Mother’s Day Was Never Meant to Be This…

Mother’s Day didn’t begin with flowers, cards, or brunch.

It began with war, grief, organizing, and resistance.

In this powerful episode of Rethinking Freedom, we uncover the true origins of Mother’s Day—from Ann Reeves Jarvis organizing mothers during the American Civil War, to Julia Ward Howe calling for mothers to unite against war, to Anna Jarvis fighting the commercialization of the very holiday she created.

But we don’t stop there.

This episode centers the global power of motherhood—from African traditions where Nneka means “Mother is greater”, to Indigenous systems where mothers held political authority, to modern-day movements led by mothers demanding justice for their children.

We explore:

👉 The radical history of Mother’s Day
👉 How capitalism transformed a movement into a marketplace
👉 The real cost of motherhood (economic, physical, emotional)
👉 Black, Brown, Indigenous, and global mothers who turned grief into activism
👉 A powerful “Support Mothers” action plan you can apply today

Featuring insights connected to The Joys of Motherhood and the lived realities of mothers across generations.

This is not just a celebration.

This is a reckoning.

✊🏾 FEATURED THEMES & FIGURES
Mamie Till-Mobley
Coretta Scott King
Betty Shabazz
Mothers of the Movement
Mothers Against Drunk Driving
Black Mamas Matter Alliance
🔥 WHY THIS EPISODE MATTERS

Because mothers are celebrated one day a year…

while the systems that burden them operate every day.

And if mothers are not supported…

are they truly free?

📻 LISTEN + FOLLOW

📅 Airs Mondays at 7 AM CST
📡 KRGN 98.5 FM | KVBM 104.7 FM
🎧 Available on all podcast platforms

💬 JOIN THE CONVERSATION

If this episode moved you:

