I have the kind of name people forget or mistake, partially because it’s common for people my age. Instead of Laura, I’m frequently called Lauren or Laurie. Throughout my life, people have forgotten my name or don’t recognize me out of context when we run into each other. None of this bothers me. However, when someone calls me “Mama,” my stomach turns and my mouth waters with a rageful bile.
My kids, at one time, did call me “Mama” and that was lovely. I do not feel offended by my own children calling me “Mama” because that’s who I am to them. I’m well-situated into “Mom” territory now, but I never minded “Mama” or “Mommy” from their lips. Sometimes my 8-year-old still crawls into my lap and calls me “Mama.” He’s too big to comfortably curl up against my abdomen, but he tries, and I savor these fleeting moments. But when other adults call me “Mama,” both out loud and in writing, I feel a knee-jerk need to correct them.
For example, a friend — a smart woman whom I respect — texted me about a problem she was having regarding one of her kids. I sympathized and offered my own anecdote to illustrate that she wasn’t alone in having struggles with parenthood. She responded, “Hugs, Mama, that’s really hard.” I found it deeply condescending.
When I had an infant, I sought the camaraderie of other mothers and joined several Facebook groups; I appreciated the community but hated that they all had names like “Portland Mamas” “Spring 2014 Mamas.” I took “stroller” exercise classes, many of which had “mama” or some variant in the name. Meetups often started with “Hey, Mama!” and few to no dads ever attended. While I understand we’re all too sleep deprived to remember everyone’s name, I cringed at the greeting. When people call me “Mama,” what they’re inadvertently doing is taking away my identity — one that often feels buried under years of motherhood.
And then there’s mama merch, which is seemingly everywhere in our current culture, including entire pages devoted to it on Etsy and similar sites. I’ve seen the word adorned on T-shirts, mugs, hats, necklaces and more. I’ve been given some mama merch over the years, especially during the early years of parenthood when, should I have been asked what I wanted for Christmas, I would have said, sleep. Someone in my family once gave me a “mama bear” T-shirt, which I wore only inside my own house.
Part of the reason “Mama” grates on me so much is because of the word itself. “Mama” — or some variant thereof (“mamma” or “momma”) — is a frequent term in many languages for mother. The usage of “mama” has increased significantly over the last few years. “Mama” had its first recorded use in the 1500s but the term likely existed for all of time. The syllables “ma” and “ma” are easy to say and therefore frequent baby talk. The word “mammal” and its variants, including “mammaries,” come from the baby talk “mama.” In some research, the first uses of “mama” are synonymous with breasts (as in “mammaries” and “mammary glands,” which are located in the breast).
I understand the simplicity of calling me, a mother, “mama,” but other adults do not need to refer to me as such. I know they’re not actually calling back my previous career as a milk cow when they call me “Mama.” They’re trying to be sweet, conversational and comforting. I have a similar dislike of being called “gal” or “girl.” I don’t think women should be perpetuating the infantilization of women. It’s not intentional — it’s a habit, one I want us to notice and break.
Then there’s the other problem, which is that these terms are almost always being directed at me, a white lady, by other white ladies. The colloquial use of “mama” and “girl” come from a culture outside my own. People in these communities, including Black and Latinx women who were historically referred to in these babyish terms as a form of discrimination, have reclaimed these nicknames and turned them into terms of endearment. I feel deeply uncomfortable with white mothers co-opting the terms for our own cheesy use.
The aversion to calling someone who is not your own mother “Mama” or “Mommy” has been discussed at length, yet women who are mothers are still expected to disappear into their identities as a parent in a way fathers are not. At this point in time, women face far greater foes than the nicknames we call each other, but this one little step in the direction of treating each other with the respect owed to us as distinct individuals might just be the tiniest nudge in the right direction.