Motherhood | Maternidad

By Sayuri Loza, Brujula Digital:

The unfortunate statements made by a national authority have opened the door to a debate that is good to revisit constantly because, like all facets of human life, it often evolves in unexpected ways: motherhood.

I would like to begin by clarifying that I defend, have defended, and will defend the choice—both female and male—of how many children one wishes to have, or whether one wishes to have them at all; none of these options should require any greater justification than simple will. There is no need to justify it, because it is not a crime but a life choice.

Having said that, I would like to talk about motherhood before the arrival of contraceptives with more than 90% effectiveness, when it was much more difficult to decide to have children or when to have them.

If we think, for example, about prehistory, women were constantly pregnant as soon as they reached fertile age; there was no birth control and maternal and infant mortality was high. Since then, ancient societies saw population growth as something positive, since it meant labor to build, produce, and wage war; in the ancient world, wealth was not found in land but in how many people you had to work it. That is precisely where the verse from Genesis 1:28 comes from: “Be fruitful and multiply.”

As can be seen, having children was something positive and, the more there were, the better. The ancients were not concerned with earning a doctorate, acquiring property, or being emotionally prepared to become parents as we are today; instead, they relied on the practical idea that it was the path of life and that, in fact, having a large family was a divine blessing.

Thus Genesis 22:17 says: “I will surely multiply your descendants as the stars of the sky and as the sand on the seashore”; this blessing is granted to Abraham by God as one of His chosen. Later we can see in the Bible several women who suffer because they cannot conceive, or unexpected pregnancies such as that of the mother of John the Baptist or that of the Virgin Mary.

Reproduction was considered so important that the Romans accused the Carthaginians of sacrificing their firstborn to the god Moloch as proof of their abominable culture, all of this reinforced in the nineteenth century by works of fiction such as Salammbô by Flaubert—although we will never really know to what extent such accusations are true, since records beyond what the Romans tell us have been lost and archaeology provides ambiguous answers for the moment.

And the examples continue: from myths in which Zeus impregnates every woman he encounters, to the Assyrians and their need to eliminate family clans, both forward (killing the children) and backward (destroying ancestral tombs). There has always been a strong ancient need to sustain and keep bloodline legacies alive.

On this side of the Atlantic things were not very different, although archaeologists have found a couple of disturbing things in the ancient Viscachani culture which, apparently, used the elimination of infants under one year of age in the Sica Sica lagoon as a form of population control, something that can be explained by the scarcity of food in our arid region; births were well regarded by the Andean peoples, to the point that in Aymara the term used for the noun poor, wajcha, literally means “orphan” (that is, someone who does not belong to a family); while qamiri, which means rich, comes from qamaña or life; something like saying that those who bring the most life are those who count the most lives in their family.

Jumping to modern times, things began to change and women started to appear who did not wish to be mothers or housewives, so they entered convents, changed their identities and lived disguised as men or—the most privileged—took advantage of their economic status and used legal tricks to avoid marriage and, consequently, motherhood, which at that time were deeply linked.

Meanwhile, the rest of the women had no choice but to bear the children life gave them and make it part of their daily routine. This condition is difficult to understand for the generations of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

The famous Xica da Silva had 13 children with the commander João Fernandes in 15 years of relationship, but contemporary fiction omits mentioning such a thing because mass media convey the idea that a beautiful woman loses her beauty the more children she has. Spectacle and protagonists with many children do not get along very well.

Today technology increasingly allows women to choose whether they want children, whether they do not want them, or when they want to have them, etc. Little by little this capacity for choice is spreading, but as often happens, technology travels faster than ideas and many people are still unable to conceive that a woman without children has no reason to exist—fortunately, they are fewer and fewer.

But it turns out that radical currents have also emerged that demonize motherhood as if it were an imposition of the patriarchy against which one must rebel, forgetting that motherhood is simply one of the capacities of women. There are undoubtedly also women whose dream since childhood was to have children and raise them, and that does not make them less intelligent or valuable than those who dreamed of becoming civil servants, businesswomen, academics, or whatever else. And finally, there are those whose dreams encompassed both facets and who have achieved it with effort, perhaps not perfectly, but with the pride of knowing they did not allow themselves to be overwhelmed by the whims of life.

Sayuri Loza is a historian.

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