hospital

Breaking Patriarchal Habits

In 2020, I moved across the country, gave birth to a baby at the height of a pandemic, transferred to a new team at work, and purchased a home. I should feel like superwoman. Sometimes I do, but most of the time I don’t. Despite my accomplishments this year, I have never felt the disparities between men and women more.

When I gave birth, the hospital referred to our baby as “Boy Linda Yin” and called Steve my “delivery partner”. They didn’t want to presume him as my significant other or the baby’s father. I appreciated that. Unfortunately, it’s the only time this year that an institution has given me the advantage over Steve.

When we brought Bub home, my dad watched in confusion as Steve helped with feedings and diaper changes. My dad was rarely around to help when I was a baby, and he left my caretaking mainly to the women in the family.

It’s not just my dad. During the first few months after Bub was born, friends and other family members assumed Steve was available for outings and long phone conversations. Perhaps subconsciously they thought I’d be able to watch the baby all the time. I understand where these presumptions come from. The first few months after having a baby can be intense for a mother, especially if she’s nursing and if the baby is her first. Bub barely left my side.

I was frustrated, depressed, and resentful. Having a baby was mainly Steve’s idea. It’s not that I didn’t also want to have a baby, but I was hesitant for a while because I knew having a baby would be a burden mostly on me. It’s biological.

But, I needed Steve around to take care of me while I took care of the baby. I needed his help making sure that my water glass was full, that I ate proper meals throughout the day, that I got at least three straight hours of sleep. Equally as important, I needed Steve as a sounding board when I felt anxious and overwhelmed as a new mom.

During a pandemic when we were isolated in our home, Steve and I only had each other. I needed him more than ever when this wee bairn screamed at the top of his lungs, pooped all over his onesie, or was sound asleep on my chest, leaving me unable to get up. There is so much a dad can do to help make a mom’s life easier and it involves being physically and emotionally present.

When men support women, everyone wins.

Then, we bought a home. Banks and title companies put Steve’s name first or in many cases, only put Steve’s name on documents. Contractors did the same. It didn’t matter who the breadwinner was. Steve = man so Steve = head of the household.

When the holidays rolled around, every Christmas card we received assumed I had taken Steve’s last name. They might as well have been addressed to “the property of Steve”. My name was nowhere to be found.

Unintentional? Perhaps. But it does nothing to promote equality.

Breaking patriarchal habits, to me, means first being aware of the little things we do that contribute to inequality. I, too, am working on this. One of my annoying habits is referring to a group of people as “you guys” and calling friends “dude”.

Another habit I’m trying to break is judging women by their looks. It stems from my own deep insecurities. I grew up hating everything about myself, wishing I was someone else, never feeling like I was enough. Family members constantly compared me to others and teased me about my weight. Instead of spending so much energy worrying about how I looked and whether I acted ladylike, I could have been thinking about more productive things: how to solve climate change, how to cure cancer, how to help others.

This essay isn’t meant to be a rant about Steve or any other man. It’s more a reminder to myself and others that we are products of the generation before us. We have to all consciously unlearn the patriarchal habits engrained in us from birth. When we become woke to inequities, we can, hopefully, open up dialogues and start to change things for the better.

Sustainability Now

Global pandemic + baby = impossible zero waste

What does sustainability look like for me right now? It looks like disposable diapers, plastic shopping bags, and lots of packages at the door. Admittedly, I’m using Amazon more than I ever have (I don’t know where else to buy Vitamin D drops for infants). I’m buying plastic-wrapped items at the grocery store without reusable shopping bags (our store stopped allowing reusable bags due to COVID). My water usage has increased significantly given the additional laundry, bottles, and pump parts to wash. It feels like my pre-COVID, pre-baby zero waste efforts have gone down the drain.

Actually, my sustainability journey hit a bump in the road when I started getting really nauseated during the early weeks of my pregnancy - about a year ago. The only things that made me feel better were carbs, crackers, and cheese. And they usually came wrapped in plastic. Then came the doctor’s visits. Each appointment, blood draw, and ultrasound created some form of waste. When I actually delivered the baby, I can’t even begin to list all the single-use plastic used during my hospital stay.

Once the baby was born, people felt the need to send lots of gifts. I mean, lots of unnecessary gifts. Not only did I feel stress and guilt over the plastic I did buy, I felt stress and guilt over the plastic I didn’t buy. Not to mention all the time, energy, and waste used to disinfect everything. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just how I feel.

Sigh. Sustainability seems impossible. Zero waste seems impossible.

I’m doing the best I can. I try to use reusable diapers, but the disposable ones wick away more moisture, which means a less fussy baby. I try to only use reusable wipes. I try to use rubber pacifiers instead of silicone and plastic ones. I try to only buy wooden or rubber toys. I’ve only purchased three new sleepers for the baby; the rest of his wardrobe is secondhand. His crib and mattress are secondhand. We use bar soap, are eating a more vegan diet, and avoid synthetic fabric as much as possible. We’re not driving as much as we used to. 

But, I know this is not nearly enough. There’s so much more I want to do on the community level, the political level, the corporate level.

Simply put, there is nothing sustainable about having a baby. Well, aside from the notion of sustaining one’s lineage. Having a baby is literally the opposite of reducing my footprint. In fact, it’s creating even more of a footprint on this earth. Before we decided to have kids, I struggled with the idea of bringing a child into this world. Our natural resources are already depleted, the planet already overpopulated - why create another mouth to feed? 

Amidst deforestation, climate change, and pandemics, I don’t know what the world will look like in the next ten years. With COVID, I don’t know what the world will look like tomorrow. It’s a terrifying time to be alive. It’s a terrifying time to bring a baby into this world.

My husband and I have had long discussions about how we’d try to make growing a family as sustainable as possible. We want to teach our children how to be sustainable stewards of the Earth, to be a voice for the voiceless. We want our children to be better humans than we ever were. In a sense, we want and need our children to right our wrongs, to pay the dues of past generations.

And yet, it all seems so selfish. Children should have no obligation to us. We brought them into this world. They shouldn’t be pressured to save it.

At the very least, we need to teach our children about respecting our environment, about how our wellbeing is inextricably tied to the wellbeing of our natural world.

Sustainability now? It doesn’t exist.

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