Creating a Mom Community Outside of the MOPS Bubble
When I was pregnant with Loren, I put out a call to my Facebook friends: Did anyone know of any parenting groups in Frankenmuth where occasional cussing and drinking were welcome? I was joking, kind of, and also serious about wanting a space to belong.
I had a hunch I wouldn’t fit in with the local MOPS group operating out of the Lutheran school, but I was desperate for community and wanted to get to know other mothers, so I did some digging. There was nothing blatantly religious about the MOPS website. There, on the front page of the website, was a seemingly inclusive mission statement: “Whether you are a soon-to-be mom, first-time mom or seventh-time mom, you are welcome here. Whether you are an adoptive mom, young mom, seasoned mom, military mom, stepmom or any other type of mom, you are welcome here.”
This sounded hopeful. While having babies in my 30s excluded me from the “young mom” category, I was a first-time mom. If nothing else, I definitely fit into the “any other type of mom” category. So off I went to my very first MOPS meeting.
It was only a matter of minutes before I felt uneasy. There was a prayer before our meal, a guest speaker shared her coming-of-faith story, quoted scripture, and interpreted the Bible in ways I was no longer comfortable with—preaching in favor of the misogynistic and patriarchal admonishment: “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands.”
As someone who identifies as “spiritual, not religious,” I felt completely out of place. It was clear that my hunch was right: I didn’t belong there. And I was angry about that. How could I not belong in a group that guaranteed “any other type of mom” a welcoming space?
I want a mom’s group with no strings attached, no religious affiliation necessary, no judgement for believing something (or not believing something). I want a mom’s group that is just a bunch of moms getting together to support other moms. It seems like a simple ask.
Part of the reason I started Mommy Say F*ck was to connect with moms who didn’t already have a space for connection carved out for them. I wanted to create a space for moms to share the alternative narratives of motherhood, the narratives that directly oppose what Minna Dubin so accurately describes as “the googly-eyed, cooing narratives” of motherhood. I wanted to create an open space, a space where moms can freely express anger, disappointment, struggle.
Most days I feel like the local nonconformist, the estranged eccentric, the mom all the other moms are “praying for.” It feels lonely, and nearly impossible to connect with moms who are already connecting with each other in various church-based spaces.
Again, I wonder, how does a mom like me build community in a place like Frankenmuth without compromising my beliefs?
And so far, the only answer I’ve come up with is: differently.
I start by asking the handful of mamas I do resonate with to hang out. I feel hopeful when they respond with a collective, “I’ve been needing this!” So we meet, and we move forward together. And yes, there will be mimosas, and at least one mama that says f*ck.