin. 
118 1 Volume 5, Number l 


Afterimage: A Photographic Journal of Making Art and Mothering Teens

Fothergill, Alice

Feltey, Kathryn

"I’ve Worked Very Hard and Slept Very Little": Mothers on Tenure Track in Academia

Davies, Linda

Krane, Julia

Making Mothers Visible: Implications for Social Work Practice and Education in Child Welfare

Haleman, Diana L.

Diana L. Haleman 
Old Photograph 
Pictures capture faces like words capture thoughts, 
Scraps of paper holding fragments of time. 
Your eyes piercing blue, my dress flowered and lace-trimmed. 
One kiss among thousands captured forever in ink on paper. 
Where do moments go? 
Do kisses disappear somewhere between a mother's lips and her baby's hair? 
How could I kiss an infant then and turn around and kiss a nineteen-year old 
With just a breath between? 
110 1 Volume 5, Number I 


Old Photograph

Duquaine-Watson, Jillian

All You Need is Love: Representations of Maternal Emotion in Working Mother Magazine, 1995-1999

Harries, Joyce

Joyce Harries 
How to Leave Mothering 
You can't 
when all of a sudden 
your children age 
you've stopped buying 
baby powder pablum diapers 
you've stopped folding piles of bluejeans 
and listening for teenage nighttime footsteps 
Bite your tongue 
you can't say you forgot your mittens your homework your manners 
Only think ofthe sweet smell of a tiny baby fresh bathed pajama-clad bodies 
reading aloud giggles from tickling goodnight kisses 
think of a door bursting open "I'm home I've brought a friend any cookies?" 
think of their glowing faces after they jumped in a jolly jumper first drank 
through a straw 
printed their name hammered a nail skipped bounced a ball playedTwinkle 
Twinkle 
Little Star on the piano rode a wobbling two-wheeler watched fireworks 
made Rice Krispie squares put a pony over a jump emerged from puberty 
played old maid 
monopoly poker got their drivers license went on their first date graduated 
from high school from university married gave you grandchildren 
Quote anything correctly to them shorten your stories don't talk about your 
life unless you've been robbed taken to the hospital won a lottery or award 
preface statements with "dear" 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering / 119 
Think about Christmas when they were young how tired you were bite your 
tongue in daughters' or sons' kitchens where turkey is still turkey on 
someone else's platter 
Think of those late night talks at the kitchen table with tea and cookies when 
they asked your advice now they dispense it bite your tongue smile and 
thank them 
Remember measles chicken-pox band aids crutches vomit diarrhea earaches 
hospital emergency line ups but remember rocking humming stroking 
patting laughter joy 
You still can visit give them jars of homemake soup marmalade flowers and 
books worry about them love them their spouses and children 
and bite your tongue 
This poem was written after reading "How to Leave Saskatchewan" by Ruth 
Anderson Donovan 
120 1 Volume 5, Number l 


How to Leave Mothering