If I’m being honest, the only reason I became interested in the ridiculous power of the parenting industry is annoyance. Thanks to many a tech-savvy relative, my Facebook feed is plastered with motivational quotes, suggestions, pictures and near-constant reminders of what, apparently, it means to be a parent in the 21st century.
These images represent one important aspect of the multi-billion dollar global parenting industry: internalization. As Shepard asserts in his article “400 Years of Parenting Advice,” parents are more anxious for their children now than ever before. Though most of the parents with the means to access these books and blogs no longer worry about plagues, starvation, or murder, they must now contend with the world their child is being born into. This is the world of ever-declining college acceptance rates, ever-present standardized testing, relentless quantification of personality via applications, and - perhaps most worrying - children born now have access to the ideas and issues of people across the globe, all of whom are trying to influence them in some way or another. In this environment, is it so strange that parents would latch on to any advice out there, no matter how outlandish or even simply expensive?
And this industry is not morally neutral. Books can be exploitative to the point of being fatal (i.e. Michael and Debi Pearl’s To Train Up a Child, which suggests, among other things, beating children with plastic tubing even before they disobey to, I assume, teach complete, unthinking obedience). Books can be indicative of other types of violence, especially given that most of the popular books are written by and for heterosexual, affluent white couples. Most say nothing about what to do when, for example, one parent doesn’t speak English and relies on a child to translate. Most say nothing about what a white parent should do when their adopted child of color is bullied because of their race at school. Most don’t suggest a time to tell children about issues that will affect them their entire life - when do you tell a female child about sexism? When do you tell a disabled child about ableism? When do you tell a child of color about racism? When do you teach your privileged child about their privilege? Because if you never teach or tell your children these things, they are wholly at the mercy of whatever they can glean from their friends, their experiences and the media as a whole.
These omissions, which presume the heterosexual white reader with white, male, fully- abled children represent an act of violence. They represent an industry that knows exactly who they cater to. They represent an industry that continues the myth that “normal” families don’t deal with these issues, which creates a culture of exclusion for less privileged parents.
So even more than I despise the constant flood of what I’ve dubbed “mom memes” on my Facebook feed, I truly loathe the way people have found a way to commercialize and create violence within what is perhaps the most sacred space: the most ancient act of childrearing.
These images represent one important aspect of the multi-billion dollar global parenting industry: internalization. As Shepard asserts in his article “400 Years of Parenting Advice,” parents are more anxious for their children now than ever before. Though most of the parents with the means to access these books and blogs no longer worry about plagues, starvation, or murder, they must now contend with the world their child is being born into. This is the world of ever-declining college acceptance rates, ever-present standardized testing, relentless quantification of personality via applications, and - perhaps most worrying - children born now have access to the ideas and issues of people across the globe, all of whom are trying to influence them in some way or another. In this environment, is it so strange that parents would latch on to any advice out there, no matter how outlandish or even simply expensive?
And this industry is not morally neutral. Books can be exploitative to the point of being fatal (i.e. Michael and Debi Pearl’s To Train Up a Child, which suggests, among other things, beating children with plastic tubing even before they disobey to, I assume, teach complete, unthinking obedience). Books can be indicative of other types of violence, especially given that most of the popular books are written by and for heterosexual, affluent white couples. Most say nothing about what to do when, for example, one parent doesn’t speak English and relies on a child to translate. Most say nothing about what a white parent should do when their adopted child of color is bullied because of their race at school. Most don’t suggest a time to tell children about issues that will affect them their entire life - when do you tell a female child about sexism? When do you tell a disabled child about ableism? When do you tell a child of color about racism? When do you teach your privileged child about their privilege? Because if you never teach or tell your children these things, they are wholly at the mercy of whatever they can glean from their friends, their experiences and the media as a whole.
These omissions, which presume the heterosexual white reader with white, male, fully- abled children represent an act of violence. They represent an industry that knows exactly who they cater to. They represent an industry that continues the myth that “normal” families don’t deal with these issues, which creates a culture of exclusion for less privileged parents.
So even more than I despise the constant flood of what I’ve dubbed “mom memes” on my Facebook feed, I truly loathe the way people have found a way to commercialize and create violence within what is perhaps the most sacred space: the most ancient act of childrearing.
—Zoë Dove, 17
Read about contributing editor Zoë Dove on our staff page!