👉 LIKE
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Let’s rethink freedom—together.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Good morning, this is Aya Fubarainelli, and this is Rethinking Freedom. And today we are speaking about Mothers in continuation of Mother's Day, which was celebrated in the United States of America on May 10th. But we are not speaking about the version that perhaps you have been sold. Not the flowers, not the cards, not the carefully curated images of joy without struggle. Today we're going to tell the truth. Because Mother's Day was never meant to be comfortable. It was born out of war, out of grief, out of women who had buried their children prematurely. Actually, a mother should never have to bury their child. Women who refuse to stay silent. So as we embark on this journey into the history of Mother's Day and some other parts of the world called Mothering Sunday, let me ask you this. What does it mean to be a mother in a world that does not protect mothers? Think of all the war zones. Think of all the pictures and images that you see of women cradling ill and dying children. What is the cost of motherhood? Not symbolically, but materially, emotionally, physically. As a mother of five living children and five others who are now on the other side, God knows I can speak about the scars. What does freedom look like through the eyes of a mother? Before we even get into Mother's Day in America, we must go further back. I urge you to go further back with me. Because in many cultures, especially across Africa and indigenous societies, motherhood was not minimized. It was sacred. It was power. Among the Igbo people of Nigeria, motherhood occupied an exalted position spiritually and socially. There is a name in the Igbo language which I speak called Neka. It means mother is supreme, mother is greater. And that idea was not symbolical, just it wasn't just about symbolism. It was structural. There are other Igbo concepts that reflect the same reverence. Nibundu, mother is life. Mothers were seen as protectors of lineage and moral teachers. Elder women held influence through women's councils and market systems. Long before the invention of feminism on Western shores, women and mothers were celebrated in other cultures. Motherhood was tied to governance, to economy, and ethics. Women gathered collectively to support one another through pregnancy, through childbirth, naming ceremonies, rituals and songs, communal feasts. Motherhood was never meant to be isolated. It was supported and honored. And perhaps most powerfully, there was a practice known as sitting on a man. A form of collective protest where women, especially mothers and elder women, would publicly challenge injustice. This was political power. Think about what is now known as the Aba women's riot, which extended beyond Aba and extended beyond just evil women. In Ghana, with the Akan traditions, lineage was often matrilineal. Inheritance and identity passed through the mother. And most importantly, queen mothers, we don't have king fathers, but we have queen mothers, held real authority. They advised the kings. They influenced succession, and they acted as the moral guardians of their communities. Motherhood was governance, not relegated to the shadows and celebrated just one day a year. In Yoruba traditions, they have a concept called Ia Mother, which extends beyond biology. Elder women were revered as community mothers whether they had biologically had children or not. And spiritual motherhood was linked to wisdom and protection. And even within spirituality, you see the orishas. The orisha Yamoya represents divine motherhood, fertility, nurturing, protection. And there were festivals honoring this feminine spiritual being before colonial influence. Of course, in Greek mythology, you have goddesses like Aphrodite and Diana. In ancient Kemet, motherhood was divine. Figures like Isis, Hathor were honored in festivals celebrating fertility and healing, protection, maternal devotion. Isis in particular became one of the most revered mother figures in human history for protecting her child, for restoring life, for embodying that concept of divine motherhood. And of course, there were indigenous traditions beyond Africa. Among many nations in indigenous North America and traditions, mothers held spiritual authority. They were seen as sacred life givers. Leadership structures included what we will today call clan mothers. Amongst the group called the Iroquois, the Hadunasoni, clan mothers could appoint and remove chiefs. That was power. Amongst the Andean cultures, motherhood is tied to Pachamama, Mother Earth. She represents fertility, agriculture, balance, life itself. And she was honored through offerings and rituals and communal ceremonies. So understand this carefully and clearly. There was a time when motherhood was not reduced to mere sentiment. It was spiritual authority, it was political influence, ancestral continuity, and sacred power. Mothers were not celebrated once a year. They were central to society itself. You know, as a young teenager, I read a book written by Bucchi Emecheta called The Joys of Motherhood. It was a really ironic title because as I read that novel, the reality was quite different from what the title would suggest. In this novel, we meet Nuego, Nuegu, a woman who believes that motherhood would fulfill her, but instead, motherhood consumes her. She talks about the