“I wanted to learn to write, which was ultimately, still as my mother had taught me, a confrontation with my own innocence, my own rationalizations. Poetry was the processing of my own thoughts until the slag of justification fell away and I was left with the cold steel truths of life.”

Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me

this blog serves as an online journal for me to think through my writing, my issues with my mother, and my issues with being a mother. in all three areas, i need a place to rage, vent, but also to think through analytically why a story isn’t working, why i’m so angry at my mother, what it means to be a mom. inextricable from these is the investigation I need to do into my own mind:  representation, feminism, misogyny, whiteness, America, failure, aging, alcohol … it’s a long list.

I make most posts public, because I would love to connect, and because I want the words to be out there, in case some one needs to hear them. When I do make a post private, I do so because I am developing a story or essay I might want to publish. But when I say that this blog serves as an online journal, I mean that I am looking for nothing less than a place to be completely honest. I don’t want to think about web traffic, or what people may like to read. I do marketing for a nonprofit, so while I think connecting to the right audience matters, I also, on a personal level, need a space which is free from these considerations. I need a place to be honest in a way that public life does not allow. And I need the freedom to be wrong, because I am wrong a lot. Already some of the early posts embarrass me, but I want those thoughts out there as well, so that i can see and acknowledge where I am small, petty, clumsy.

on the title of this blog:as a mom you become god or at least you are expected to be god. this isn’t something i hear people talk about except in how they do not say it: the expectations we place on mothers on the immediate/personal level and also on the cultural level. But also on a very physical and real way: as mom, infants and toddlers need you to step in and save the day.

to riff on oppenheimer: i am become mom the creator of worlds