by Anti-Racist Parent columnist Tiffany Pridgen
Coming from a very conservative small town, breastfeeding was a topic that was never discussed outside the home and certainly not practiced in public. For context, in the same small town if you were to take your birth control prescription to the pharmacy to be refilled, the clerk would never refer to the pills by name: she’d say, in a whisper, “Your b.c. is ready to be picked up.”
You could go through life there forgetting that breasts are for baby food until you actually had a baby yourself and had to deal with the consequences of delivering it (namely engorgement). I have to admit that until about a year ago I myself found the concept of breastfeeding to be a bit backwards…and I mean “barefoot hippie” backwards. It seemed like an activity only women on the fringes of society engaged in, and I had certainly never seen any black women doing it.
It wasn’t until my pregnancy last year that I began to evaluate why I was so uptight about breastfeeding, and much to my chagrin figured out that I feared that I’d lose my “homegirl membership” if I did. I had already received one strike against me when caught listening to Johnny Cash at work one day. Seriously, though, I think a little part of me was afraid that black women would tell me I was selling out. Frankly, up until that point I didn’t give a damn about how people judged me, but when you add a multi-racial child into the mix you can’t help but to feel like you’re being called out for turning your back on “your people.” Why add insult to injury?
After a lot of third trimester deliberation and having a labor & delivery nurse basically make the decision for me (it was a “give me your breast so I can attach your kid to it” situation), I breastfeed. Exclusively. I’m not a “lactivist” and I’m not going to try to convert anyone to my way of life. I don’t argue with people about formula being just as good because, frankly, I don’t care what other people do…but maybe I should?
Research shows that black women are far off the mark in terms of how many attempt to nurse, and that those who do typically don’t do it very long. Dr. Suzette Oyeku comments on this trend in the July-August 2003 issue of Public Health Reports. In her article “A Closer Look at Racial/Ethnic Disparities in Breastfeeding” she details the following statistics:
“In 2001, 69.5% of women in the U.S. breastfed and 46.3% of women exclusively breastfed their infants in the early postpartum period. In the same year, only 32% of mothers were still breastfeeding and 17.2% were exclusively breastfeeding at 6 months postpartum. In 2001, only 52.9% African American women breastfed their infants in the early postpartum period, compared with 73% of Hispanic mothers and 72% of white mothers. The proportion of African American mothers continuing to nurse 6 months after birth was only 22%, compared with 33% of Hispanic mothers and 34% of white mothers. These rates underscore a significant racial/ethnic disparity in breastfeeding rates.”
Oyeku discusses that of all the factors influencing a woman’s decision to breastfeed, the two most critical sources of information are from healthcare providers and social supports (friends and family). Black women signing up for WIC during the time preceding her study were more likely to be advised to bottle-feed than their white counterparts because they were more likely to return to work sooner than non-black women and wouldn’t be working in situations suitable for pumping.
You know, I did a lot of bitching and moaning to my mom’s group when I was pregnant about how I wouldn’t be able to nurse if I returned to work and was told that my logic was full of holes: one mom in the group had been a full-time employee of a huge home improvement store and went out to pump on the loading dock (shielded by a plastic curtain) during breaks. She was fully committed to following through on the choice she made for her child and found a way to do it. It’s not impossible. Breastfeeding isn’t just for stay-at-home moms and the educated upper classes who work desk jobs. I feel like many black women dismiss it entirely just as I did.
Additionally, I’m sure some Southern black women who are healthy and able to nurse find it difficult to forget what breastfeeding meant for them in the past. Breastfeeding later became equated with something that poor women who couldn’t afford formula did, and now the tables are turning once more. It is now the women who can least afford to purchase formula who most often do because our society has conditioned us into believing that breastfeeding is passé, and at best an alternative to formula.
I can’t recall a single advertisement or illustration representing a black mother and child nursing when I was pregnant, but then again I suppose the magazines and websites I read aren’t trying particularly hard to be culturally inclusive. Whenever the media covers some breastfeeding-in-public scandal, the woman in question is usually white and possibly more than a little sensationalist (read: activist). I suppose that for some young black women seeing this sort of coverage would further convince them that it, like feminism, is a white woman’s battle.