exhaustion, the sacrifice, the invisibility, and in the end, very little recognition. Because the truth is that the societies in which we live in today, while we say we glorify motherhood, which we actually do is extract everything from mothers. So let's bring it back to the United States and the origin of what we now celebrate as Mother's Day. It didn't just start out of the blue. And some of you may not be aware of this story. And so I will hasten to share some of the details about Mother's Day. Mother's Day, even here in the United States of America, actually began as a women's movement to better the lives of Americans. Its forgotten origins actually spring from some activist who championed efforts towards better health, welfare, and wouldn't you know, peace. So we would have to go back to 1887 with Mary Towes Sassine, who was a teacher in Henderson, Kentucky. And she led her class in what is arguably the first known observance of Mother's Day here in the United States of America. She published a pamphlet about her vision for S Day to share with others, and she traveled the country to educational gatherings to promote the observance as a national holiday, primarily in public schools. And she had a suggested date of April 20th, which was her mother's birthday. Schools in several states, including in Springfield, Ohio, adopted the idea. But Mary died in 1906 before her dream of a national holiday was realized. In 1926, the Kentucky legislature did pass a resolution acclaiming Mary as the originator of the idea of the celebration of Mother's Day here in the United States. But again, remember, we have a tradition across the world before the inception of the United States of America of honoring and censoring women and mothers. The creation of a National Mother's Day in the United States of America is attributed primarily to three women, Anne Reeves Jarvis, Julia Ward Howe, and Anne's daughter Anna M. Jarvis. Known as Mother Jarvis, Anne Reeves Jarvis was a young Appalachian mother, a homemaker who taught Sunday school lessons. She was also an activist who in the mid-1800s organized Mother's Day Work Clubs in West Virginia. What was their goal? To combat unsanitary living conditions. Mother Jervis was concerned about the high infant mortality rate, especially pervasive in Appalachia, and she wanted to educate and help mothers who needed it the most. Now, during the Civil War, she organized women's brigades, encouraging women to help without regard to which side their men had chosen to fight on. After the war, she proposed a Mother's Friendship Day to promote peace between former Union and Confederate families. We will save the politics for another day. Today I'm concentrating on the inception of Mother's Day as we know it. Now, Julia Ward Howe was a famous poet and a reformer. During the Civil War, she volunteered for the U.S. Sanitary Commission, helping them to provide hygienic environments for hospitals and to ensure that there were sanitary conditions to take care of the sick and wounded soldiers. Some may know her for the famous Civil War anthem, the battle hymn of the Republic. Of course, that was published, I believe, in February of 1862, if I'm not mistaken. Around 1870, Julia Ward Howe called for a Mother's Day for Peace, dedicated to the celebration of peace and the eradication of war. In her proclamation, her Mother's Day proclamation, she felt that women should gather to prevent the cruelty of war and the waste of life, since mankind alone bear and know the cost. The mothers of mankind. Her version of Mother's Day was held in Boston and in other locations for about 30 years. But then those celebrations ceased in the years preceding World War I. And nothing new apparently happened until 1907, when Miss Anna M. Jarvis, the daughter of Anne Jarvis, Mother Jarvis of Philadelphia, took up the banner. Her mother died in 1905, and Anne wanted to her mother's life, and she started campaigning for a national day to honor all mothers. She said, and I quote, I hope and pray that she was actually basing this on a prayer that she said her mother prayed. I hope and pray that someone sometime will find a Memorial Mother's Day commemorating her for the matchless service she renders to humanity in every field of life. Anne Jarvis felt her mother was entitled to that day and other mothers. Anne's ideas were actually less about public service and more about simply honoring the role of motherhood and the sacrifices made in the home. And she relentlessly went to public figures and various civic organizations. She wrote telegrams and letters. She had in-person discussions. She addressed large and small groups and at her own expense printed and distributed booklets, extolling her idea for Mother's Day. In May of 1907, Anna memorized her mother's lifelong activism with a memorial service held at the Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia, where her mother had taught. The following year, on May 10th, a Mother's Day service was held at that same church to acknowledge all mothers. And there was the birth of the second Sunday in May being set aside to honor every mother, whether living or deceased. Now her efforts bore fruit. The mayor of Philadelphia proclaimed the local Mother's Day. She went on to Washington, D.C. And eventually in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson signed a bill designating the second Sunday in May as a legal holiday to be called Mother's Day, dedicated