Sometimes it's really hard to bring up gift economies and social wellness. I get a lot of push back about how naive my worldview is. I'm getting better at standing my ground, but there is often very little I can say to sway people into understanding belief in the value of community care is the most responsible act we can initiate. It is much simpler to live an insular life- until it's not anymore.
What happens when we all decide to avoid community care? An illustration I can imagine when is to think about how many times I encounter a "No Public Restroom" sign. What a bizarre stance to make. I mean, I've worked my share public-facing jobs where I had to clean up toilets after people I didn't know. Even after that, I wouldn't solve the problem of poor bathroom etiquette by stopping access. Just because there isn't a public toilet, doesn't magically mean humans stop needing to use one. People need to eat, and people need to excrete. Alive ones do, anyway. Aaaanyway...
Why the toilet talk? I think you can tell a lot about a culture based on how accessible basic human needs are. What is more basic than bathroom business? As a young mom, there were days and errands I knew I would never be able to successfully complete because there wouldn't be a changing room for an infant, or a toilet for a potty-practicing toddler. With two kids born 2.5 years apart, that means for around 6 years of my life, my life revolved around making sure my small humans had access to the hygiene they needed. Basic stuff! If a caregiver is out in public, and the child in their care has a blow out or an accident, I can guarantee it's not because either of those humans wanted such a messy outcome. Accidents happen, but they are a lot easier to avoid when facilities exist to care for the community.
My kids had pretty average childhoods. They weren't particularly fussy or particularly easy. I knew women caring for babies on negative hours of sleep, so I felt pretty ahead of the game. The reality on some days at home felt like I was barely holding shit together. Fractured sleep while nursing, acclimating hormones from pregnancy, and learning new relationships with my children and my partner meant I was mapping a whole new life without a map. Whenever anyone asked, I thought I was supposed to accentuate the positive. Instead I was like a duck, gliding along the surface, while frantically paddling below. I was also very blessed by mother-friends with older children that knew when to care and support me without asking. They knew when to show up with a box of diapers and groceries, or when to bring by a coffee and a muffin. They taught me that to lean on my community was how our bonds grew stronger. With them I was able to feel cared for without feeling like a failure.
So here I am now. My children are more self-sufficient than they've ever been. My partner has a job that gives me the time to pursue a passion. I've moved through birth, infancy, toddler, and positions in childcare. Now I'm here to speak up for the forgotten caregivers. Bonus Room is about nurturing the nurturers barely keeping their heads high enough to say "no thanks, I'm good" when what they really need is a hot bowl of food they didn't have to cook and 30 minutes of letting their kids be kids with other kids.
Parenting, childcare, eldercare, or caring for people with disabilities does not need to be martyrdom. Our culture needs to leave the colonial mindset that all bodies must be sacrificed for profit. When nurturers are cared for, respected, and supported, they are able to be stronger and more effective caregivers. We deserve to feel supported in our passion to care for others. It is not naive to passionately support caregivers. Community Care means taking responsibility for the next generation by supporting the nurturers in the thick of it all. Imagine what they could do with that support.