Whose responsibility is it to normalize breastfeeding for black Americans? Healthcare providers? Those public assistance caseworkers who approve WIC applicants? People like me (middle-class, college-educated, and fairly liberal)? I think that part of my job as an anti-racist parent is to occasionally stick my neck out and set an example, but would the people who need an example take me (coming from a situation of privilege) seriously?
What do you think?
Nice perspective. In Canadaland (where I’m from) there was a study that got recently published about breastfeeding. Since the gov’t has increased the allowed time for maternity/parental leave (now at 52 weeks), the number of breastfeeding mothers has gone up, especially in the categories of those that exclusively breastfeed and those that go beyond the 6mth mark. Not only do we have to ‘reverse’ past cultural pushes to formula feed but, as your article is suggesting, there may also be other barriers that fall along racial lines (which seems to be closely related to socio-economic class). It gives me something to think about. Just like with feminism, I think women are quick to separate themselves from the “advocates/hippies” but advocacy can be done through awareness and by setting an example. It may take generations to see results, but it will be worth it.
This is of personal concern because I’m due next month with boy #3. I remember when I had my first and was breastfeeding (yes, in public), some women came up to me and congratulated me. I didn’t understand what the fuss was about until I started doing a little digging. I guess that was my contribution to the cause…whether I knew it at the time or not. I went on to breastfeed for 15mths.
Thanks for this post!
Thank for writing this post. It is a subject that remains near and dear to my heart.
For the past six months since I began blogging about black breastfeeding, I have learned several things:
1) wet nursing was yes, horrible, but cannot be solely blamed for current low breastfeeding numbers among black women (a scape goat I wrongly tended to use quite readily)
2) southern black women in the early 1900s nursed their infants in large numbers even when formula was on the market and despite the fact that they worked the fields
3) black women in large part ceased breastfeeding during the great migration north because they had to work
4) black women thought it was prestigious to formula-feed and when it became affordable they began buying it in droves
5) when white women launched a counterattack against formula-feeding, black women were not a part of the discourse
So, now we are faced with this huge lopsided phenomenon, one in which black mothers currently do not breastfeed their babies in large numbers. Yet, traditionally breastfeeding was a natural practice that all black mothers did. What happened?
It is my ultimate opinion that breastfeeding has largely become an issue viewed by black women as a white woman’s privilege, just like stay-at-home motherhood and the “mommy wars”.
It certainly does not help that WIC continues to find it necessary to aid black mothers in buying formula when they themselves know breastfeeding is best. WIC’s national budget for breastfeeding education and advice is dismal when compared to the amount of money they spend on formula.
Additionally, it does not help that doctors choose not to give breastfeeding advice to black mothers, especially when studies show that when black mothers receive correct breastfeeding advice, the initiation rates increase.
As a AA mom I went through alot of the same thoughts when I had my first – I breast fed her until she was roughly seven months old – but she ended up weaning herself as my job and hours (lots of manditory OT) meant she spent more time on the bottle than on my breast. My job wasn’t very helpful about pumping and tried everything they could think of to make it difficult for me (although I am pretty sure it was more my direct supervisor than my company in general) and I pumped for an additional four months or so to supliment with her formula feedings. I think that in my experience that working african american moms simply are given a harder time about breast feeding and making more positive choices in rearing their children. Play dates and breast feeding and things of that nature aren’t encouraged and the moms don’t feel welcome in those groups, or feel alone when they are the only minority present.
As a active educated parent of an african american child I feel often lost in a void where I’m deemed uppity or acting white by buy relatives and the african american parents I run into and try to foster relationships, and then find my self completely disreguarded by white moms. I hear all the time how they “just didn’t think to call’ and invite my girl to play. We simply don’t register. And in the cases we do register we have to deal with racial issues and the giant gaping differences in parenting that show them selves occasionaly.
Being who we are – young middle class and black – has posed the largest hurdle in building a support group of moms or couples with children. And there simply isn’t a whole lot one can do about it – which is the most frustrating thing.
