I didn’t mail a card in time for it to arrive in Sydney by Mother’s Day. So I wrote this, at Feministing:
For raising me with feminism in the water so that when I encountered the word and the idea, feminism seemed so unremarkable and obvious to me that I was astonished to find that there even was a word or an idea.
For not shuddering in dismay (at least, not visibly), at my childhood obsession with princesses, fairies and chasing boys.
For not shuddering in dismay (at least, not visibly), at my other childhood attraction – to really dangerous sports.
For doing your best to raise me to love my body.
For teaching me that my body is my own and I can do what I want with it. Even though, for some reason, getting a tattoo, even a small, barely noticeable one, is a magical exception to this rule. God, Mom, you’re so uptight, I just don’t get why – oh wait, where was I?
You can read the rest here.