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My Nani (grandmother) used to hum a lullaby to my cousins and me, and its melody was as familiar as the scent of her sari. “A mother’s love is endless,” it crooned. “A mother's love is ever flowing, like a river, not changing for all time. When needed by her children, a mother’s love will shine.” My mother embodied this ideal in her heart. Her whole life revolved around us, her children.
Yet as I grew older, I saw the longing in her eyes— a yearning for dreams left unfulfilled by a woman who bore all burdens silently. The image of a self-sacrificing mother who never voiced complaints, raised questions within me— is this all motherhood entails? A one-way journey of sacrifices without personal aspirations or dreams to follow?
Our society holds this image of the ideal mother on a pedestal: the self-sacrificing figure who dedicates her life to her children. This image, deeply rooted in our patriarchal structure, celebrates mothers who tirelessly put their children’s needs before their own.
But what about the mothers who choose to step outside this mold or are forced by circumstance? The working mothers, the single mothers, the mothers who yearn for a fulfilling career alongside raising children.
She was grappled with a constant guilt of missing her child’s first steps because of a meeting, and bedtime stories getting replaced by emails. “A good mother always prioritizes her children.”
But can’t a mother be both a successful professional and a loving mom? Shouldn’t motherhood allow for that too? Shouldn’t it be a journey of self-discovery along with nurturing another life?
Motherhood in Bangladesh often feels de-individualised. It wasn’t just my mom raising me or my Nani before that. It was a village, a community, with its own set of unwritten rules. Grandmothers dispensed age-old remedies, aunts offered unsolicited advice, and neighbors kept a watchful eye at every step.
The suitcase, a symbol of escape, sat by the door, that tempted my mother with the promise of individuality, the independence she longs for but maybe it was my grasp on her sari that gave her the life inside of these four walls. The suitcase, packed and ready by the door, was the potential route for opportunity and a new life for my mother. But the whirlwind of love and guilt she felt towards her family, was the only shackle keeping her "within four walls”.
We forget pretty easily that a mother is not merely a caretaker; she is also a dreamer, an achiever, and a human who has her own aspirations outside of the circle of home.
We forget pretty easily that a mother is not merely a caretaker; she is also a dreamer, an achiever, and a human who has her own aspirations outside of the circle of home. A BRAC report reveals that only 36% of Bangladeshi women are employed. Another study suggests 27% of women leave the RMG sector within five years, partly due to family reasons (The Financial Express, 2024) This declined figure probably relates to the cultural shame associated with working mothers and the lack of affordable childcare options.
The scarcity of cost-effective childcare options, coupled with the societal expectations that position fathers primarily as providers rather than co-parents, perpetuates a false dichotomy. This narrative has forged a perception of mothers as beings separate from their own aspirations and desires, expected to dedicate their existence solely to their offspring. Any departure from this prescribed role is unfairly seen as a mark of maternal failure. My Nani’s generation internalized the self-sacrificing ideal and my generation questions it. The answer isn’t a rebellion against motherhood, but a revolution in how we view it. Where the suitcase will be filled not with escape, but with the aspiration to build a life where duty and desire coexist, beautifully intertwined.
So, can mothers have it all? The answer, in our current social framework, seems like a resounding no. But what if the question itself is flawed? Can’t we envision a society where mothers are celebrated for their multifaceted identities, where their dreams and ambitions are seen as equally important as their nurturing roles?
Let's be honest, there's a certain beauty to the idea of nurturing a tiny human, tiny hands holding you, crying and giggling all the time. The thought of that unconditional love and sacrifice, it's powerful. But then the reality sets in. My mom is constantly bombarded with images of "perfect mothers”, adding to the societal pressure to have it all together, which sinks my heart. I could never imagine myself on the same pedestal my mom put her whole life on. Motherhood might mean putting some dreams on hold, but it shouldn't feel like sacrificing my entire soul.
The truth is that motherhood is messy, and there's no one-size-fits-all answer. It's time to ditch the myth of the self-sacrificing mother altogether and recognize motherhood in a different light.
We need a society that celebrates mothers who pursue their passions and break free from the shackles of guilt. Motherhood shouldn’t define a woman’s worth, nor limit her dreams. We need affordable childcare, parental leave for all genders, and a society that values caregiving equally to paid work, one that acknowledges a mother’s happiness is not a luxury but a necessity.
The lullaby that Nani sang, I still hold it dearly as she passed on the silk saris but with a new interpretation. A mother’s love can still be a river, but it shouldn’t flow at the expense of her own dreams. For a different kind of motherhood, we need a different kind of society, one that empowers mothers to wear the Sari of motherhood as well as carry a Suitcase filled with passion and dreams to be their whole selves. Only then a mother can show her children that a mother’s love expands, not diminishes, with her own pursuit of happiness.
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