We all come into the world through the same means: mothers.
Yet the topic of motherhood is widely debated and triggers visceral responses. Everyone has an opinion. Who can mother? What makes a “good” mother? What about adoption and IVF? Can motherhood extend beyond raising a physical being?
One thing is certain: there is no one way to encapsulate motherhood. It is a deeply personal experience, influenced by generations who have come before.
In honor of Mother’s Day, the inaugural issue of WONDERING shares the faith and convictions of three women:
A mother shares her decision to uproot her life for her son.
A “dork” whose life is turned upside down amid a humanitarian catastrophe.
A 33-year-old deliberating whether she even has a calling to motherhood.
Whether one ends up as a mother, there is a grander story behind each woman. In her series “Faces,” illustrator-producer Willa Jones observes how every blemish, wrinkle, or shade represents another dimension of a life lived. As you wander about your day, wonder, too, about the strength they carry.
Edited & Curated Francis Poon / Illustrations Willa Jones
Brazil
East London,
United Kingdom
Colorado, USA
Unknown
New York City, USA
PERSONAL STORY:
FROM MOTHER TO SON
CONVERSATION WITH NAIEMA DIN:
I’M JUST A DORK
RECOMMENDATION INTERLUDE:
QUEENS IN THE WILD
SHORT STORY:
HUNG JURY
BY TORI METCALF
LAST LOOK:
FACES
ILLUSTRATIONS BY WILLA JONES
MASTHEAD
Consulting Editor Hanqing Chen
Copy Editing Samantha Held
Contributing Writer Najya Williams
Nº1
FROM MOTHER
TO SON
At 41, Macy was building a solid life in Hong Kong — a husband, friends, a successful and stable career as an executive assistant. Then, she decided to move.
For the first time, she tells her son about this pivotal time.
AS TOLD FROM MOTHER TO SON:
I found out I was going to be a mother at 29. I was so excited. I have new life in my life. . . for the rest of my life.
When I was at the surgery room, I was lying down. The nurse put a heavy thing, like a rock on my stomach. It is the first touch of my baby.
When I first saw you, you were cute and loving and always smiling. I knew I have the responsibility to take care of you, full support with love and care, no matter what kind of situation.
One night [after going home from the hospital], you had a skin infection — your body was all red and purple. I was so worried. I cried because I felt like I didn’t know how to take care of you. There’s still a long way to go in your life. Am I going to be a good mom? It's just a lot of doubt. I just want you to have joy and to be healthy.
CONTINUE READING
Nº2
I’M JUST A DORK
Naiema Din has been the glue at the center of her Bay Area household, especially lately.
The 36-year-old is mother to two boys of Pakistani-Palestinian descent, ages 13 and 7.
As the war in Gaza wages on, she is making space for difficult emotions, which were further heightened as her husband, ER doctor Mohammad, served a five-week medical mission in Gaza. (Follow Dr. Subeh’s journey here.)
In a far-ranging conversation with WONDERING Editorial Director & Curator Francis Poon, Naiema spoke about supporting her family during this time, holding on to her faith and joy (improv!), and how she leads now, one step at a time.
THURSDAY MARCH 14, 2024 / 11AM PST
FRANCIS POON: What have these last few weeks been like?
NAIEMA DIN: They went by fast for me.
My older one was thinking about his dad constantly — before he went to sleep, when he woke up. Is he okay? Is he safe? But he was also overwhelmingly proud of him, and happy that he can go and help.
My younger one at one point told me, “I don’t like when people talk about war, because I think about Baba and Palestine, and I worry that something could happen.”
FP: How do you respond? This is not a normal thing for a 7-year-old to go through.
ND: I just gave him a hug. “I know, Habibi. Inshallah,” which means God willing, “he’ll come back.”
You make room for the sadness, and you make room for the worry. And then I’m like, “Do you want me to talk to the person who is talking about war too much at your school?” And I did. I messaged the parent.
FP: Can you tell me about the moment when Mohammad told you he wanted to go to Gaza?
ND: I was reading an article about a medical aid ship [going to Gaza]. I forwarded it to Mohammad — “Hey, how do you get on one?” He said, “I’m already looking into how to get there.” That was it.
Three weeks before [he left], I was like, give me all your passwords. You’re really planning for the worst, but because our belief was so strong, and it continues to be so strong that these people need help, we were just like... how do we make it happen?
There is this element in my religion [Islam] — if you do die in this cause, you die a martyr and we’ll see you in heaven. That’s what I believe. That’s what my kids believe.
NAIEMA DIN: They went by fast for me.
