I was recently reading an article about queer parents, “(How) Does the Sexual Orientation of Parents Matter” by Stacey and Biblarz, and hit up against a not uncommon academic term for a lesbian non-biological mother — “social mother.” The whole time I was reading the paper (which is really good, by the way) I kept getting distracted and kind of pissed off by being called a “social mother.” So I started to think about why I was having such strong feelings and what I really want to be called.
There are those in the queer parenting movement that don’t like the term non-biological mother to refer to those of us who have children that are biologically related to our spouses. We are mothers, period. I’m certainly not going to introduce myself at the playground by saying, “Hi, I’m Gail, Ira’s non-biological mom, and Leigh’s biological mom. Nice to meet you!” Ugh. I’m Gail, Ira and Leigh’s mom. Enough said.
But sometimes it’s not enough said. If I want to think about or talk about the differences between being a mom who gives birth and a mom whose wife gives birth, I need a way to refer to specifically to these ways of becoming a mother.
Personally, I like to use GP (gestational parent) and NGP (non-gestational parent). We started to use this terminology when I was pregnant with Leigh and Lyn got a card from her dad in the mail which referred to how they were both going to be non-gestational parents. I like using NGP because it draws a link between being a mom whose partner gave birth and being a father. Non-gestational lesbian moms aren’t fathers, but we do have a lot in common with fathers, especially during pregnancy and infancy. We share an outsider status in our own families that we have to work to overcome. We share having roles in our families that the world often does not see or respect. So I like language that establishes that connection. I think using the term NGP can also forge a connection to straight women who have children via surrogates, and, in some ways, to adoptive parents. These are not the same thing as having your partner carry your child, but there are parallels that are interesting to explore.
At other times, I like to use the terms bio-mom and non-bio-mom, which are useful when I want to talk about lesbian mothers in particular. There is the problem, though, that both NGP and non-bio-mom are terms of negation, which does rankle. I’d rather be identified for something I am rather than something I’m not.
That leads directly to terms like “social mother” or “co-mother” that don’t have the problem of negation. I suppose that Lyn and I are co-mothers, and that’s a fine term, except when it is applied to the NGP alone. But it is useless for any discussion of differences between the experiences of two co-mothers, one of whom gave birth.
After reading the article that used the term social mother and being angry for a while, I finally figured out what was really bothering me. First, “social mother” is often paired with the use of “mother” for the other parent. If one parent is the “social mother” and the other one is the “mother” then you’ve got one “real” mom, and one mom who isn’t as important. Pairing “social mom” with “bio-mom” could avoid that issue. But the real problem I’m having with “social mom” is that being a “social mother” sounds like a permanent active status. Who am I? Apparently I’m Ira’s social mother, the mother that people recognize socially. That status is an on-going, permanent state. On the other hand, if I’m Ira’s non-biological mother or his NGP, then I’m his mother and I didn’t give birth to him. The modifier of “non-gestational” occurred while he was in-utero and being born. With that over with, the “non-gestational” or “non-bio” modifier simply gives you some historical information. I’m Ira’s mom, and if you want to know how I came to be his mom, the “non-biological” part tells you. But as a “social mom,” I feel like I’m always different, and frankly, always inferior.
Don’t get me wrong. I never forget, even for a moment, that I am Leigh’s GP and Ira’s NGP. I’m no more likely to do that than I am to forget for a moment that I am a woman. Not only that, I would never want to forget how either of my children came into the world. But on the other hand, it is not an important fact in our day-to-day interactions. It’s a part of our history and the kids’ histories, and it comes up sometimes when we think about traits Lyn and I share with the kids, but if I were writing a summary of important facts about our family for a friend, teacher, or babysitter, I certainly wouldn’t include who gave birth to whom.
So, as usual, I’m over analyzing, but that’s what we like to do here at FTST. I’d like to hear from all of you out there reading who are lesbian moms –what do you like to be called? In what context? I’d also like to hear from adoptive parents because I wonder about the use of “mom” versus “adoptive mom” and how both of those terms sit with you.
* Title edited not to imply an assumption all lesbian parents are co-parenting, thanks to lesbian SMC mom friend S for the heads up. (used to be “how do we refer to lesbian parents”)
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What a really thoughtful, well done post on a complicated and sometimes painful topic. You rock!
