Why can’t we get through a week without a scare-tactic headline or published study that tells us how royally we’re screwing up? By Heather Wood Rudúlph and Athena D. Williams

It was only a matter of time that breastfeeding was linked to cancer. The American Institute for Cancer Research recommended in a recent report that women breast-feed exclusively for up to six months. Evidence shows that women who breast-feed are less likely to develop breast cancer later on, it said. Plus, breast-fed children are at a reduced risk of developing the fat cells that contribute to the onset of cancer.

Yes, the cancer card.

It’s not enough for me to have to worry about Ahmadinejad possessing nuclear capabilities, or the creepy guy at the gym who keeps sneaking peeks at my ass, or that two fat birds can take down a multi-ton plane. And let’s not forget the economy. Now I’m supposed to worry about getting breast cancer because I didn’t breast-feed my child for the recommended amount of time?

That neurosis is going to have to take a number. Right now I’m thinking I might need therapy before I’m able to fly again. I’ll get to worrying about dropping dead of breast cancer because I failed my child in about six or seven years — if I’m still alive. In the mean time: Don’t call me, I’ll call you.

The hysteria is constant; the content is interchangeable. There’s always the next thing to worry about. Studies never stop showing … something scary. And, all of this anxiety can’t be good for the developing mind. Which makes me wonder: What is the cost of molding a perfect child?

Sixty years ago, Dr. Kenneth Clark conducted an experiment on the psychological effects of segregation on black children. The main part of his research involved dolls. An overwhelming number of the black children in the study preferred the while doll to her black counterpart. It was a widely publicized study that led to the banishment of the white doll from the standard black household.

After Raggedy Ann and Andy, I never received another white doll. Cue violins. I never had a Barbie, but, God, I loved her. I wanted her to come and play with me so bad. At least once a week, I would sneak into the neighborhood toy store to hold the box; I’d run my fingers up and down over the plastic. I was insanely jealous of my friends who had her. I’d spend the entire visit acting out scenarios that involved the two of us. The friend was inconsequential in my fantasy mind; it was Barbie I was interested in getting to know.

To appease me, my parents bought me a black-Barbie-doll-like family. They looked like sharecroppers. I was supposed to imagine them going on great adventures and having passionate sex? No one wants to fantasize about sharecroppers having sex.

I revisited my unrequited love for Barbie when I had my daughter. She had every color Barbie, as well as the house, camera, and the pink Volkswagen bug. When she outgrew them, together we collected all 20 naked Barbies and donated them to the Salvation Army. That day, I was finally able to say goodbye without bitterness in my heart.

I understand why my parents made their decision regarding black dolls. They were trying to do the right thing because the study said so. But they were incapable of seeing past their rigid ideology to understand that I didn’t want to be white, I just wanted a Barbie. So, in honor of that little girl who still lives inside of me, I’m making a conscious choice to step back from the hysteria.

I’m tired of feeling like a terrible parent every time I turn on the television or open a newspaper. The breast-feeding coalition is just the latest group whose expectations I’ve failed to meet, but there have been plenty of others. The problem is: I have an actual child to raise and sometimes I freak her out. Last week, a “D” on her science exam was all it took for me to picture her as a corner crack-whore in 10 years. It is past time for me to lighten up. The next time she picks a grossly tacky item of clothing from the rack I will try to bite my tongue. In that moment, I hope to remember that the most I can ever ask from my daughter or myself is that we do the best we can.

I really do hope that my failure to breast-feed my child doesn’t result in cancer, for her or for me. There’s no way to know until it happens — or doesn’t. For now, I’ll place the possibility in the back of my mind with the rest of the pronouncements of doom and gloom. But no matter how I raise her, there will always be variables that are out of my control. We live in an unstable world. Sully won’t always be guiding the plane and the fat birds will continue to fly. —ADW

It does seem like every day there’s another reason to not leave the house (or even get out of bed) because something’s lurking that will make us sick, alter our genes, or possibly end our lives. I can take the end-of-days hysteria, as it’s always been just that: hysteria. What really bothers me are all the reports and studies seemingly conducted for the sole purpose of scaring or blaming women.

We’re either terrible would-be mothers because we wait too long to have babies, too ambitious, not ambitious enough, a perfect homemaker who is forced to feel guilty for not putting herself first, or a selfish career bitch who dared to prioritize her life goals above procreation.

The worst are the surveys (or simple critiques) concerning our ability to properly parent (not to mention the forced standard that all women should have — and want — children). I am not yet a mother, but because my ovaries are of baby-making age (another fact — panic! concern! — I am constantly reminded of), I am tuned in to the mommy wars published everywhere from the Time to TMZ.

One breezy blogger on MomLogic (TMZ’s sister site, and it reads just like it) recently found a somewhat ridiculous way to tie race in to breast-feeding. Societal inequities in some minority communities (lack of education, proper formula, healthcare, or cash reserves) notwithstanding, breast-feeding is a mom/child issue, period. The last time a few “experts” and the media intervened in the breast-feeding debate, they turned Baby Boomer mothers into formula feeders for fear of infant mortality or illness linked to breast milk. Now breast-feeding lobbyists insist it’s the only way to produce an intellectually adequate baby.

Many women of my generation were never breast-fed and I don’t think I could pick them out in a lineup, or single them out in an intellectual conversation. The point is: The Borg we call the societal norm shouldn’t dictate any absolute.

I was breast-fed. In fact, my mother breast-fed all six of her children. None of us went to Ivy League schools — which had more to do with lack of Ivy-League funding than Ivy-League smarts. But we grew up normal and comparable to all of our peers, many of whom were raised on formula. My mother is one who would advocate for breast-feeding only. But I reserve the right to make that decision for myself. I’ve heard too many tales from miserable breast-feeding mothers (and have followed the improvements in baby formula) for me to decide, absolutely, what I’ll do.

But my even considering the option to not exclusively breast-feed would incite a fiery debate (go ahead, debate below). Hanna Rosin equates the breastfeeding vs. formula tête-à-tête to gang violence, calling it a turf war in her recent Atlantic Monthly article. In the piece, Rosin recalled her expressing doubt over breast-feeding her third child, citing improvements in formula and lack of time and energy to go through the 24/7 routine again. She was shunned as if she had confessed to beating her children.

It’s another example of “perfect moms” projecting their ideal onto other women: Baby comes first, everything else (happiness, intimacy, a stable marriage or social life) are inconsequential to rearing that ideal child.

No one knows the formula for raising that supposed ideal. Some of our most brilliant minds survived some of the most deplorable conditions (crack houses, sexual abuse, extreme poverty…). Perhaps it’s that very struggle that makes them great. But none of their biographies discuss whether or not their mothers fostered their intellect through breast-feeding. —HWR

How do you feel about breast-feeding: Necessary for proper child-development, or another social standard rooted in peer pressure? Let us know below.

Next on “The Reflex”: Multiracial is the new Black… and White.

Heather Wood Rudúlph is co-founder and editor of SirensMag.com. Athena D. Williams is a writer and teacher in Long Beach, California

For Further Reading: How to Comb Your Black Baby’s Hair, Money, Men & Moral Limits

Social Bookmarks:

Tags: breast-feeding, breastfeeding, career vs. family, feminism, headlines, mommy wars, motherhood, sirens, the reflex

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 30th, 2009 at 6:50 pm and is filed under Soapbox. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.