My older one was thinking about his dad constantly — before he went to sleep, when he woke up. Is he okay? Is he safe? But he was also overwhelmingly proud of him, and happy that he can go and help.
My younger one at one point told me, “I don’t like when people talk about war, because I think about Baba and Palestine, and I worry that something could happen.”
FP: How do you respond? This is not a normal thing for a 7-year-old to go through.
ND: I just gave him a hug. “I know, Habibi. Inshallah,” which means God willing, “he’ll come back.”
You make room for the sadness, and you make room for the worry. And then I’m like, “Do you want me to talk to the person who is talking about war too much at your school?” And I did. I messaged the parent.
FP: Can you tell me about the moment when Mohammad told you he wanted to go to Gaza?
ND: I was reading an article about a medical aid ship [going to Gaza]. I forwarded it to Mohammad — “Hey, how do you get on one?” He said, “I’m already looking into how to get there.” That was it.
Three weeks before [he left], I was like, give me all your passwords. You’re really planning for the worst, but because our belief was so strong, and it continues to be so strong that these people need help, we were just like... how do we make it happen?
There is this element in my religion [Islam] — if you do die in this cause, you die a martyr and we’ll see you in heaven. That’s what I believe. That’s what my kids believe.
FP: Wow! So you actually made peace with the possibility of losing Mohammad?
ND: I never put it in those words but yeah, that is something that me and the boys had to do. What a hard thing to even tell a 13-year-old, “Something could happen to Baba, but God will protect him. We would see him. It’s not the end.”
We’re not living in this world just for ourselves. We have purpose. Mohammad in Gaza and treating patients, that’s in service of God.
But yeah, something could happen to him. It was something I’ve really sat with. But even then, I didn’t let myself think too much. If that happens, I have a belief that I’m capable of dealing with it, when it happens. And then, lo and behold, it’s been five weeks. I did it. We held down the fort.
When he comes back, hopefully tomorrow, I’m just so happy to have him back. The kids are counting down the hours. And then I’m still thinking... in a few months, we gotta go back to Gaza. They still need us.
FP: You’re both thinking that already?
ND: He mentioned it but he’s not thinking too much about it. Right now he’s ready to come home and reset. I have a feeling that the devastation is so grand, the need is so high... how do we continue living here in our comfort and not want to do more?
FP: Was there ever a point during these last five weeks where your belief or faith wavered?
ND: When the “Flour Massacre” happened at the end of February, which is when Israeli forces opened fire on people desperately seeking aid, that was a rough day for me.
My faith didn’t waver. But it was this feeling of exhaustion that came over. I couldn’t even get up and do work. I would just make sure the kids had what they needed.
ND: I never put it in those words but yeah, that is something that me and the boys had to do. What a hard thing to even tell a 13-year-old, “Something could happen to Baba, but God will protect him. We would see him. It’s not the end.”
We’re not living in this world just for ourselves. We have purpose. Mohammad in Gaza and treating patients, that’s in service of God.
But yeah, something could happen to him. It was something I’ve really sat with. But even then, I didn’t let myself think too much. If that happens, I have a belief that I’m capable of dealing with it, when it happens. And then, lo and behold, it’s been five weeks. I did it. We held down the fort.
When he comes back, hopefully tomorrow, I’m just so happy to have him back. The kids are counting down the hours. And then I’m still thinking... in a few months, we gotta go back to Gaza. They still need us.
FP: You’re both thinking that already?
ND: He mentioned it but he’s not thinking too much about it. Right now he’s ready to come home and reset. I have a feeling that the devastation is so grand, the need is so high... how do we continue living here in our comfort and not want to do more?
FP: Was there ever a point during these last five weeks where your belief or faith wavered?
ND: When the “Flour Massacre” happened at the end of February, which is when Israeli forces opened fire on people desperately seeking aid, that was a rough day for me.
My faith didn’t waver. But it was this feeling of exhaustion that came over. I couldn’t even get up and do work. I would just make sure the kids had what they needed.
CONTINUE READING
QUEENS IN THE WILD
More great perspectives on motherhood.
Queens
National Geographic
They’re fierce. Resilient. And female.
National Geographic recently produced a groundbreaking series offering us a rare glimpse of female figures in the animal kingdom. Filmed in their natural habitat, we see how maternal figures use their smarts to ensure the survival of their families. It’s the ultimate story of sacrifice, resilience, friendship and love. They don’t call it Mother Nature for nothing.
Behind the camera, the series is narrated by Angela Bassett — the Queen herself — and helmed by a female-led production team.
As the show tag line goes — all hail the Queens!
