We lived in upstate New York, it was winter, and she had fallen asleep on me during a rare outing. “What kind of mother are you?” the man yelled out his car window. A mother’s body apparently belonged to vague patriarchal laws I couldn’t always identify and therefore needed to be taught, many of which rested on the assumption that a lack of autonomy was simply part of motherhood. Even at home alone with my baby, I felt stuck in the snow with a man pointing at me, moralizing my behavior. Many mothers told me to let it be, to give in.

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Persons: impatiently Locations: New York