This is one of the issues within the black community that hurts my heart the most – how so many women are steered or chased away from breastfeeding by their own friends, family and loved ones. When I worked as a home visitor, I heard numerous litanies on why women wouldn’t breastfeed. I wish I’d been better prepared to talk with those young mothers then. Watching a woman leaking milk onto the floor while she waited for her WIC “emergency milk” would make me so furious (not at the woman, but rather at the circumstance)!
Now, as a lactation counselor and a mother, I do my best to normalize breastfeeding personally, a lot of times by just talking about it. Hell yeah, I’m a lactivist. I can get pretty radical at times. But sometimes, a light touch is best. Sometimes it just comes up in conversations with other black mothers and I assure them that I nurse my daughter because it’s easier and and the best thing for her. I do my no-bottles-to-clean-ready-anytime schpiel very casually, but intentionally. When I nurse in public, I do it discreetly, but I don’t act embarrassed or ashamed, because people will pick up on that. I try to make eye contact with people and smile at them. Mostly I just talk to my daughter, though. Sometimes I read.
Women don’t breastfeed (besides all of the socio-political reasons) because the people they consider to be experts have told them:
- It will HURT! (It may or may not hurt, but it certainly isn’t supposed to).
- It’ll make your breasts sag. (which is true to a degree, but pregnancy in and of itself makes your breasts sag, and the cost-benefit analysis ultimately supports breastfeeding).
- Your baby will be spoiled. (Don’t even get me started.)
- It’ll make your boy babies “funny.” (Again, don’t get me started).
- Men don’t want to share your breasts with a baby. (!!!)
We have to repair this ourselves. People hold and value their beliefs, and won’t just change them because Atena says it’s a good idea. We have to be examples of the world we want. As with anti-racism, we have to be visible and occasionally vocal advocates. If we come on too strong, we’ll turn people off. If we don’t come on strong enough, we’ll be ignored. If we leave it up to someone else, it’ll take that much longer.
Atena
I just came across your blog, so I don’t know if you’ve discussed it previously, but you might want to check out:
http://blackbreastfeeding.blogspot.com/
I think it’s everyone’s job to normalize breastfeeding. Mothers, fathers, healthcare and caseworkers, everyone!
I try to lead by example. I nursed my oldest for a little under two years, my middle for a little over two, and my youngest celebrated his second birthday in March and is still nursing.
In my family, breastfeeding is the norm, so it never occurred to me *not* to. I never really got grief about it besides a few jokes at a family picnic, but by that time my child was over a year old, so it didn’t phase me.
All my black mama friends have nursed their babies for at least 6 months, most for about a year (some even working and pumping, one for twins). I’ve been really pleased that some have even come to me for breastfeeding advice.
I think the high nursing rates in my group of friends is due to their level of education about breastfeeding. These are mostly well educated middle class moms that shun the “old school” ways for the most part and are fairly liberal in most of their beliefs. These women can either afford to stay home or have adequate support, be it from family, friends, daycare providers or all of the above, to pump/nurse while working, with success.
I didn’t think I would nurse my first as long as I did, it just happened, and I didn’t mind.
Though I have battled mastitis (four times), cracks, bleeding, and the like, I have managed to persevere and have wonderful nursing relationships with all of my children.
However, I’ve been a sahm since the birth of my first child and I am sure that it has contributed to my being able to nurse with success for as long as I have.
“Breastfeeding later became equated with something that poor women who couldn’t afford formula did, and now the tables are turning once more.”
I first breastfed eleven years ago, in Harlem, in public when he needed it (yes, with a blanket over my shoulder and baby), and the only goofy/aghast looks I got were from older Asian (-American?) women on the train. Other than those instances, I never heard whispers, or gleaned that anyone found me weird or out of place.
Of course, I was very open to being “all natural”. Even the mid-wife’s disposition took a turn for the better when I began to discuss pregnancy as a continuum of what women have always done and not a medical procedure, she being mid-wife/nurse practitioner in a poor, urban zipcode.
I easily see how a woman in a less-than-cush position can feel the strain and inconvenience of seeking to exclusively provide the milk for her child via pumping during breaks, but I haven’t heard women decry breastfeeding since my entry into motherhood, and I assume everyone knows that no bottles to clean (if you’re a sahm, anyway) is much easier than anything I can think of.
