Words: Tess Hardy (she/her)
CW: Violence / Missing Persons
‘Mothers will always be the light of hope in times of darkness, and the helping hand in moments of need’
Mothers are everywhere. We thank them for life itself, dinners on the table and kisses on our foreheads. Through history, on the glaring television screen, we see the faces of activists, politicians, and protesters flicking through the channels. But what of the women who fed, nourished, and birthed them through blood, sweat, and toddler’s tears? Across the world, mothers have played an integral part in both ideological and systemic change, coming together in a shared state of maternal care and passion for not only their children, but the “children of the world”. These women reweave gender roles – making dinner, and demanding justice. Maternal multitasking at its very finest.
Mothers of the Movement comes from a group of mothers from America who have lost children due to racially charged gun violence and police brutality. Each honour a name of their own, much like Lucy McBath, mother of Jordan Davis. He was 17 years old when he was shot and killed by Michael Dunn in Jacksonville, Florida, in 2012 following an argument over loud music at a petrol station. At a Democratic National Convention in 2016 McBath said, ‘you don’t stop being a mom when your child dies. We’re going to keep telling our stories, and we’re urging you to say their names.’ The infinite state of motherhood beyond the death of a child is one felt by mothers across the globe for centuries. But let’s rewind…
In what was the newly colonised Australia between 1905-1977, government and church officials forcibly removed Australian Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, who were fostered or adopted by non-Indigenous families nationally and internationally. They are known as the “Stolen Generation”, and this forced familial displacement affected around 1 in 3 families. There is not a single Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander community who has not been forever changed, nor mothers whose whole worlds were not shifted.
This is not a singular story.
This same process of colonial cracking of the family unit was seen in British Columbia, Canada, known as the “Sixties Scoop”. The practice of removing Aboriginal children from their families and into the state’s care was well in motion, and by the 1960s around 20,000 First Nation, Métis, and Inuit children were removed from their homes; for every child, a mother left devastated. This colonial process was also practiced in New Zealand and America.
Almost a decade later, in Argentina, from 1974-1983, General Videla’s Dirty War saw an estimated 10,000 people “disappear” or “desaparecidos” under his military dictatorship. Hundreds of children were snatched away from their mothers by the government and were illegally adopted to military families. Sound familiar?
While the locations of these stories may have occurred worlds apart, crossing continents, the mothers affected – and their reactions – are staggeringly familiar: organising, coming together in solidarity, and interweaving themselves together demanding justice.
In 1977, out of these atrocities in Argentina emerged the group Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, who began marching every week – and continue to do so now – demanding justice for their estranged children, some of whom were eventually located due to this powerful movement. Times have changed, people in government have shifted, yet these mothers stand strong. They wear white headscarves made from the cloth nappies of their missing children, and even today there are mothers who do not know what happened to their children. They carry their lost loved ones and advocate for their return home through this symbolic fabric, representing the children – and innocence – stolen from their homes. This resilient group of women are a symbol of hope for others, and though the press and regime tried to silence them, they continue to fight for human rights everywhere. And they don’t stand alone.
In the last 2 years, a staggering 64,000 children have reportedly been killed or maimed across the Gaza Strip by the Zionist entity, including at least 1,000 babies. We don’t know how many more have died due to preventable illnesses unable to to be cared for due to the Israeli blockade of human aid, or who are buried under the rubble. Mothers knead pasta to make bread for their children, giving breast milk before they can feed themselves.
From Belfast, the group Mothers Against Genocide was formed in October 2023. Their mission is to amplify the voices of grieving Palestinian mothers and make sure the world sees the faces behind the heartbreaking experience that they have endured. The group has grown, and now a Glasgow branch has been established on the front of the direct action for Palestinian liberation. You spot them in a second, walking draped in black lace with empty prams through the city, sometimes with small black bundles in their arms. They say, ‘Mothers will always be the light of hope in times of darkness, and the helping hand in moments of need’.
While destruction was the intent of these tragic events, from the rubble these interwoven communities have emerged. Hand in hand, we have all felt the burning flame of maternal love, warming us in their embrace. From Gaza to Glasgow, Argentina to America, these women – and so many more – continue on: losing a child does not change the state of motherhood, to echo Lucy McBath. So to the Mothers of the Movements, thank you. To the mothers and grandmothers of my own movement, Nesta and Sara-Jane, you are interwoven into my life and heart in unimaginable ways.
MY MUM SAYS: ‘ALL THE POWER TO ALL THE PEOPLE, FREE PALESTINE!’
