It's OK to Give the World Less
The double-bind of writing about motherhood & marriage
I’ve been chatting with a young woman who creates content around motherhood and marriage for a living — content much like mine, but less about kids and more in defense of women. She faces backlash and judgement everyday. Not just about her work and opinions, but also about her face, her body, the way she talks.
This is life as a woman online.
She’s burnt-out, she’s exhausted and now she’s experiencing health issues. When I learned that she was struggling, I slid into her DMs; the digital version of an older mom sidling up next to you at the playground to give you life advice you never asked for. I apologized for being “that mom” but encouraged her to remember this:
You don’t owe anybody sh*t.
“But,” she asked, “I worry that if I don’t share what I’m going through, the stuff that’s really hard, that people won’t get to have the experience of knowing they’re not alone.”
I know exactly what she means. It feels important to let other people know that there are people like them, people whose kids are struggling with neurodivergences, with being bullied, with gender identity or questions around their sexuality. People should know that not every marriage that looks great on Insta is actually that great. People should know that there are other moms with sleep disorders or even addictions. Women should know that we don’t deserve to be invisible in our families, to always come last.
People should know how much we struggle so that, when they struggle, they don’t feel alone.
I’ve been battling this for years — from the first time I wrote an article about one of my kids, an article I wish I could erase from the internet, this has been on my mind. I revisited the inner battle last week when I entertained the idea of writing about how one of my older children matured and grew from a very awkward boy with a learning challenge to a confident, competent, very tall teen. But his story is not mine to tell. And so I wait, always wondering if there’s someone who needs to hear this story that is going untold.
I think about writing about my marriage’s darkest parts — and I don’t do it. Nor do I write about my general discomfort with my role as a wife and mom, my insecurities around my ability to do either of them well. And then I stop.
What am I willing to hand over to the public? What, if it was seized on by the anonymous people who hate me, would give them a type of ammunition that would actually hurt me somewhere deep inside? Did I share too much about my kids when I wrote that Twitter thread and a viral article for The New York Times about them seeing racist and other bigoted content on their social media? If so, was it worth it to be the one who finally caught parents’ attention around the globe?
I have to be online for work, just like the gal I was presumptuously advising. We can’t escape it. Still, I advised her to take a month away from her personal socials to see if some of what she’s facing is due to her own personal online presence and interactions, even if she can’t escape it for her day job.
But I know it’s not that easy.
You build up an audience, you figure out the exact number of postings to make per week, the time of day, the setting, the topics … you figure out what works. And that’s what makes you good at this. The fact that you are willing to work and tweak and change and work some more and then tweak again when the algorithm or readers’ expectations change.
That was what made the OG momfluencers good at it, too. Not all thrived in the spotlight, and some didn’t survive it.
Walking away from it for 30 days means having to reset your relationship with the algorithms. Things change so much in 30 days, and those who are not “terminally online” can’t understand it. I get how hard it is to leave your algorithm, to know that when you come back,
What’s worse, when you have 250,000+ followers (which I do not!) people worry about you. They may comb your archives to figure out exactly what’s wrong — even if you tell them why you’re taking a break. Cruel, toxic losers may monetize their gossip about you and drive you even deeper.
If you’re like me, the worst thing you can imagine on a personal level may even happen: people being concerned about you.
Most of us are in this gig because we are caretakers.
We want to help others and be an outlet for people to see themselves and find hope or advice. We want to represent our lives while living our lives, able to at home with our children.
So what do we do? How much should we share in the name of being honest — truly honest? What should we give of ourselves in order to be of service to our readers, followers and fans?
“The world can live with less of you every day,” I told her, “in order to have you around for more of your days.”
And I stand by that.
Joanna Schroeder is a feminist writer, editor and media critic and co-author of the forthcoming book, TALK TO YOUR BOYS. Links and clips available via Linktree. She serves as executive editor of the YourTango Experts division.
A vibey song for today: