“95 percent of moms say they feel judged,” says infant formula giant Similac, in a cunning new piece of advertising that doesn’t look at all like advertising.
The seven-minute video advertisement that Similac calls “the Mommy Wars documentary” features a group of new mothers making some heart-rending disclosures, with a particular focus on “judgment”: either judgments these women report receiving, or judgments they admit making of other mothers. Similac says:
#endmommywars. Let’s support each other to stop the judgment once and for all.
Hats off to Similac, the ad certainly is effective. It is moving and tender. And with almost 2m views at the time of writing, it is clearly grabbing attention.
But in a world that criticises, analyses and judges every aspect of a woman’s body and life, isn’t it more than a little hypocritical for multinationals who’ve profited from mistrust of women’s bodies for decades to suddenly wax altruism?
Judgment is defined as the drawing of a conclusion or opinion. In other words, it is utterly normal human behaviour. We all draw conclusions, share differing information and form opinions about a broad range of things, every single day. Do we like the colour our neighbour just painted their house? Did we like the place we ate dinner last night? What did you think of that book you just read? Would you send your child to the same school as your friend’s child? And on and on. Most of these judgments are unconscious, and kept to ourselves. It’s what we do with these judgments that actually matters.
And this is where companies with vested interest in the so-called “mummy wars” come in.
Patriarchal culture has maintained women’s uncertainty about their bodies (and lives) for a long time. Advertisers exploit this uncertainty, fuelling women’s fear of their body shape, size, colour, smell, its hair and its functions. This relentless power of suggestion not only sustains a lucrative market for almost every consumer product under the sun, but more insidiously, it keeps women compliant.
And now, in order to silence parents from sharing thoughts among themselves that might undercut sales, advertisers like Similac are appropriating women’s emotional reactions, too. By disparaging peer-to-peer discourse as “judgment”, by implying that a truly supportive woman reacts only with serene smiles, advertisers can undermine any information shared among women and parents. Because who wants to be that parent? The parent who is seen to be judging when they say, “Hey, did you know that formula top-ups can affect your milk supply?”
Not only are the “mummy wars” a myth designed to keep companies in profit and media outlets in clicks, they are, more condescendingly, a nod to the falsehood that “women are their own worst enemies”; that women in reproduction are unsound, and overwrought. Because even if mothers do occasionally form opinions of other mothers (because mothers are also humans), why is that considered so abhorrent? Does the presence of a foetus or baby render women incapable of owning their emotions? Of standing up for themselves?
Of course not. Women and new parents are strong, fierce and perfectly equipped with instincts. But consumerism doesn’t want you to know that.
Pregnancy and early motherhood can be a time of intense vulnerability. But this is not because women are feeble and hysterical – it’s because they’re conditioned to believe they are inadequate. Stigma, rules and control through shame surround almost every aspect of a woman’s reproductive life: conception, pregnancy, birth and early motherhood are rife with “should’s” and “should nots”.
Early parenthood is milked by commercial companies instilling doubt and a confected sense of need, but it is also a time discredited by culture – paid maternity leave is minimal, women – often isolated in houses with young children – are expected to be independent, to hide their evidence of having reproduced by breastfeeding “discreetly” and keeping children quiet in public spaces.
It’s human to observe what other humans are doing and discuss and opine. The only difference between today and the rest of human existence is that the advent of the internet means those opinions abound unrestrained.
It’s also important to remember that a lot of the time, what’s perceived as judgment isn’t actually judgment. Sharing contradictory information isn’t judgment, although it’s often labelled so. Even people being tactless aren’t always being judgmental. Particularly in conversations surrounding women’s reproduction, there tends to be a swiftness to call “judgment” as a kind of silencing tactic.
Feeling criticised can be hurtful. All women’s stories of grief or hurt are real and valid. But while it’s ideal that no new mother should ever feel judged, women don’t need multinationals promoting a product through false benevolence on their behalf – what women need is freedom from reproductive control.
For centuries, systemic misogyny has controlled women’s reproductive bodies through instilling fear and hatred. Are we now really going to accept the system policing and dictating women’s emotional reactions, too?
It’s time to move on from constant accusations of judgment. Women sharing conflicting slices of information are not warring. Women disagreeing are not warring. Sharing the singular fact of having reproduced does not make any two people alike, and the insistence that it should is patronising. But what we can insist upon is peaceful conduct, kindness even in disagreement, and real support – like bringing meals, helping with the housework, making someone laugh. And more often than not, this is how women support each other, anyway.
In motherhood, as in life, people will always come across others with different values, beliefs and experiences. To judge is human. To keep judgments to oneself, or to be tactful if asked for feedback or when sharing opinions, is simply good social etiquette. But to insist that women’s nuanced, emotional or contrary peer-to-peer discourse is “war” is infantilising, and insulting.