To a dear friend who asked me a few years ago if I was going to have children, I answered this: “There are mothers who are lucky enough to have children, and there are others who are mothers even without children. I’m sure I’m a mother. But I don’t know if I will have children. »
Every Mother’s Day, I think of all those who are hurt by this day. Whenever anyone feels offended by the very name of the Mothers at the Frontline movement, which I helped to create, I am deeply sorry for the nagging misunderstanding that suggests that our heartfelt impulse to protect the younger generations is exclusive to those who have the privilege of growing small living creatures. Even if we repeat it on all the platforms, even if among our most involved members are people without children, even if the form of the organization is designed so that each and everyone who recognizes themselves in the values that we defend can appropriate this vehicle to demand from our leaders a livable future, there is a deep flaw that hides in this word, “mother”, for each and every one of us. It is this fault and this wound which is at the source of the force of the movement. It is also she who in spite of us bruises some of our natural allies.
It is with immense love that we will always respond to all those who unfortunately feel excluded by this word: you are at home here. This movement is yours. And more importantly: our children are also yours.
Come take care of them with us, come fight for them with us, we are waiting for you with open arms. We need you. We need your strengths, your voices, your wounds and your lights.
To see in video