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A woman holds her baby.
Modern motherhood has become obsessed with one word: choice. But a choice made under duress is no choice at all.
Mothers are seemingly given endless choices: to work or be a stay-at-home mom. Sleep train or not, breastfeed or bottle-feed. The list is endless.
But true choice only exists when the options are genuinely possible. For millions of mothers around the world, they aren't.
Reshma Saujani’s recent documentary, No Country for Mothers, has reignited a conversation about what it means to be a mother in a society that was never designed to support it. As clear evidence of this, more than 400,000 mothers of young children have left the US workforce, the steepest decline in 40 years. While Saujani’s documentary focuses on the United States, the friction it exposes is global.
There is a design flaw at the heart of modern motherhood:
Rather than judging mothers for these choices, we need to create a society that better supports them.
Our economies rely on the assumption of an uninterrupted worker, and our families rely on the expectation of an endlessly available mother.
We have witnessed this firsthand, as the founders of Kidogo Childcare Centres and Maziwa Breastfeeding, working alongside low-income mothers in Kenya, and as women who have confronted these tough choices ourselves.
Many of the mothers we work with either work informally, receiving sporadic daily income, or are living from paycheck to paycheck. For them, returning to work is not about ambition or professional identity. It is the only way they can feed their families. A few weeks without income can push a family onto the street.
However, if a mother is compelled to return to work, how is her child adequately cared for and fed?
Globally, the World Bank estimates 350 million children below primary school age need childcare but do not have access to it. Similarly, optimal breastfeeding could prevent more than 820,000 child deaths every single year and countless cases of serious illnesses, but working mothers are not supported to maintain breastfeeding.
Unfortunately, in the contexts we work in, maternity leave, safe and affordable childcare, lactation rooms, and breastfeeding breaks are nonexistent. Yet, when a child is left in unsuitable care or weaned off of breastmilk prematurely, we shift the blame to the mother—rather than the system that has failed her.
Society cannot expect mothers to work and then treat childcare and breastfeeding as a private burden for each woman to solve alone.
As female entrepreneurs, we face these impossible choices personally as well: Sabrina, feeling like she has missed out on early childhood development milestones for her own daughter, ironically while building the largest childcare network in Kenya; and Sahar, freezing her eggs to delay motherhood, while launching Kenya’s first wearable breast pump to allow mothers to balance working and breastfeeding.
Time and time again, we see these trade-offs play out: If a mother is working, she needs to find safe and adequate care. If she stays home, she must absorb the income loss. If she breastfeeds, she must do so without support, time, space, or privacy. If she cannot breastfeed, she is made to feel like she has failed.
When all these expectations collide, we call it choice. But for many mothers, it is not a choice at all. It is a system asking them to do the impossible.
Rather than confronting this friction directly, we often turn mothers against one another. The "trad wife" and the "girl boss" are presented as opposing ideals. Breastfeeding and formula feeding become moral tribes. Stay-at-home mothers and working mothers are asked to defend their choices as if one woman’s path invalidates another’s.
This reduces structural failures into identity camps. These divisions are not accidental. They distract us from the systems that create these impossible choices in the first place.
The choices are not being made from a place of agency—nor are they taken lightly. There is an immense amount of motherhood guilt with every decision. Rather than judging mothers for these choices, we need to create a society that better supports them.
To be sure, progress has been made to better support motherhood in some countries. For example, Sweden offers 480 days of parental leave with 80% of pay. However, across the globe, women's participation in the workforce is rising faster than the policies needed to support working mothers.
No Country for Mothers has clearly highlighted how mothers have been “failed by economic policies, workplace structures, political agendas, and cultural narratives that were never designed to support caregiving or family life.”
The impossible choices mothers face are the symptom, not the cause. Rather than expecting mothers to solve structural failures through individual sacrifice, we need our systems to adapt to motherhood.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Mothers are seemingly given endless choices: to work or be a stay-at-home mom. Sleep train or not, breastfeed or bottle-feed. The list is endless.
But true choice only exists when the options are genuinely possible. For millions of mothers around the world, they aren't.
Reshma Saujani’s recent documentary, No Country for Mothers, has reignited a conversation about what it means to be a mother in a society that was never designed to support it. As clear evidence of this, more than 400,000 mothers of young children have left the US workforce, the steepest decline in 40 years. While Saujani’s documentary focuses on the United States, the friction it exposes is global.
There is a design flaw at the heart of modern motherhood:
Rather than judging mothers for these choices, we need to create a society that better supports them.
Our economies rely on the assumption of an uninterrupted worker, and our families rely on the expectation of an endlessly available mother.
We have witnessed this firsthand, as the founders of Kidogo Childcare Centres and Maziwa Breastfeeding, working alongside low-income mothers in Kenya, and as women who have confronted these tough choices ourselves.
Many of the mothers we work with either work informally, receiving sporadic daily income, or are living from paycheck to paycheck. For them, returning to work is not about ambition or professional identity. It is the only way they can feed their families. A few weeks without income can push a family onto the street.
However, if a mother is compelled to return to work, how is her child adequately cared for and fed?
Globally, the World Bank estimates 350 million children below primary school age need childcare but do not have access to it. Similarly, optimal breastfeeding could prevent more than 820,000 child deaths every single year and countless cases of serious illnesses, but working mothers are not supported to maintain breastfeeding.
Unfortunately, in the contexts we work in, maternity leave, safe and affordable childcare, lactation rooms, and breastfeeding breaks are nonexistent. Yet, when a child is left in unsuitable care or weaned off of breastmilk prematurely, we shift the blame to the mother—rather than the system that has failed her.
