Despite this law, I have been asked to relocate and cover-up, and have been harassed for nursing my son in public no less than three times here in New Jersey (and once when on vacation in Kentucky).  In the past, an explanation of the law and a firm refusal to hide myself and my baby away sufficiently defused the situation.  Last Friday at Crystal Springs Aquatic Center in East Brunswick, I encountered something entirely different.

Some friends and I had arranged to spend the afternoon at Crystal Springs, barbecuing lunch, swimming with our children, and enjoying the beautiful summer weather.  Our day began wonderfully.  David made us some delicious burgers and hot dogs, the kids loved the small slides, and the lazy river was relaxing, as lazy rivers tend to be.  After my son woke from a brief nap, we joined our friends in the swimming pool.

Since Ronin was still sleepy, he asked to nurse and I obliged.

A few minutes into nursing, a lifeguard came over and asked me to leave the area.  Thinking quickly, my friend Kristin asked, “Why?”  The immediate (and only) answer was that other patrons were offended.  Being that we happened to be a group of outspoken lactivists, and Kristin being a La Leche League leader, we cited the laws protecting a mother’s right to breastfeed in any place she is otherwise allowed to be.  The lifeguard left to seek out her manager.

Assistant Manager Donna Strobels approached us minutes later, with the same request that I leave the pool and cover up because other customers were offended by public breastfeeding.  Again, we cited the law and refused to comply.  She told us that she was going to call the police.

At this point, the bigger kids were getting tired of the pool and decided to move on to the slides.  On the way there, we reiterated to Ms. Strobels that I had the legal right to nurse at the water park — at which point she agreed to talk to David but sent the rest of our group away.

After a long wait, the police showed up.  Ronin and I went over to speak with them, feeling bad that David (and Malcolm, who had joined him outside the pool office) was spending so much time and energy fighting our battle.  There were two officers, one male and one female.  They initially agreed that I had the legal right to nurse in public, but then proceeded to spend the next hour trying to get me to say I would be more discreet.   I said no each time, explaining that people are offended by all kinds of things that they might see in public.

[I'm quite certain that there are, for instance, parents who don't want their children to see a gay couple, or an interracial couple.  Surely others are offended by skimpy bikinis and imperfectly toned bodies.  But none of us has the right not to be offended when we set foot outside our homes.  We can avert our eyes, complain to our friends, and even talk to our children about why we're so put off by what we've seen, but there is little else we can do when we see something we don't like.]

To make a long story short, our conversation with the police continued in circles for an hour.  They asked me why I was unwilling to “be discreet,” and I gave them reasons — including the fact that I am a lactivist and believe that children absolutely should be exposed to breastfeeding as a normal part of life.  They were bullies, as cops tend to be; I assume they expected that I would eventually concede if they held me long enough.

After an hour of the same conversation on repeat, their sergeant called them off, and they told us we were “free to go” after a final lecture on compromise and being discreet.  I let them know in no uncertain terms that I would not be following their suggestions, and Ronin, David, Malcolm, and I rejoined our group.

Coming away from the situation, we laughed at the absurdity of it all, but we were also angry.  The treatment we received from Ms. Strobels and the East Brunswick police qualifies as harassment, and it is nothing short of insane that the act of little me, feeding my son, could be made into a huge ordeal just because a few people are prudes and a few more are ignorant.  Sadly, I am sure that I am not the first nursing mother to be reprimanded by the lifeguards and management at Crystal Springs, but I am planning to be the last.

A group of us will be returning to the water park for a nurse in one day soon.  If you want to join us, check back here or email me.  We will be selecting a date this week, and any breastfeeding mothers, babies, toddlers, and older children who want to join us are more than welcome.

My family?

My personal moral code?

Yes, to all of the above.

I do not pledge allegiance to any flags, nor any republics for which they stand.  Unlike many of the people I know, I never thought much about the pledge when I was in a position to protest saying it myself.  During my schooling, I stood and mindlessly mumbled out an apathetic oath to the stars and bars every morning.  I dropped “under god” right off once I began embracing my atheism, but I still stood and muttered along with everyone else in the room.

In hindsight, I wish someone had taken the time to discuss the pledge with me, and to let me know that I could decide for myself whether or not I wanted to participate.   My parents were politically uninvolved in most respects, and I’m sure it never crossed their minds.  I’m sure they would have explained the pledge the same way my mom continues to explain other parenting decisions today — “it was just what you did at the time.”

While they’re at home, my kids will likely learn about the pledge for their own information, in a capacity where we can discuss exactly what it means, its evolutions over time (particularly the addition of “under god”), and  how they feel about repeating it.  If for some reason, they end up schooled before we can have this kind of discussion, I will ask that they be kept out of the pledge while they are learning about it at home.  They can take the attendance to the office, visit the bathroom, or do any number of other, more valuable things during that time.   My children will not be used as parrots for the government’s patriotic agenda.

We are not patriots.  There may come a time when I love the country I live in, or at least when I feel less ashamed to admit my nation of residence, but there will never be a time when it is appropriate for young children to drone out a pledge to this, or any other, flag.

I beg to differ.

We don’t censor what our children are exposed to in the media.  We listen to a variety of music, watch some of the popular prime time shows, and visit our local movie theater with great frequency.  My son has chosen to avoid most television and isn’t quite ready to accompany us to the cinema again (though he did when he was a baby), but my daughter loves the experience of going to the movies.  She’s seen a variety of films, including horror and comedy, spanning all ratings.  Contrary to the popular expectations of the naysayers, she’s never had a nightmare and doesn’t act out inappropriately in any way.  What our viewing choices have given her is the terrific opportunity to learn about and discuss many issues, with guidance from her mom and dad.

