When My Mom Read My Post

Then she texted to ask what the acronym M.I.L.F. meant.

Have you ever written something, then realized in hindsight that your mother was going to read it?

So this happened the other day —

And a few minutes later —

She was referring to something I had written in the popular piece on wanting a pixie cut and being afraid of turning myself into a suburban mom.

I was addressing the societal perception of the suburban mom that speaks to a definite lack of sexuality, and more deeply her lack of true free agency.

I have no problems with the role itself. I am a suburban mom, to be honest.

I just don’t want to be desexualized or devalued for filling that role.

So I was using the term M.I.L.F. to speak to the contrast. My mom, who has obviously been living under a rock for the last 3 decades since she hadn’t heard the term, was not thrilled with my use of the term in relation to myself.

My first guess was that it might be challenging for her, with her conservative mores, to think of her daughter publically admitting of her desire to be sexual.

And honestly, it’s not an acronym I’d choose to define to my own children at this point in their lives.

Among adults, I defend my right to use the term however I see fit. But I’d be a hypocrite to say that I necessarily think it’s something I think should be flung around without SOME caution about how language is used.

This thought came to me as my son who is working on his reading skills just looked over my shoulder and asked me what M.I.L.F. stands for. I declined to answer his request. Oops.

I hope he doesn’t ask Alexa!

Writing in the public eye feels risky.

It’s taken me until full adulthood to be brave enough to say and write the things I really think in public. And even now, I’m still kind of counting on the fact that not that many people will actually read what I write.

It seems the conditioning to seek approval is deeply engrained in my psyche.

I don’t want to offend people. I fear exposing my real self to the world.

As Yael Wolfe wrote just the other day, it’s challenging to be a whole woman when everything we’ve ever been taught has involved staying small, unobtrusive, and good — whatever that means!

Writing in the public eye can be scary.

Anyone who writes truth fearlessly from their heart is in danger of potentially falling to this fear. The fear of trolls. The fear of judgment. The fear of shame.

Transparency comes at a cost.

Transparency means you are flinging open the curtains wide into some part of your inner sanctum, and throwing caution to the wind to write the words that flow out of you. It means consciously choosing NOT to censor the words you choose in an attempt to control the reaction of the reader, and what they might think of you.

Jessica Lovejoy recently put out a great piece on this aspect of writing.

I had to laugh at the line in her piece where she talks about her co-editors re-tweeting her article while she was doing deep breathing exercises on the living room floor.

My reaction was from the shared feeling of her visceral expression of anxiety. I can honestly say I’ve got more than a few stories waiting in my drafts list, just waiting for me to have the courage to hit submit.

I have felt the tight stomach and the shortened breath of realizing I just figuratively took my clothes off in the front of what feels like a conservative church.

I too have waited for the shoe to drop.

But this time, I was ready to stand my ground.

I tried to use soft words. I tried to start with love.

Maybe I was still pussyfooting around.

I still clearly seek her approval, for all that I wish I didn’t want to do that. Nothing is truly simple, you see. We all know the binary doesn’t cover the subtle details of things. Yes or no just doesn’t cover it.

Thankfully, my Mom and I still have a good relationship.

We don’t always agree, but we are not so antagonistic with each other anymore. We’ve both matured past the point of my teenage angst and her younger mother's reactions. Thankfully!

So I wasn’t going to clap back with a “mind your own damn business,” response to her gentle admonitions.

That said — she should be aware that I’m not a child anymore and I get to say the words I want to say in the world. I’m not merely a reflection of her. I am my own person.

Her consciousness of the public eye is obviously as strong or stronger than mine. And though she’s 70, she still has a pretty keen idea of how social media works. Hers is more of a Facebook-style consciousness than a feminist-Medium-style consciousness. But still, it’s appreciated.

I’ll bet she didn’t think I was going to put her texts into another piece. Ha!

Sorry, not sorry Mom.

Writing in the public eye can bring revelations.

I was reading into her objections in terms of sexuality.

But what she told me she was actually objecting to was swearing! Go figure.

I’m not entirely sure I believe what she was objecting to. But I’ll choose to take her at her words. And yes, this is how we really text to one another.

I’ll choose to accept her version of things and won’t put my own spin on what she wrote to me.

After all, that’s really all I want her to do for me. The golden rule and all.

I have a feeling this experience was not a phenomenon limited to me. If you have a funny story of a reaction you’ve gotten to your blog, especially from your Mom, drop them in the comments.

I have a feeling many of us are in this together!

More like this.

Kaia Tingley is a writer, artist, podcaster, digital strategy nerd, and sometimes hot-tempered supernova with a wild, free soul. You can find her on Instagram here or on LinkedIn here.