Marriage and Parenting

Often, marriage marks the first step toward building a family. Welcoming a new life takes you across another important threshold. You become a parent and, in many cultures, are immediately responsible for a life other than your own. But the actual act of giving birth may require some help. Henry W. Bannarn’s Midwife (Breath of Life) (about 1940) sculpture depicts a midwife embracing a newborn, slapping its back to ensure the child takes its first breath. This wood sculpture recognizes the frequently overlooked role that midwives—especially Black midwives—play during birth. In spite of the physical and psychological assurance that these Black women have historically offered during (and leading up to) childbirth, why has their critical role been so thoroughly ignored? In her paper, Birthing, Blackness, and the Body: Black Midwives and Experiential Continuities of Institutional Racism, Keisha La’Nesha Goode attributes the denigration of Black midwives to the medicalization of childbirth and America’s history of institutional racism, writing:

“The [early 20^th century] discourse of sanitary science and germ theory of disease positioned midwives—distanced from the credentialed legitimacy of physicians and the perceived precision of modern scientific knowledge and application—in a very vulnerable position. Physicians and hospitals became definitive symbols of safety, sanitation and cleanliness. The conventional thought regarding the ignorance, incompetence, unsafety and uncleanliness of midwives of the time cannot be disassociated from race, and specifically for my purposes, blackness.” §

Bannarn’s midwife exhibits none of these qualities. Rather, she appears stern and concentrated, with her brow furrowed and shoulders arched. She concentrates on achieving two primary tasks: simultaneously protect the mother and protect the child. Midwives bear witness to this rite of passage more than anyone else. With this sculpture, Bannarn celebrates the poise, strength, and composure of Black midwives and gives them the recognition that they deserve.

As babies and infants grow older, they learn to mimic their parents. This goes for many animals, not just humans. They begin by mirroring gestures and mumbling familiar sounds. When they’re old enough, they learn more complex skills, like walking and talking. Before long, young children are exposed to our entrenched gender constructs, whether they recognize it or not. One such example is applying make-up. Carrie Mae Weems captures such a scene in her photograph Untitled (Make-Up with Daughter) (1990). Weems has situated herself at the head of a bare table in a kitchen that is stripped of all decor. Her daughter sits beside her and applies lipstick, mirroring Weems. Although it is unlikely that Weems’s young daughter has introduced lipstick to her daily routine, she is still familiarizing herself with it and learning to associate this activity with her mother and womanhood, more generally. This is just as much of a rite of passage for Weems. She must confront the reality that her child is growing up, as her daughter begins to play with this highly gendered activity. No words are exchanged: mother shows daughter, daughter learns from mother. The make-up itself is not the photograph’s focal point; the pair is simply sharing a tender moment and has given us a privileged look at a day in the life of the Weems household.