Seeing as many parents shy away from conversations about war, sexuality, and other intense topics, it’s no surprise that they censor media depicting these things as well.  Perhaps they are doing it out of laziness, and perhaps it’s a misguided attempt to extend the innocence of childhood, but I can’t help but to feel that it’s a terrible plan overall.

What do you accomplish when you censor a child’s viewing?  Certainly, you make the desired material that much more attractive.  You also create an environment in which adults are treated like a distinctly separate class of citizens.  And finally, you contribute to the puritanical values of a society that has been greatly damaged by those values.  I’m thinking here of the Baby Scoop Era, the horrid treatment of gay, lesbian, and transgender people, restricted access to the morning-after pill, and a great many other events governed by backwards thinkers purporting to profess chastity, innocence, and virtue.  Gag.

By allowing our children to choose for themselves what they do and don’t want to see, not only do we give them some credit — for being able to separate fantasy from reality, for being able to make intelligent choices, and for being individuals worthy of respect and consideration — but we also open the doors of communication for them.  There’s nothing that I, as a mom, cannot explain to my children, and there are plenty of things I’d rather they learned from me first.

Turns out, not censoring is good parenting, after all.

I’ve only recently begun (trying) to apply the same high standards I have for truthful language in adoption, abortion, and other issues in the education arena.   Here, I think it is most important to be distinct in separating education from schooling.

I don’t believe that children are sent to school to be educated — though many parents may be tricked into thinking this is the case.  Rather, they are sent to school so that they can be schooled; schooled in conformity, in memorization, in artificial social situations, and in preparation for life as a cog in the corporate wheel.  Education is of little interest to the school system.  In fact, if real education ever does take place within the confines of a school, it’s surely coincidental.

As a home educator, I take great pride in offering my children an experiential education.  My goals for them do not match up with the goals of our local school board.  While I sometimes wish they would “question authority but not [their] mother,” our home is not an obedience school.  Rather, it is a place where my children can be guided by their interests, learning in meaningful, rather than artificial ways.  We don’t block out hours of our day for learning, for work, and for play.  Instead, we seek out opportunities to find the educational value in all that we do.  My children are not being prepped for the so-called real world in which drudgery is accepted as a fact of life.  That’s not my world, nor is it a world I hope they join some day.  They’re getting a subversive education, for sure.

Sometimes, other parents are going to take offense at me saying that their children are schooled, rather than educated. Sometimes, I stumble over saying that I am educating my children at home or that they are home educated.  This is a new language journey for me, and mistakes happen.  And sure, it is easier to say we’re homeschooling — but do we really want anyone to think that what we do is anything like what’s done in a school?

I suppose I should start by saying that I strongly disagree with parenting that shelters kids from reality.  I wasn’t a sheltered child, and my children are growing up with even more knowledge than I had at their ages — knowledge that is sometimes beautiful, sometimes upsetting, sometimes hilarious, and sometimes infuriating, just like the world itself.  How can I teach my kids about all the difficult issues around them, if I cover their eyes and ears every waking moment, filtering all seriousness out of their lives?  As I see it, I have precious little time in which to be the single most valuable influence on my children, and I am not going to waste a moment. 

Talking about politics with my kids, something I started when my oldest was just about two, is a huge part of our lives.  Contrary to the point of view expressed in the Mothering article (and elsewhere online), my daughter is not a sad child forced to grow old before her time.  She is a bright and happy five year old who enjoys making mud pies and playing with her friends — and who can also converse with adults about Barack Obama, abortion rights, the environment, and war (among other things).  Rather than destroying her child, political awareness has enhanced it by making her a more vocal, active participant in the world around her.

I feel the same about modeling activism for my children by involving them in protests, rallies, and volunteering.  I don’t want them to think of activism as something mysterious that their mama does alone, while leaving them behind.  I want them to experience the great feelings that come from joining with a group of people who are all passionate about an issue, not afraid to speak up and be counted, ready to make themselves heard.   Not having been involved in those things as a child, I remember feeling intimidated when I first started — the kind of intimidation that could easily cause a person to back away entirely.

I want my kids to grow into happy, healthy adults, but I also want them to be politically aware and involved.  And it’s never too soon to help them develop the good habits that will follow them into adulthood!   

Though I’ve been blogging in one way or another since my oldest child was born, my blogs have all been either personal in nature — written as a way to communicate with my friends — or singularly focused on one issue or another.  It’s been my hope to someday work on a blog that combines the things about which I care the most, namely parenting and political and social issues.

It is also my belief that these two things are very much linked for myself and many other wonderful people I know.  I cannot set aside my politics while I parent any more than I can extract myself from my motherhood when I vote. 

To borrow a line from the witty webpage of the lovely Comic Mom: “What makes a (in this case Political) Mama?”

Five and a half year old Rylie Dale and two year old Ronin Michael have given me the privilege of being called Mama, and I am proud to claim the following political labels for myself:  activist, atheist, pro-choice, feminist, anti-adoption, pacifist, unAmerican, liberal, radical, hippie, environmentalist.  I am far less proud of this, but I must also claim a Political Science degree which admittedly cost way more in dollars than it cost in both time and effort. 

There you have the ingredients for one tireless political mama who is also a writer.  To quote the wise Ms. Ani DiFranco, “If you like it, let it be, and if you don’t, please do the same.” 

And with that, I’m off to breastfeed the next revolution.