Growing up, I thought it was tough being the daughter of a migrant. But on Mama’s Day, I remember my mom’s struggle and how it has made me a better person.
The professional, older mother who is constantly negotiating conflicts between her career expectations and having a young child at home is not a face you see all that often in Hallmark cards, especially if that face is an immigrant and a former teen mom.
I spent part of my childhood in pain and not talking about it. It was better to have a cracked rib than make my mom spend her hard-earned money to take me to the doctor and get it x-rayed.
As we approach Mother’s Day, I’m thinking about my mom and the women from Guatemala who cared for me when I was young and the millions of other mothers who are undermined because of inhumane policies and practices.
As we get ready to celebrate and honor the work that mamas do every day, I am struck by the severe disconnect between what immigrant mamas need to take care of their families and our current immigration policies.
What would you do if you arrived in a foreign country ready to study on an educational exchange and only to discover you had been “adopted” by a family that thought you were an orphan? (Via Melissa Harris Perry)
Supporters of changing Minnesota’s law banning same-sex marriage bring their kids along to a news conference announcing a bill to repeal that ban.
In the campaign’s SMS exchange about Anaya, the pregnant teen character who is bullied at the prom, she is no longer called a “fat loser”—now she’s just called a “loser.” Progress?
The New York Human Resource Administration’s new teen pregnancy prevention campaign takes shame as a prevention tactic to an entirely new level.
Real-life individuals in same-sex couples, or those who live with someone of a different race or generation from themselves, often face daily struggles to protect their families from legal uncertainty and publicly articulated disgust.