Society cannot expect mothers to work and then treat childcare and breastfeeding as a private burden for each woman to solve alone.
As female entrepreneurs, we face these impossible choices personally as well: Sabrina, feeling like she has missed out on early childhood development milestones for her own daughter, ironically while building the largest childcare network in Kenya; and Sahar, freezing her eggs to delay motherhood, while launching Kenya’s first wearable breast pump to allow mothers to balance working and breastfeeding.
Time and time again, we see these trade-offs play out: If a mother is working, she needs to find safe and adequate care. If she stays home, she must absorb the income loss. If she breastfeeds, she must do so without support, time, space, or privacy. If she cannot breastfeed, she is made to feel like she has failed.
When all these expectations collide, we call it choice. But for many mothers, it is not a choice at all. It is a system asking them to do the impossible.
Rather than confronting this friction directly, we often turn mothers against one another. The "trad wife" and the "girl boss" are presented as opposing ideals. Breastfeeding and formula feeding become moral tribes. Stay-at-home mothers and working mothers are asked to defend their choices as if one woman’s path invalidates another’s.
This reduces structural failures into identity camps. These divisions are not accidental. They distract us from the systems that create these impossible choices in the first place.
The choices are not being made from a place of agency—nor are they taken lightly. There is an immense amount of motherhood guilt with every decision. Rather than judging mothers for these choices, we need to create a society that better supports them.
To be sure, progress has been made to better support motherhood in some countries. For example, Sweden offers 480 days of parental leave with 80% of pay. However, across the globe, women's participation in the workforce is rising faster than the policies needed to support working mothers.
No Country for Mothers has clearly highlighted how mothers have been “failed by economic policies, workplace structures, political agendas, and cultural narratives that were never designed to support caregiving or family life.”
The impossible choices mothers face are the symptom, not the cause. Rather than expecting mothers to solve structural failures through individual sacrifice, we need our systems to adapt to motherhood.
Mothers are seemingly given endless choices: to work or be a stay-at-home mom. Sleep train or not, breastfeed or bottle-feed. The list is endless.
But true choice only exists when the options are genuinely possible. For millions of mothers around the world, they aren't.
Reshma Saujani’s recent documentary, No Country for Mothers, has reignited a conversation about what it means to be a mother in a society that was never designed to support it. As clear evidence of this, more than 400,000 mothers of young children have left the US workforce, the steepest decline in 40 years. While Saujani’s documentary focuses on the United States, the friction it exposes is global.
There is a design flaw at the heart of modern motherhood:
Rather than judging mothers for these choices, we need to create a society that better supports them.
Our economies rely on the assumption of an uninterrupted worker, and our families rely on the expectation of an endlessly available mother.
We have witnessed this firsthand, as the founders of Kidogo Childcare Centres and Maziwa Breastfeeding, working alongside low-income mothers in Kenya, and as women who have confronted these tough choices ourselves.
Many of the mothers we work with either work informally, receiving sporadic daily income, or are living from paycheck to paycheck. For them, returning to work is not about ambition or professional identity. It is the only way they can feed their families. A few weeks without income can push a family onto the street.
However, if a mother is compelled to return to work, how is her child adequately cared for and fed?
Globally, the World Bank estimates 350 million children below primary school age need childcare but do not have access to it. Similarly, optimal breastfeeding could prevent more than 820,000 child deaths every single year and countless cases of serious illnesses, but working mothers are not supported to maintain breastfeeding.
Unfortunately, in the contexts we work in, maternity leave, safe and affordable childcare, lactation rooms, and breastfeeding breaks are nonexistent. Yet, when a child is left in unsuitable care or weaned off of breastmilk prematurely, we shift the blame to the mother—rather than the system that has failed her.
Society cannot expect mothers to work and then treat childcare and breastfeeding as a private burden for each woman to solve alone.
As female entrepreneurs, we face these impossible choices personally as well: Sabrina, feeling like she has missed out on early childhood development milestones for her own daughter, ironically while building the largest childcare network in Kenya; and Sahar, freezing her eggs to delay motherhood, while launching Kenya’s first wearable breast pump to allow mothers to balance working and breastfeeding.
Time and time again, we see these trade-offs play out: If a mother is working, she needs to find safe and adequate care. If she stays home, she must absorb the income loss. If she breastfeeds, she must do so without support, time, space, or privacy. If she cannot breastfeed, she is made to feel like she has failed.
When all these expectations collide, we call it choice. But for many mothers, it is not a choice at all. It is a system asking them to do the impossible.
Rather than confronting this friction directly, we often turn mothers against one another. The "trad wife" and the "girl boss" are presented as opposing ideals. Breastfeeding and formula feeding become moral tribes. Stay-at-home mothers and working mothers are asked to defend their choices as if one woman’s path invalidates another’s.
This reduces structural failures into identity camps. These divisions are not accidental. They distract us from the systems that create these impossible choices in the first place.
The choices are not being made from a place of agency—nor are they taken lightly. There is an immense amount of motherhood guilt with every decision. Rather than judging mothers for these choices, we need to create a society that better supports them.
To be sure, progress has been made to better support motherhood in some countries. For example, Sweden offers 480 days of parental leave with 80% of pay. However, across the globe, women's participation in the workforce is rising faster than the policies needed to support working mothers.
No Country for Mothers has clearly highlighted how mothers have been “failed by economic policies, workplace structures, political agendas, and cultural narratives that were never designed to support caregiving or family life.”
The impossible choices mothers face are the symptom, not the cause. Rather than expecting mothers to solve structural failures through individual sacrifice, we need our systems to adapt to motherhood.