to the best mother in the world, your mother. As a black woman, I wonder if he was including Black mothers, because we also know that the same racist Woodrow Wilson was instrumental in gutting the federal government of black workers and of not caring for the needs of black people, and of course, hosting the airing of the birth of a nation in the White House. For the first few days, for sorry, for the first few years, Mother's Day was observed as a legal holiday. But it was in absolute simplicity and reverence. There were church services held in honor of all mothers, living and dead. But that was soon to change because capitalism has a way of putting its claws into everything. And as the holiday went mainstream, Anne Jarvis was dismayed to see the commercialization of it all. Some of us are seeing that with the celebration of Juneteenth, which will be coming up next month. Organizations that rail against quote-unquote diversity, equity, and inclusion will nonetheless have displays for Juneteenth so that they can get people's money, even though they really do not support the people who were freed on Juneteenth as we celebrate it. So Anne Jarvis was actually upset with the sending of greeting cards and flowers. And she began to rally against Mother's Day. And Jarvis, unfortunately, died in 1948 in a sanatorium in a state of what is described as dementia. Mother's Day, of course, endures and continues to evolve. And just as Mother's Day was the creation of multiple women, we see it celebrated in a variety of ways today. But I come back to the original intent of Mother's Day and I ask, how true are we to that original idea of changing things for the better, of being proponents of peace, of fighting infant mortality and maternal mortality rates. And again, as a black woman and as a black mother, this celebration and this day gives me cause to pause because while many politicians, many institutions will send out congratulatory proclamations for Mother's Day, when you look at their actual policies and the actions they take, I wonder if they are truly celebrating women and mothers. As a matter of fact, I contend that they are not celebrating Mother's Day in a way that truly builds up women and allows women to flourish and to truly have full citizenship in this nation that we call the United States of America. So, how did you celebrate Mother's Day today or yesterday? How are you going to continue to celebrate the women in your life who are making all the difference? Julia Ward Howe specifically wrote, we will not raise sons just to send them to war. Today, Mother's Day is a 20 billion, 20 with a B billion dollar industry, while mothers are still overworked, underpaid, and too often unprotected. I ask, are mothers being supported? Are mothers being protected? And if they are not, then what exactly are we celebrating? There is so much that we can talk about as we talk and we look into the cost of motherhood. It takes by today's standards over$230,000 to raise a child. Child care rivaling rent and mortgage payments. Mothers earn less over time. Many of them are penalized if they stay home and they stay out of the workforce because then you're not paying into Social Security and you don't have certain economic opportunities, right? There's nothing undergirding you, protecting you. When you go try to go back into the workforce, the question is, what have you been doing? Right? And of course, we know we still haven't been able to pass equal pay for everyone, regardless of gender. We know that black and indigenous mothers face higher risks in childbirth, and that there's the invisible labor, the mental load, the emotional weight. Of course, a lot of these mothers are um part of what we call the sandwich generation. We are not only raising our own children, we are also raising or taking care of. The elderly in our community. We have taken care of our mothers and our fathers. And that weight of child of childbearing, child caring, and elder care fall disproportionately on the shoulders of black, brown, and indigenous women. For black women, motherhood has always been resistance from slavery to segregation to today. I can speak of so many women like Harriet Tubman, who not only sought to free herself, but then she also sought to free others and did so at considerable sacrifice to herself. At one point, there was what a$40,000 bounty on her head, like the equivalent of a million dollars, just because she wanted her people to be free. Of course, we have mothers like the mother of Emmett Till, if you will recall. Mamie Till didn't just mourn her son, she helped spark the civil rights movement when she declared that no, her son would not be buried in a closed casket. But she wanted his body brought back and displayed for the entire world to see what had been done to her child. And by doing so, she courageously exposed a nation and sparked an outrage, outrage that led to many changes when we talk about the civil rights movement. Of course, today we see the current John Roberts um court rolling back many of those protections. We have seen Roe versus Wade be overturned. We are seeing women dying because they cannot get access to quality health care, with physicians being too afraid to treat the same mothers we say we cherish and we honor. And the question is: what are we going to do differently? How are we going to vote differently? Of course, there have been many other mothers who've come together organizing