In this instance, if the cultural resistance to ‘what white folk are doing’ is widely blinding us to an approach that is as natural as breathing (though, giving the nod to the problems that can-though do not always- occur, I recognize there are difficulties for some), then I’d have to ask, when do we learn?
It does no good to cut off the nose just to spite the face.
I really had no idea… those statistics are horrifying.
Then again, I’m too close to the issue. My daughter has a rough start and we didn’t even get to try breastfeeding until she was 3 days old. By then, she’d been on IVs, feeding tubes, and finally a bottle as a supplement, and she never developed the patience for breastfeeding. I was pumping from day 1, but it’s so not the same. 3 months, 3 lactation consultants, and 3 pumps later, I pretty much quit because she wasn’t getting anything from me. *sigh*
I wonder if the higher number of pregnancy complications (as I’ve seen reported – I don’t have the stats) with black mothers could also skew down the breastfeeding numbers? What about premie and low-birth weight babies (where the hospital would routinely recommend supplementary formula esp. to limit the normal post-birth weight loss)? I’d love to see “n ormal delivery/no complications” percentages across ethnic groups.
I would imagine that pregnancy complications do have an impact. We tend to have more preemies and lower-birthweight babies. I had all sorts of complications myself, including HG (couldn’t eat any solids the last few months of my pregnancy), and early delivery. Plus I’d had breast reduction surgery. My supply was very low in the beginning. But I’d read up on it and knew that he herbs fenugreek and blessed thistle would boost my supply. I also had the support of a nursing pro who had nursed all six of her kids, including twins, to the age of two. I think that’s where true nursing education comes in.
Not just, ‘breast is best.’ Everybody already knows that. I think the main barrier for black women is that lack of support. Back in the day women, especially rural women nursed their children. It was simply what was done. So they had the automatic support and advice of other women. Those women knew about growth spurts and ‘frequency days,’ when it seems that the baby wants to nurse constantly. A lot of women give up during those times because they don’t think the baby is getting enough milk. In actuality the baby is stimulating the breast to get ready for its’ next growth spurt. If you’re not expecting it, it can be scary as hell. If you’ve got folk around you telling you to ‘give that baby a bottle,’ or even worse, ‘put some rice in that formula,’ a mother who is already exhausted may just give in. However, if she’s got another woman there to explain what’s going on, its all good.
To me, that’s where the real lactivism comes in. Leading by example and by providing information and support for other black mothers. More of us must become lactation counselors, either formally or informally. Its a crucial part of the equation. Many young women aren’t on the internet and don’t have access to the information that is available. If WIC’s message is ‘breast is best,’ but they’re not providing support and advice, that’s worse than useless.
We live in a culture where as women, we’re taught to distrust and fear our own bodies. We’ve medicalized even the most natural processes like childbearing and nursing to the point that they now seem scary and dangerous. The only thing that countervenes these notions is seeing, with our own eyes, women who do otherwise. That’s why being a counselor is so important.
The Numbers are even lower when you look at the ‘low birthwieght and premature delivery numbers”. I am sad to say that the racial and ethnic disparities could also do with hospital attitude toward nursing moms.
I worked at WIC for a year and a half, as a Breast feeding peer counselor, and the stories I was told from the moms delivering early were horrific. Stories of women being told that because their baby was a premie, that had no milk anyway therefore they should begin the hi-cal formula until the milk came in! (This is so wrong because most women, premature deliveries or not , have colostrum, which is even more important for premies.)
Our numbers have more to do with not being adequately prepared to deal with any adversity. I worked very hard to educate my moms, teach them how milk was produced, when it was produced so when met with less than helpful staff at the hospital, they were much better able to say, ‘well I still want to breastfeed/pump for my premature baby because it’s even more important.’ Many moms, like Lyonside, were not give adequate opportunities to establish a great flow. This is criminal.
Lactivism is important because women deserve the right to breastfeed, period. It is very typical for hospital staff to discourage African American/Hispanic moms from breastfeeding because it is deemed as a “waste of time”, since they are less likely to breastfeed exclusively. My thing is that it is not any health care worker’s decision not to provide info based on that I might not breastfeed, but their JOB is to encourage and educate on the best options for the baby. I have a friend whose baby was born with complications and her NICU nurse was less that helpful in making the breastfeeding thing work…. but SHE was committed and pumped to feed for many months ( sorry I don’t recall the exact number, I think almost 6 months), before she was finally able to breast feed at the breast. She is still breastfeeding and baby is almost 2 years old.
