Every Kind of Mother, Every Kind of Love

Our motherhoods don’t have to look alike to be respected.
They don’t have to look alike to be cherished.
They don’t have to look alike to be deeply, fully valued.

There is no one right way to mother.

And yet when we talk about “good mothers” in this society, what usually comes to mind is a narrow and rigid image:
A white, middle-class woman. Heterosexual. Married. Living in a nuclear family. Likely staying at home, or working just enough to seem productive but not so much that her mothering seems compromised.

That’s the story most people have been sold.
That’s the mold many of us were told to strive for—or were shamed for never fitting.

But that story was never the whole truth.
It was always too small for us. Too rigid. Too white. Too built on colonial, capitalist, heteropatriarchal ideals that prioritize containment over care, productivity over presence, and control over connection.

Mothering happens in kitchens and courtrooms, in shelters and subways, on front porches and prison phone calls.
It happens in love and in grief.
It happens in community, in resistance, and sometimes in deep, aching isolation.

Mothering is mothering is mothering.

It is not only a role…it is a practice. A way of tending life.
And it does not belong solely to one identity, or one race, or one family structure.

So much love to all the teen mothers…navigating two kinds of becoming at once, often in a world that wants them to fail.
So much love to all the mothers raising children from different partners…crafting constellations of care from complex stories.
So much love to the mothers with incarcerated children, who still show up to love, even when systems try to disappear that love.
So much love to the mothers who parent alone, not by choice, or by choice, and in full strength either way.
So much love to the mothers who are partnered but still feel alone, carrying the weight of it all while appearing “supported.”
So much love to the mothers who are fully supported and know what a gift and a right that is.
So much love to the stepmothers who step up and step in…with tenderness, even in the face of tension.
So much love to the mothers who mother children not “biologically” theirs…through kinship, care work, and community.
So much love to the mothers whose children are no longer here, whose grief is a form of love that never stops moving.

Our mothering deserves to be seen in all its forms.
Not judged by how well it fits the fantasy.
But honored for its depth, its beauty, its resilience, and its power.

So much love to all the mothers…wherever and however you show up in the world.
Your story is valid. Your way is worthy.
You are needed. You are seen.
You are dope.