for change. Mothers against drunk driving, maybe one you've heard about, founded by a mother who lost her daughter. And what she did was not sit back and just be a victim and mourn the loss of her child. But she turned her grief over policy change and helped to reshape laws across the country. We see the mothers of East Los Angeles, Latina mothers, who fought environmental racism, stopping toxic facilities from entering their neighborhoods, protecting their children's future. Again, now, if you look at the fight against data centers, you will see a great many women at the forefront making the case again that we must think about the future and future generations and calling on politicians and policymakers to not just be led by greed and capitalism, but to think of the long-term effects of their choices. We have the self-employed women's association, women, many of them mothers, organizing for fair wages, for childcare, dignity in labor. We have the Black Mamas Matter Alliance fighting for Black maternal health, demanding systems that value Black mothers' lives. We have the Native American Women's Health Education Resource Center, Indigenous mothers advocating for reproductive justice, health care access, bringing attention to hundreds and thousands of Indigenous women who are just disappearing with very little attention from the press, advocating for survival. We have the mothers of Plaza de Mayo, mothers marching for their disappeared children, turning grief into protest. Every day on my timeline, I see pictures and stories of young children who have disappeared. My gosh, where are they going? Where is our collective outrage? If we're able to go and fight and start wars in other parts of the world, where is the focus on what is happening right here in our country with our young people, with our children? Where is the centering of mothers' voices in all of that? There is so much more that we can speak about. Across the world, different languages, different histories, same truth. When systems fail, children, mothers rise. When systems fail the community, mothers rise. When systems systems threaten the environment, mothers rise. When these systems led by the patriarchy choose war over and over again, mothers rise. We see that with Fanny Lou Hamer. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. A woman who was sterilized against her will. She was not even aware that she had been sterilized. She had gone in for an appendectomy, raising children that were not hers anyway, and fighting for justice for us all. And the list goes on and on. I hope many of you tune in to the YouTube um series that I do on Wednesdays at 7 p.m. Um titled Woman in Resistance. And on this series, every single week, we highlight another woman of African descent and we share their story and what they've done to resist and to make the world a better place, not just for themselves, but for humanity. And the story continues. So how are you celebrating Mother's Day? How are you joining the throng of women through the ages who have said we will not participate in systems that destroy our children, that destroy our environment, that destroy our communities, that destroy our world. What did your Mother's Day celebration look like? And don't get me wrong, I understand that this day is one that can be very complicated for some. Friends who have lost their mothers, this might not be a day that they want to center mothers. Although I would say probably it's as good a reason as any to do so. Parent children who are ostracized by their mothers or who were who are estranged from their mothers may feel, I don't have a mother. And so what am I celebrating? But it goes deeper than that, right? Hopefully you understand that at this point. I'm thinking about the mothers of the civil rights movement. And when I'm talking about mothers of civil rights movement, I'm not just talking about the Septima Clarks, the Ella Joe Bakers, the Audrey Moores, Queen Mother Moore, who fought for many of the rights that we enjoy today. I'm also talking about those young women whose husbands were at the forefront of fighting for equal rights and civil rights and our common humanity, who were gunned down and who had to figure out how to pick up the pieces and raise their families nonetheless. Think about mothers like Corida Scott King, a young, beautiful woman with an incredible voice, who had plans to have a career as a singer. She married the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. And together they bore four children. You might remember pictures of her at her husband's funeral with a child. I believe it's Reverend Bernice, who was in her lap. Think about the pain of sacrificing your husband for justice and then figuring out how to raise your children on your own. I think of Betty Shabazz, Al-Haj Malik Shabazz's wife, better known as Malcolm X, who went on to become an educator. She was pregnant with twins when her husband was gunned down. And she went on to raise those six children in a world that did not support her or her children. Unfortunately, her life ended in tragedy. So, where again are we centering and how are we centering these women? I think of the wife of Megar Evers. I think of Aquat and Jerry. You may know her by her birth name, I believe, Deborah, the fiance and pregnant fiance of Fred Hampton, when he was gunned down in cold blood by the United States of America's government, and who birthed that child and raised