- FP
All
Pose
FX
From the moment I watched the pilot, I knew I had encountered a gem that not only showcased the beauty of Black trans and queer folk in NYC's ballroom scene but also spotlighted some of the most invisible versions of motherhood that exist in our society.
Mother Blanca, a woman who morphs from an soft-spoken daughter to the head of the house in her own right, provided such a tender portrayal of mothers who fight for their children no matter what, even when their inner child is still yearning to be seen and heard. She stands in a large, diverse room of other mothers and maternal figures who are fighting to survive in a hostile society that despises their very existence.
This show is great for its layered portrayal of what it means to mother, love, and nurture against all odds, and it deserves your full attention. - NW
Tiny Beautiful Things
Hulu
Adapted from writer Cheryl Strayed’s extraordinary book of advice — which she offered under the pseudonym “Sugar” — “Tiny Beautiful Things” explores the messy relationships of three generations of women.
Claire is “Sugar” navigating raising her teenage biracial daughter while juggling a divorce, unemployment, and grief over losing her mother.
Get your Kleenex — this is an emotional ride that will keep you thinking about your own mom.
You can thank Tori Metcalf for producing this show and giving us free therapy.
- FP
Unladylike2020
PBS
From the early years of feminism, women have broken barriers in fields dominated by men.
In honor of the centennial of women’s suffrage in 2020, this series highlights twenty-six trailblazers who harnessed their inner strength and redefined what it means to be a lady. Their impacts are still recognizable today.
When you watch, look out for
Willa Jones in the credits. She illustrated this issue of WONDERING and produced this series!
- FP
Nº3
HUNG JURY
AN ORIGINAL SHORT STORY BY TORI METCALF
The minute you turn thirty-three, everyone in your life is simultaneously struck by the urgent need to know if you want to be a mother. The former colleague you’re meeting for lunch. The older woman on the plane trapping you in your window seat. Family and friends with their casual (and not so casual) interventions. They can smell your fertility rotting. They worry you don’t have a plan.
Spoiler alert: you don’t.
You were raised to believe the answer would be simple. A full, body-aching “yes.” A firm, considered “no.” But you’re stuck in between. Sometimes you lie to the stranger holding you hostage in row twenty-four that your uterus was destroyed in a horrible bungee jumping accident because that is easier to explain than your ambivalence.
You keep hearing you’ll discover the answer if you “just look deep inside yourself,” so you muster up the courage to face your fears, and you do what every woman does when she is lost and on a deadline: you organize a committee.
Read More
New York-based producer-illustrator Willa Jones explains her creative process.
While I can often be indecisive, I have a clear instinct of who I want to draw — often wrinkles and folds call to me, though sometimes a distinctive scowl, or enigmatic eyes. Lately, I’ve shifted from sketching strangers to characters on screen and the artists behind them. Usually these intriguing figures — from inside subway cars to stars in shows, are strong women. I’ve realized that they’re also mostly mothers, seemingly living multiple lives in one. Whether somehow juggling a few little ones on the train, or sitting in silence, or struggling with the sacrifices they’ve made for their children, the mothers I’ve witnessed — in life and in film — seem to carry so many sides of themselves and stories, inspiring me to sketch them, even from afar.
This all started about five years ago; sketching at first on the train, and then snapping photos so I could draw at home, and not while swishing in the subway cars. (Each method — from life and from photos, brought about very interesting conversations!) I started with pen and paper, never having a plan or goal, just getting lost in the lines of a face. I then tried gouache for the first time; a thicker type of watercolor, and loved how fluid it felt. I tend to use a paintbrush like it’s a liquid pen. I pick up different colors as I move through different parts of a face, which make the ordinary a bit more surreal— all intuitively and mostly in one go.
This love for drawing portraits seeped outside subway cars to strangers seen on road trips and journeys outside the country. I wanted to capture the people who stuck with me for the stories they shared; the owner of a bed and breakfast in a coal mining town in Colorado, a couple selling textiles they made on a corner in Mexico City, a capoeira teacher in Salvador, Brazil.
When the pandemic hit, suddenly constant contact with strangers became a thing of the past. At home, as a lover and producer of TV, I devoured shows and was stunned by faces on screen, captured by artful cinematography and color. I wanted to learn more about the women who starred in and made the work I was in awe of — from writer, actor, and director Michaela Coel to director and photographer Agnès Varda. Both of their work is strikingly personal, bringing you into a character’s whole world, in both the ordinary and the dark. Varda’s quirky, vulnerable films are portraits; many of mothers, following them as they struggle and find happiness and themselves. And her love for faces comes through in them — she put it better than I could; in an interview she said, “Faces are all I see. They seem real — more real than conversations. . . Where I am, there are only words and faces.”