Nice post! How about referring to the NGP as “mom” and the GP as “bio-mom”? Or saying “parent” and “gestational parent”? Since the bio-parent is usually the one considered to be the “real” parent (in straight couples too!), this might rebalance things in a helpful way, decreasing the bio-parent’s privilege and increasing the other parent’s privilege. I think this is what is often done in adoptive families — the adoptive mom is “mom” and the birth mom is “birth mother” or “biological mother”. Just a thought.
well written post- it’s really hit the head on something that I have been struggling with lately, now that I am moving into the world of NGP. Especially as I step out of the role on GP, and watching how individuals that I interact with on a daily basis and how they accept or now interact with my family. For me, I typically go with bio-mom and non-bio mom I guess for no other reason that NGP and GP make it sound a little to clinical for my liking.
We’re just moms here (and we also are taking turns with being pregnant). When people ask they usually formulate it as, “did you carry [son] or did [wife]?” or “Were you the one pregnant with [son]?” – and never “which one of you is the biological/real mom” which I real appreciate.
The times when it comes up (like recently when I was talking to a dad about how the newborn stage is different when you’re the not the one who gave birth), I use “non-gestational-parent” to refer to the parents who didn’t give birth.
I don’t like “biological mom” because it’s very vague. Is it referring to the person who is genetically connected, or to the person who gave birth? Also, to me that term suggests that the only contribution the bio-mom made was to give birth, and then split… I think I have that association because I’ve heard it used by adoptees to refer to their birth mother who gave them up.
The terms biological parent and gestational parent will also be very problematic for our family structure in particular – not with the one we have and the one I’m currently gestating, but with our third kid. I did IVF to get pregnant, and we have 5 frozen embryos that we’ll be using while still continuing with our “taking turns being pregnant” plan. So for #3 the gestational mom will actually not be the same as the genetic mom… so who would be the “biological mother” in that case, anyway?
I’m totally okay with “adoptive mom” – it’s probably what I’d chose if I had to specify in more detail for some reason.
I really dislike “social mother” – it implies that the other mom is NOT being social with the kids. So, I’m really not a fan of that.
what a great post!
like guinevere, “we are just moms here.” i never use any of those qualifying terms – i’m “mommy/mummy” and my partner is “mama.” everyone in our lives knows how our children were born, so it rarely comes up.
when i do face those questions from a new (nosy) person, i generally just explain who gave birth to which child. like, “i carried (oldest daughter), and my partner carried the twins.” i dont like any of those bio/non-bio, gm/ngm distinctions for the reasons you refer to – they always make one feel “less than.” we are both mothers, period.
looking forward to coming back and reading what others say…thanks for starting this discussion!
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I found post really interesting. It wouldn’t occur to me to ask a mom in a same-sex relationship if she carried her child or not and I refer to my friends as “Jamie’s/Jose’s moms.” I understand why the designation of GP and NGP may be helpful at times, but in my general world, I just think ‘mom,’ just as I think of my sister who has biological and adoptive children as ‘mom’ without designation of which she birthed. I am not trying to diminish the differing experiences being a GP vs. a NGP, but mostly, parenting makes you a parent in my book.
Hi Gail,
I really enjoyed your post post would love to re-post in on Goodkin, my lifestyle site for “Modern” families. We have a readership of around 20,000 a month and think this piece would be of great interest.
Let me know.
All the best,
Jen
Good topic. I have to say, the term ‘social mother’ makes me cringe. 99% of the time, we are both just ‘moms.’ It is that rare occasion that someone will ask who carried him that we will say ‘she is the bio (or birth) mom.’ And those are pretty much the only terms we use. It doesn’t bother me to be called the non-bio mom, which I will sometimes use when talking about my personal experience. It doesn’t make me feel less-than…it’s more of a fact to me.
Guinevere brought up an interesting point I never thought about. It would not make sense for my lesbian friends (one wife donated her eggs to the other who carried) to say bio or non-bio mom since that wouldn’t apply. They would have to use ‘birth’ or ‘gestational’ mother in their case.
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We have several friends who are lesbian couples and have children. We just say so-and-so has two moms. Sometimes, to distinguish, we say “Gabrielle’s mom Deb and Gabrielle’s mom Sue. We don’t worry about who is the biological mom and who is not (for one thing it’s obvious because, in all the cases we know, the children happen to look like their biological mother- just as with Ira and Leigh). In the families we know, the kids refer to both moms as “mom” and it doesn’t seem to cause any confusion, though sometimes you hear things like “No, my other mom.” All the alternatives, like bio-mom, ngp, social mom sound a bit weird to me (unless you’re using “bio-mom” as short for “bionic mom”) and I wouldn’t want to be called any of them. We know one couple who adopted a child so they are both non-bio moms, but she just calls them both mom. I understand that for some conversations, you might want to distinguish bio-mom from non-bio-mom, but those conversations are probably ones where you are trying to explain your situation for the benefit of someone’s education and then you can just say that “I had Leigh and Lyn had Ira.” I don’t really see why you need separate distinctions beyond that. I guess in the literature, there needs to be a way to distinguish between bio-mom and nonbio-mom, but I don’t see why there needs to be a way in every day life. But then I haven’t been there. And I’m still trying to work out what to call my transsexual 15-year old, “he” or “she”.
