Thread by @emrazz

My mom is a semi-unintentional feminist. That’s how I was raised. It’s not to say that she wasn’t educated (she is, exceptionally so) or well traveled (moreso than me), or apolitical (she’s a grassroots problem solver who volunteers much of her free time); but for her —

It was organic. She understood what she was up against. She fought against it, but not for a larger cause. It was survival, and then success, then thriving. She is an iron lady. Unstoppable. Stitching up corporate meltdowns by day and Halloween costumes and prom dresses at night.

She managed all of our lives, we five kids, a horse farm, and a fortune 100 executive career. She made it look so doable, expected even. I never had any concept of the physical and emotional labor she put in because she felt like she owed it to us. To everyone. Quietly.

As I’ve grown I’ve had a learning experience common among most women: realizing all the unseen, unappreciated, unpaid work my mom did, and still does. Work she did on top of her career. The second job she holds with the title of “Woman.” “Sister.” “Aunt.” “Mother.” “Grandmother.”

She taught me to be a feminist because I love her so much, and I wish her life had been easier. I wish I had made it easier. I wish she hadn’t felt obligated to carry her burdens and the abuse of others in silence. I wish someone had told her back then she was doing a great job.

Appreciate your mothers, yes.

Work for them like they work for you, yes.

Make the lives of mothers everywhere better, too.

I love you mom. Happy Mother’s Day.