PP

Sigh. I was interested, I wanted to read this, but then –

Mine is a predictable photo album – a baby transforms across a camera roll from limpid mole to Ian Hislop in leggings, kittens simper beside screengrabs of news stories, pink cake, a very big plum. It was the juxtaposition of three pictures that documented April though, that pricked my fury. A photo taken from our car of one of the anti-vaccine marches that shut down London sat beside a headline that pregnant people were finally being offered the coronavirus vaccine, then a picture of my son’s first birthday party.

Her son gets to be her son, Ian Hislop gets to be Ian Hislop, but pregnant women aren’t allowed to be pregnant women, they have to be concealed behind “pregnant people” just as elsewhere they’re concealed by yards of cloth.

And it’s spreading. A New Yorker Talk of the Town piece a few weeks ago about Sarah Hoover, a former director of the Guggenheim Gallery who gave a lecture there called “Maternal Instincts: An Art Historical Review of Motherhood.”

“I had terrible postpartum depression and anxiety,” she said. “It ended. But it actually gave birth to a whole new me in the end. I wrote about how I opened up all the cracks in the narrative around motherhood for me, and I really want to change it all. I want women – and people who give birth, who are not all women – “

So I don’t care how she finishes her sentence or what the rest of the piece says, because you can’t do both. You can’t pretend you’re doing this for women and then hastily throw a dropcloth over them. I don’t care how she wants to change the narrative, because she just betrayed the whole idea.

Women have been colonized, again.

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