“And I’m still trying to work out what to call my transsexual 15-year old, “he” or “she”.”
Wendy, not to sound snarky, and unrelated to op, but why not ask your child what pronouns they would prefer?
Hey cuz,
As always, thoughtful and insightful. I’m finding a similar semiotic issue in being the partner of someone with children. While Keith and I have no plans to get married, I’m very much a part of the day-to-day structure of that family. As I move more fully into a parental role with the kids, the question of self-reference arises. In describing to others my role in the kids’ lives, “dad’s girlfriend” certainly doesn’t sum it up, but “step mom” isn’t technically accurate (and the term just bristles…)
I guess it comes down to forging my own parental identity and getting comfortable in that role without relying on the signal reference of a parental title.
In any case, give my love to the fam and keep up the fantastic writing!
xoj
Thanks to everyone for all the awesome comments! There are so many different ways to become a parent, and I think all of us want to see our particular journey reflected in the outside world. It’s hard to feel like there are no role models out there or that there is no good way of referring to our experiences.
I’m also thinking right now that we all have three aspects of any role — the one that we use to interface with the wider world, the one that we use to interface with close companions, and one that is really internal. In terms of how I think of language, to the wider world I’m just one of Leigh and Ira’s moms, although people are sometimes curious about how we acquired our children so I might have occasional to mention who gave birth to who.
It is only with my closest companions or internally that I have need for a distinction between being a mom who gave birth and a being a mom who didn’t because, in fact, it is important, but it’s important to me, not to other people. It’s important to those of us who think a lot about what it means to be part of a two-mom family, socially and legally. It important to both Lyn and I because our path to motherhood was different (both from other people’s and from each other) and that had a lasting impact on how we view motherhood and parenthood. I think there’s no one-size-fits-all fix to these naming issues because there are no one-size-fits-all parents!
While I completely sympathize with the the posts here about there not being language to describe these roles, I’m a bit uncomfortable with the assumption that we all have the same bio-mom or non-bio-mom experiences. What does it “mean” to be a bio-mom? What does it “mean” to be a non-bio-mom? Those things are personal and very individual. My partner and I have worked very hard to bond equally with our 5-year-old son–differently, yes, but equally. Most two-mom families we know privilege the relationship between the bio-mom and child. Why? There seems to be this assumption that that’s “natural.” I agree that nature plays a role, but I think we overstate what that role is. In any case, every “mom” is different from every other “mom” because every experience is individual. That’s why these other terms (like “social mom”) don’t make sense to me, because they assume that we can create categories of similar mothering experiences, and I don’t think that’s right, at least not beyond that already familiar category “mom.”
I refuse to use BIO in any context. It is carrier of the child in our case. And I am the carrier of our children, my partner is and will be the equal parent. And we have a “donor” not a father or dad. And what people assume is nothing in our case for the equality towards my partner as I am more rights focused and having the inclusion of my partner in all aspects of caring for our child/children. We both have strengths. We have used both eggs and same donor and I have carried, so my blood and her’s runs through our children. Making both Mothers by law and human nature. I have seen and been a part of too many mothers being excluded or when they break up the non carrier being excluded in all aspects with children or child. When the child/children was conceived together, in relation to aspects of the law, medical facilities, education, and day to day welfare of the child/children. What amazes me is the non carrier is expected to support the child financially, emotionally and yet still is not recgonized in most countries under the family law act as having equal rights or access to the children/child. Our family has two mothers, just because they grew in one’s tummy does not mean they did not grow in ones heart. And that is exactly what we tell all of our children, you might not have grown in my tummy (just like adopted/foster children) but you did grow in our hearts. As love makes a family not gender, sexual orientation, or anything else.
Very interesting reading. I agree wholeheartedly with Gail. And the term social mother doesn’t even sound right. I tend to prefer gestational mom and non gestational mom because you’re right, outside of gestation, we are both moms. I have a question though. I met my partner towards the beginning of my pregnancy. I tried to conceive for almost a year before we met. I was be a single lesbian mom. My daughter is now a year old. My partner and I married shortly after her birth. I can’t imagine another partner loving my daughter like she. But sometimes I think she feels bad that I consider her “my” daughter and not “our” daughter. She says she understands because this is something I planned and worked for while I was single. But I still think she wishes I would say “our.” Now she is trying to get pregnant so we can grow our family and she can experience pregnancy. I am very worried I will not this child as much as mine. I worry I won’t treat them equally. Hetero women have said it’s normal to wonder if you can love another child as much as your current, but I dont think it’s the same because she is the gestational mom to all of the children. Are there any differences in how you feel about your gestational kids and your partner’s gestational children?