him. And today he walks the earth and is continuing the work of his parents. When systems fail, when systems come against us, mothers rise. I think of all the women through captivity who nonetheless figured out a way to hold on to hope, to keep their breath, and to bring children into a world that afforded them no protection whatsoever. We should center and honor those women on this day, Mother's Day. I think of women today who are what we will call infertile, women who desire to have children and biologically can't. And I wonder how you are feeling as or how you felt as Mother's Day was celebrated. Did you feel seen? Did you feel celebrated? Because what I know for sure that has borne out in my life and in the lives of my children, you do not have to be a biological mother to be a mother. And there are many women in my life who came alongside me and parented me and held me up who were not my biological mothers. I want to lift up some of their names today. In no particular order, I'm thinking of Ngozi Izoba Okongu, who was a teacher of mine when I was in boarding school. So I met her as an 11-year-old, and she saw something in me, and she mothered me. I loved to go and run errands for her, fetch water, help clean, because while I was doing those chores, I could smell the divine food, the aroma wafting out of her kitchen into all the other areas of her home. And I knew how well I was going to eat and how much love was in that food. Still encouraging me, still telling me I can be anything my mind conceives of. Something that I had never experienced because that was not part of my culture growing up in Nigeria. I'm thinking of Lee Smith, who is still with us. Joyce is now an ancestor. And Lee Smith, who saw me one day using the payphone again at the Frank W. Hill Junior Black Cultural Center, and realized that I was crying. And she waited till I got off the call. I didn't even notice anybody was paying attention to me. And she invited me into my office into her office. I close to tears at this point, recounting the story. And um she said, How are you doing? And I broke down in the sanctuary of her office. I was worried about my brother who was going through a medical procedure. And she said, It's going to be all right. And she prayed with me. And from then till today, she continues to be an absolutely positive force in my life, always watching over me, always encouraging me, correcting me when I needed correction. Um I'm thinking of Marianne Williamson, who is also now an ancestor, unfortunately died of a brain aneurysm at the age of 45. And she would take me to the grocery store and teach me how to um pick out fruits and vegetables at just the right state of maturity. This is how you know if this watermelon is going to be sweet. You knock on it this way, and if you hear the sound, I mean, and she would take me back into her home. I still have the earrings that she gave me. Um, never expected her to pass away in the time that she did, but she introduced me to so much of my inheritance and culture as a black woman now living in America. And she made it possible for me to go to the National Black Theatre Festival in Winston-Salem, where I met Maya Angelo and Bill Dukes and Glenn Terman and um Denzel, young Denzel Washington with Paletta Washington. I think she had just had twins um shortly before that. Um, and Ruby D and Awsa Davis, and um gosh, I'm thinking um Helen Martin. Um oh my goodness, I can see her face, and I cannot remember because the name is not coming to mind right now. She did a one-woman show. Um, oh, losing, losing her name right now. But anyway, and I was just wrapped up in the love of all these older women who were seasoned with wisdom and experience. And I was 21 years old, and and and they would just allow me into these circles. Um, I did have a press pass, and so I got to go behind the scenes and and and just the outpouring of concern, a stranger, but how those lessons linger on. I'm thinking of um Valerie Lee, Professor Valerie Lee, a professor at State University. She taught courses in women's studies and in the English department and in African American studies, and she to um Tony Morrison and to Zora Neal Hurston, and that reminded me to go back and reread stories and novels written by women of African descent on the continent, Mariyama Ba, Buccia Mechata, who I already referenced, um Flora Mapa, and and and just delving into the Amaataido and delving into the stories and the voices of women and not just men and not just white men. And um, Valerie Lee is still very much in my life today. Um, she's long since retired, but these women, again, just not my biological mothers, but nonetheless took me under their wings. I'm thinking of Dr. Egondu and Onyeje Kwe. She's still living as well. Just launched another initiative. She's in her 70s, a survival of breast cancer, who is continuing to nurture the next generation. And when she saw the coursework that I was taking and my activism, and I was still flipping burgers at Wendy's, she gave me a job at the Ohio State University and said, you know, and you just you just have to get your work done, but you have flexible, a flexible work schedule, which made all the difference in the world in terms of me being able to be an activist. And with every single one of those women, when life got really hard, I could go and put my head in their laps and just receive succor and support. I'm thinking of Auntie Malika, who is also an