Every year, around January 15th,
the world rightfully celebrates the birth
of the great Martin Luther King Jr.
Yet, virtually no one has stopped
to consider who else was in that room
that day in 1929.
As if somehow MLK Jr. birthed himself.
(Laughter)
I toured the location where he was born.
A charming, quaint
two-story home in Atlanta.
And while it was an honor
to even be there,
I left feeling frustrated
by the tour guide's script.
Of course, MLK Jr. was the center
of most of the tales,
and then came stories about his father,
the inspiring Reverend
Martin Luther King Sr.
But what frustrated me
was the lack of attention
being paid to his mother,
Alberta Christine Williams King.
Even though this was actually
her childhood home first
and the home where she'd later
birth her children,
in a room on the second floor.
This erasure doesn't only concern Alberta.
Mothers in the US are often misrepresented
or completely left out
in the stories we tell.
Mothers are used to being seen
as selfless beings without needs
for others to consider.
They're used to feeling belittled
if they stay at home with their children
because the narrative says
it's "unproductive."
Or they might even hide the fact
that they have children at work
so that they're still taken seriously
rather than seen as distracted.
And they will not receive credit
for the accomplishments of the loved ones
they have supported day in and day out
because our retelling of events
doesn't feature
the many acts of mothering.
Beyond such instances being frustrating,
I believe they lead
to a lack of understanding
surrounding the critical roles
mothers play in our society,
and they contribute
to a lack of support for mothers.
If the stories we tell,
both on an interpersonal level
as well as in literature and in media,
deem mothers as unimportant,
as unworthy of being seen and considered,
then these opinions will be reflected
in the way that mothers
are treated in our country.
It is not a surprise, then,
that in the US we have yet to establish
universal parental leave,
a universal quality,
affordable child care,
that we are experiencing
a maternal mortality crisis
and that many mothers had no other choice
but to leave the workforce
as a result of the pandemic.
Such tragedies have a ripple effect
that also hurts our children,
our communities,
even our national economy.
As a writer and sociologist,
I believe that storytelling
plays a necessary role
in fixing our current trajectory;
that through the intentional
centering of mothers,
we can not only make life better for them,
we can actually make life
better for everyone.
The way to get organizations
and our government
to give mothers the resources
that they desperately need and deserve
is to first shift our perspective
of motherhood on a cultural level.
I am on a mission for that shift
to happen in my lifetime,
especially for mothers of color
who have historically
received the least resources.
I have spent the last several years
studying three women in particular,
whose life stories show,
number one, just how easily
we disregard mothers,
and number two,
how a lack of consideration
for their needs and their contributions
leads to a lack
of intervention and support.
While it may be too late
to help the three of them,
I believe their life stories
provide guidance
on how we can make
the world better for moms
and everyone they impact today.
So let's first go back to Alberta King.
Alberta was born in Atlanta,
Georgia, in 1903,
to the leaders of Ebenezer Baptist Church.
Even as a young girl, she was an activist.
She participated in marches and boycotts,
and she even joined her parents as some
of the very first members of the NAACP.
She believed that Christian faith
must always be intertwined
with social justice,
and she used her education
to advance freedom causes.
Alberta grew up to be a talented
organizer and a musician,
as well as a mother of three.
Before meeting her husband,
Alberta was on her path
to becoming an educator.
She earned a teaching certificate
and a bachelor's degree.
But because the law stated
that married women could not teach,
she was forced to walk away
from a formal career.
She still did everything she could
to provide for, educate and protect
her family and her community members.
But that same care and shielding
was not afforded to her in return.
Her life was tragically taken
when she was shot in the back
as she played the church organ.
The second story begins
in La Digue Grenada,
at the very end of the 19th century.
A little girl is influenced
by her grandparents
to always stand for Black pride
and Black independence
by any means necessary.
At the young age of 17,
she travels to Montreal,
Canada, on her own,
to spread the message of Black liberation.
And she joins the Marcus Garvey
pan-African movement.
This is just a brief introduction
to Louise Langdon Little,
a multilingual scholar and activist
who also brought
eight children into the world,
one of whom was named
Malcolm Little originally.
He later became known
to the world as Malcolm X.
When Louise's husband was murdered
and she was widowed
when she was only in her 30s,
white welfare workers started
showing up and entering her home,
questioning the way
that she was raising her children.
A white male physician
was sent to evaluate her,
and he concluded that she
was experiencing dementia,
citing that she was "imagining
being discriminated against."
(Audience murmurs)
As a result,
she was institutionalized against her will
for around 25 years.
Each of her children were taken from her
and they were placed
into separate foster homes.
The final story starts in the small town
of Deal Island, Maryland, in 1902.
A little girl's life begins in tragedy
when she loses her own mother.
But through this moment of darkness,
she becomes somebody
fixated on light and on love.
A talented writer,
she uses her prose to inspire
those around her
to let go of their own pain
and their hatred.
As a teenager,
she travels to New York
in search of a new start,
and she arrives in the middle
of the Harlem Renaissance.
This is just a brief introduction
to Berdis Jones Baldwin,
a mother of nine.
Her first born was originally
named James Arthur Jones.
He later became known
to the world as James Baldwin.
At times, Berdis had no other choice
but to leave her children at home
to make money as a domestic worker.
She was also the victim
of an abusive husband for years.
Without resources
other than police officers,
who were better known
for harassing her community,
she endured the pain on her own.
When her husband passed,
and she too was only in her thirties,
she proudly raised her nine children
as a single mother.
These stories are not a part
of ancient history,
nor should they be seen
as separate of other mothers
simply because their sons became famous.
They are representative
of mothers' experiences,
especially Black mothers,
who, to this day, are disrespected,
denied paid leave,
pushed out of their jobs,
facing biases in health care systems,
are victims of abuse,
are mistreated and belittled,
and who are being forgotten and erased.
Would the world be different today,
if we'd been telling
their stories all along?
I believe so.
If the stories we told of mothers
reflected their presence,
their importance, their power,
their influence,
their wholeness and their humanity,
then it would be easier for everyone
to appreciate their roles
and back them with the support
that they deserve.
So let's act now.
How about we stop thanking
mothers for being selfless
and putting their needs
behind everyone else's?
(Applause)
And instead,
we thank them for being our first leaders,
caretakers and teachers.
What if we asked how we could
support them in return?
(Applause)
Yeah.
(Applause)
What if we celebrated stay-at-home moms
as the essential members
of our society that they are
rather than belittling their role?
(Applause)
What if employers and colleagues
recognize mothering
as the ultimate test of multitasking,
organization and empathy?
(Laughs)
(Applause)
And highlighted the importance
of keeping mothers on their teams.
And what if we produced more stories,
books, TV shows, movies
that represented mothers accurately?
Could we convince more people
of the need for parental leave,
affordable child care,
unbiased health care systems,
maybe even a guaranteed income?
I think we can all agree.
Mothers are essential.
Mothers are powerful.
Mothers have their own needs
and their own identities.
Mothers deserve support.
It is time our stories
and our policies reflect this.
We can change the narrative.
And when we do,
the world will be a much better
and equitable place for us all.
Thank you.
(Applause and cheers)