We really have to be strong enough to set the examples that many women so desperately need to see. Breastfeeding is not a privilege bestowed upon wealthy, upper class white women, but a right for all who are endowed with the great mammaries! I use opportunities every chance I get to educate my sisters on the benefits of breastfeeding. I will even speak to sisters who have daughters to just be open to the idea of breastfeeding for their daughters and loved ones. I tell them, “They need your support whether you agree or not”. Those who have had negative breastfeeding experiences really need to heal from their loss and support others. We can share but support and encourage.
I know first hand the uphill battle we face in evening the breastfeeding disparities. We CAN make a difference when we make it our business to do so…. while employed at WIC I was able to increase initiation rates in our community by 10% and continuation rates by 15%. I am very proud of this fact, although I wanted to do more!!! I was just one person. If we work with others we can make a bigger difference.
Our women NEED us to assure and reassure them that not only is it a good thing for them to do, but they would be supported even if they decided to combo feed. If I can encourage a mom to at least combo feed for one child, she may bf exclusively in the future.
Just curious why the photo is of a white woman nursing a white child? Is it to underscore the point of the article, or because a photo of a AA woman nursing is impossible to find?
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When I was pregnant with my first baby, the editors of the magazine I worked for presented me with a breast pump that was also a backpack. I felt so guilty accepting it knowing full well I had no intentions of returning to work after my maternity leave (office with a door I could close or not). It was very generous of them and I was extremely thankful, but I almost laughed to the point of urination (easy when eight months pregnant) at the mental image of myself riding the N train with swollen breasts and a big pump on my back!
Ironically, both of these women (my bosses) were black. They assumed that I was going to nurse…despite the fact that I never said I planned to (although I did and never thought twice about it because my mom nursed, so I always just assumed it was “what you do”). I never felt like my “homegirl” card was at risk of being yanked (maybe for other things, but not nursing). I wish a sister *would* have given me grief over nursing my three kids (two of them at once).
So in light of this I’ve honestly never seen the breast vs. bottle debate as a black/white issue. Mostly all of my black friends, both working and SAHM’s nursed as well as most of my extended family (and no, we’re not a bunch of hippies…not entirely).
There are also many white women who don’t nurse for reasons similar to some of those Jennifer outlined. On the train from upstate to NYC, I once overheard a pregnant ( and apparently affluent) white woman and her mom talking about breastfeeding and her mother was discouraging her: “It’s what people did because they were poor. There’s really no need for that these days…”
I think the key to this problem is education and I honestly believe there is hope. Maybe not for everybody, but for many. How we get there is the challenge.
Scrapsbynobody – yep pretty much.
Really, Carmen…you’ve got to be joking about the rarity of such a photo.
Additionally, while I know it does not jibe with the commonly held ideas of what we look like, and would probably engender the same knee-jerk reaction if this photo accompanied this type of article in a magazine/forum dedicated to Black women’s issues, but…who says the mom and baby are not Black?
as a committed lactivist and mom to a mixed race baby boy i have enjoyed visiting here> however i have found here in the uk more black and asian women breast feed than white women as they get the support from their extended families this level of help is not here amongst white western european women unless we fight for it_____still fighting!
I have to agree with Kim. I’m African-American, and if one took a picture of me nursing my (biracial) son, it would have looked similar to the picture above. Heck, if someone took a picture of my (African-American) mother nursing me (had she nursed me — we’re talking about the ’60′s here), it would still have looked similar, at least complexion-wise. African-Americans come in all skin tones, hair textures, etc.
That said, I nursed my son until a month before his second birthday. I did get some pressure from my female relatives (“you’re still nursing?”, etc.) But I also worked from home until about six months ago. On the days where I went to the office, I brought along an electric pump. Electric pumps are expensive, and I had a quiet place and more than a few minutes to pump. I’m sure it’s a lot harder for those women who aren’t in a “lactation-friendly” workplace.