ancestor now, who would take me on walks, who reminded me to love my body as exactly as it is. I'm sharing all these stories and calling the names of these women because I'm saying that when we think of honoring women, it should not just be on Mother's Day because the work they do is every day, all the time, and it's eternal. Of course, of course, I must mention the biological mothers. My mother, Dr. Binolia Fubarra, who went back to get her PhD at the ripe old age of 44 years old, after having birthed seven children. And while she was in her PhD program at Ohio State University, I was a freshman at the same university. And my mother and I would meet in the Oval. She's wearing jeans, I'm wearing jeans, she's got a backpack, I've got a backpack, and we would go to the library together, and my mother would ask me to proofread her papers. Wow. And what my mother taught me in that time, without even saying the words, one was the importance of getting educated and not letting any of life's circumstances hold you back. She was a mother of seven and she worked a full time job and she went to, she pursued. Her PhD on a full-time basis and graduated with her PhD in four years. Like, what can we not do? My mother taught me my love for gardening. I would be in the garden with her. My love for plants and for flowers that came from my birth mother. I think of my maternal grandmother, Florence Petaside. And Florence Petaside was, she was the first in so many ways, the first woman in her area to own a car and drive a car. Now don't ask me how well she drove the car because I would hold on for dear life sitting in the front seat of her car, her little Volkswagen Beetle. But my grandmother, Florence, was an extraordinary entrepreneur. I still have um books from the cooperative she and others started in order to fund the education and the businesses of others in their community. I actually have her writing where in the books they are noting who requested funds and for what, how much was approved, when the funds got repaid, so on and so forth. They created their own institutions at a time when the colonial infrastructure would not fund and support the indigenous people. This is the stock from which I come. I think back even to my great-great-grandmother, Wanya Yayayi, and that's who I'm named after. My full name is Aya Yi. I'm named after her, child of God. And of course, I never met her, but the stories that I've heard about who she was and how she was a mother to all. And so actually, initially growing up, people in my in my you know family would call me Aya, yi, in that way, right? And they told me I reminded them of her and how she mothered everybody. And so I initially thought my mother meant mother of all because I would hear it so often, but just this mantle of what it means to be a woman, whether you are a biological mother or not. And so today, um, as I continue the celebration of Mother's Day beyond May 10th, I encourage each and every one of you to do the same as well, to call out the names of the women who have helped shape you. And let me tell you, sometimes that shaping means that they taught you what not to do, like they weren't there. Because I could mention some other women in my life who I looked at how they interacted with others and with me, and I said, okay, that's an example of what I don't want to be. And that itself is also instructive. But to find the reasons and to find um the creativity to truly honor women, not just one day of the year for a couple of hours, but all the time by censoring the fact that we are the harbingers of life, we are the nurturers, we are essential to this thing we call life. So call your names, call the names of the women who have made a difference in your life. You know, um, last week we had the profound joy of celebrating my daughter's graduation from Tennessee State University. Shout out to all the women who made her graduation possible. Now there were men involved, but I'm centering women today. I want to call out the incomparable Barbara Murrell. She was a roommate and a chaperone for Wilma Rudolph. She has been a pillar in Tennessee State University and in terms of higher education for decades. She is responsible for spearheading the effort to create what is called the Dr. Levi Watkins Junior Scholarship Institute. And through this scholarship program, she is shepherding some of our brightest young people through their undergraduate experience so that they can go on to medical school and to dentistry school. And from day one, she showed up as a mother in my daughter's life, um, calling her, supporting her, encouraging her, making sure she had what she needed. And even now that she has graduated, in fact, as we were driving back from Nashville to Texas, there was a call from Barbara Murrell. How are you doing? Where are you? Here are the next steps. Want to make sure you're doing everything you need to do to be successful at Mahari Medical College, Medical School, which is where my daughter is going next. Um, Mrs. Hodges, um, I there's some names I know that I'm forgetting now. Um, for all of you women across the country, across the world, who are parenting and nurturing these young minds in kindergarten and grade school and middle school and high school and college and beyond, I pay my respects to you. Thank you for setting up the next generation. We truly could not do it without you and without your sacrifice. There is always a sacrifice because there