I realize I’m reading this post long after the fact, but it is so interesting. It’s also really interesting to read all the comments, which kind of come together to show how many different takes different families have on the question. I love your point, Gail, that there is an internal definition, a for-close-people definition, and a for-the-rest-of-the-world definition. Ultimately isn’t that true for so many parts of our identity?!
One question I have, where some people alluded to the answer but didn’t actually discuss, is how DO you handle it when you feel like it’s a none-of-your-business situation? Recently an adoptive mom who is becoming increasingly important in my daughter’s life asked me “who’s her birth parent?” It took me by surprise so I answered, but later I thought about it and wished I’d asked her why it mattered. But I don’t know how to ask that without sounding unduly defensive… I mean, I agree that it ultimately DOES matter, but for different reasons than the world wants it to. I also really empathize with an external desire to mentally organize other people’s families- I find myself doing this all the time- but I long to find non-hostile ways to challenge or at lease question this desire for organization. I’m wondering if anyone out there has tips on that.
oh- and when I say I “answered,” I mean I answered what I knew she was actually trying to ask, not what she actually asked. “Birth mom” in itself is a kind of weird term. I had the contractions but my wife and I were both really, really part of that birth.
Clio — Your comment is timely because Lyn and I were just talking about this tonight. We’ve been getting more questions about our family than we are used to because Leigh is starting school and there’s a lot of new people that don’t yet know us. Leigh’s teacher basically asked me this question at an open house tonight. I answered, but it made me a bit uncomfortable. I think at least at this stage in Leigh’s life, with the question out there I’m going to answer it because I want Leigh to know that it’s something we talk about and not secret. But Lyn suggested that it would have been good to follow up my answer with something like “…but we are both equally parents to Leigh, and both full legal parents.”
I think I like this idea because what makes me uncomfortable about such questions is they really feel like someone is asking “who is the REAL mom,” and maybe they are. But perhaps we could see it more generously as people trying to organize and understand our families as you point out. So maybe I can answer, but also give the information that I think is important — that we are both the real moms.
I’ve decided I’m going to try on giving people more information than they asked for when they ask and see if that shifts anything for me — I’ll try to remember to report back about the experiment!
And I love the way that you put the comment about “birth mom” — If we call Lyn Ira’s birth mother, that makes it sound as though I wasn’t even involved, and I remember way to much of that labor to have been uninvolved!
I like this way of looking at it, Gail- the giving more information than a person asked for as a way of reframing the question helpfully. I’m definitely curious how it pans out. I also really, really appreciate your point that in some ways what matters most is the message you send to Leigh by answering/not answering the question.
School is a doozy for this kind of stuff, and I bet a lot of people find interactions with school to be a big time for these questions coming up. My experience also happened at my daughter’s new preschool.
I have to say that as a teacher I often question why I’m asking families the things I ask them. I really believe that the more I know about a child’s story, the better equipped I am to be a good teacher to them. On the other hand, I have definitely been guilty of more prurient, idly curious, or even gossipy questioning, and I know most of my colleagues have too.
Worse still are the questions that I’m asking families because their answers mean something to me that they probably shouldn’t. Like, if a child is struggling with reading and I ask if there is a history of dyslexia in their family, would the answer really impact the extent to which I pursue intervention for that child? Should it?
When people ask who gave birth to my daughter, what is my answer meaning to them? Does it, as you suggest, mean that they are wondering who has the legal responsibility, or who does more of the care? Does it mean they are thinking “oh, poor thing, she’s going to have really bad skin just like her ‘birth mom’ when she grows up?” or worse yet and a really big fear, “oh, poor thing, what a confusing family situation she has?” Is it just ‘idle curiosity?’ Is there really such a thing?
On a side note, one of the things that makes me craziest about almost everything I’ve ever read about queer families’ interactions with schools is that we FOREVER assume that our children’s teachers will be straight.
Anyway. Let us know what happens with the too-much-info strategy.
I have carried, so my blood and her’s runs through our children. Making both Mothers by law and human nature. I have seen and been a part of too many mothers being excluded or when they break up the non carrier being excluded in all aspects with children or child. |
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