are only so many days in the year, so many hours in a day. And anytime someone is giving somewhere else, there is something they're saying no to, maybe to their leisure, maybe to their sleep, and unfortunately, too often to their own well-being. So please honor and nurture and celebrate consistently the women in your life, the women who over time have made it possible for us to live the lives that we live today. So, as we wrap up this time that we have together, I encourage each and every one of you. If you're listening on the radio station, thank you. Please go over to our YouTube channel, Rethinking Freedom. Please subscribe. We are at almost 17,000 subscribers, and we see no reason why we should not be at 20,000 subscribers by the end of May. Share, like, like this episode, share it, leave a comment because it helps with the algorithms. In the comment, call the names of the women in your life who have made such a difference. I can also call on my sisters, you know, the ones who have been there at night, who who've seen, who've experienced the things I couldn't give voice to, my aunties, of which there are many. I'm remembering women like Mama Erebie, who has now gone on to the ancestral realm, and the way she loved and supported me every time she saw me. I'm thinking of Mama Ibikari, who was a central part of my rights of passage initiation, who actually I can go into details, but the way she loved and served me through that process, I will forever honor who she is. And so put down the names of the women that you love and you honor. Don't just think it in your head. Don't just give them a card that doesn't even have words you wrote, the words someone else manufactured. Like make this meaningful and have conversations with the women in your life. What are they going through? Where do they need real support? And then show up, not just today, but always. So if we are serious about celebrating mothers, celebrating women, we must also look at our systems. We must look at our economic systems, we must look at our legal systems. There are so many children today who are not going to be celebrating Mother's Day this year or any other year in the traditional sense because their mothers have been murdered and there has been no justice for their mothers. We must look to how we bring about paid leave for mothers. I remember being pregnant and I had a friend who was pregnant at the same time in Canada. And after I had my child, I was getting ready to go back to work six weeks after I had my child. I actually really never took a real maternity leave because I was working from home, trying not to fall behind so that being a mother would not be counted against me in terms of my ability to be promoted. And she told me that in Canada they get a full-year paid maternity leave. Support means paid leave. Support means health care. Black women are three to four times more likely to die in childbirth than any other group of women. No woman should be dying in childbirth from preventable measures, but certainly we need to address what is happening with black women at a time when the 34-time convicted felon-in-chief is gutting every support system for women and children. We need to make sure that there's child care, affordable child care. How am I supposed to go out and be my best self in the world? Lend my intellect and my ideas and my creativity when I cannot afford childcare. Let us look at community care. We must ask the questions: who needs help? And then we must show up. So here is the bottom line, my friends. Mother's Day was never meant to be a transaction. It was not about just taking mom out to dinner, a dinner that you didn't cook, you're just going to a restaurant where some other woman is probably away from her kids cooking, so that you can quote unquote show your mother a good time. Mother's Day was meant to be transformative. It was meant to bring about real change. How do we celebrate Mother's Day when our children are being slaughtered, when public education is being gutted? So remember this. America celebrates mothers one day a year and ignores the systems that break them in the other 364 days. What will your true Mother's Day celebration look like moving forward? Are there organizations that support women that you can support today? Can you start voting for humanity, voting for women's rights, full rights, as opposed to carrying the water for the white nationalist and patriot this patriarchy and oppressing women? Can we get back to the true meaning of celebrating mothers, celebrating women? And so today, for all of the women across the world, the mothers of the Iranian children who were slaughtered in an illegal war. Those mothers who had to carry children that they knew no longer had a heartbeat. Because in states like Texas, doctors are afraid to provide care because of these oppressive laws that are being passed. For mothers whose children have been locked up for crimes that are so basic. While people who are truly committing major crimes are being pardoned, I lift up prayers for you. For those desiring to be biological mothers and struggling with it, fibroids and endrometriosis and all kinds of other issues. I send forth comfort. And for all of us women, I pray that we have the courage to keep fighting for humanity, to keep fighting for change, to keep fighting for what's right, regardless of the opposition. Happy Mother's Day to all of you. Thank you for watching Rethinking Freedom.