American women period don’t see too many breastfeeding mothers. The first one I saw was a few years ago, at an African/African-American marketplace. She was the “stereotypical” dreadlocked mom, who took a break from selling crafts to feed her baby. This was before I had my son, and I remember thinking, “there’s no way I will be doing that.” But doing my research and talking to other moms helped me change my mind.
Sorry to jump to conclusions about the photo. Obviously we all come in a variety of colors… but at first glance most folks would say white baby, white mom. I know I nursed all my bio babies for as long as I could, and any photo of us would show a whiter than white baby and mom, with every blue vein traced out on breast or face. Some day, not too far in the future, I hope to provide support for all of my daughters to do what is absolutely best for their babies. My eldest daughter will make a photo much like my own. She is as white as her Mom, and her hubby is equally fair. Four younger daughters will make a different picture, with beautiful shades of brown, and anyone’s guess about what future grandbabies will look like. One thing we can agree on is that mothers giving their children what is best, always makes a beautiful picture.
I’m a little late to this discussion, but I had to put my 2¢ in. I think, like many others, that black mothers don’t breastfeed because they don’t get enough support, information, or exposure to breastfeeding. I know a lot of people think it has to do with opportunity or economics – and I don’t doubt that those things are a factor. But even in my educated, professional, black middle class world – when I had my first daughter 8 years ago my exposure to breastfeeding was very limited.
Very few of my family, friends and co-workers breastfed and those who did, were sure to do it behind closed doors – away from everyone. The closest I ever came to seeing a baby nursing was walking in to a dimly lit room and seeing my cousin with a huge blanket draped over her and her baby. And once I heard a co-worker talk about how convenient it was that the handicapped stall in the bathroom had an outlet in it, so she could go in there to pump milk. I still can’t figure out why she preferred this to simply closing her office door.
Even amongst the women I knew who breastfed, very few did it for more than a few months. Three months seemed to be the average in my family. And in social and professional circles, 6 months was the max – the appearance of teeth seemed to indicate that it was time to stop nursing and start getting serious with food.
When my daughter was born, virtually everyone in my family told me that poor milk supply ran in our family and it would be hardly worth it to try. I had very low expectations for nursing – but tried it more out of curiosity than anything. I never expected to go longer than 6 months at the very best.
I nursed my first daughter for 3 years and my second child will be 2 years old shortly and is still nursing. I have endured teasing, taunting, and deep heartfelt advice about why I should stop nursing after 6 months, and certainly after a year. With my first child, nursing beyond a year caused a huge rift in my marriage that it took some work to repair.
Finding support was virtually impossible. I knew no one who nursed beyond 6 months. I’d heard awful things about La Leche – that they were extremists – “Milk Nazis.” But I finally sought them out because I just needed to talk to someone who understood why I was continuing to nurse my daughter.
That turned out to be a disaster – though not for the reasons I thought. The only black woman in the room, I was clearly different, and slightly out of place. I grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood and so have never felt out of place being the only black person in the room – but I did at this meeting. It was clear that I wasn’t completely welcome. And then one of the children there started snatching toys from and being mean to my toddler and her mother and all the other women in the room suggested that my baby might be happier playing on her own, apart from the other children. Needless to say, I didn’t go back.
So where is a black woman who needs support and encouragement with breastfeeding supposed to get it? I first found it online. But as someone else mentioned, many black women don’t have that resource.
I try my best to be a resource to any women I know who need help or support with breastfeeding, and I think we, all of us who have breastfed or are breastfeeding, need to be responsible for helping those who need it. We need to not be too ashamed or afraid nurse our babies openly. We need to stop hiding in other rooms, or bathroom, or even behind blankets. I figure every time a girl or a young woman sees me nursing my baby it makes it more normal to her, so that one day, when she has children of her own, she will have the memories of seeing nursing happen and it won’t seem such an odd thing to try.
Some of my happiest moments have been when I’ve seen the attitudes of those around me change about nursing, knowing I played a part in it. Whether it’s a family member who went from sneaking formula to my first child to telling everyone about how good breastmilk is for babies when I had my second; or a cousin coming to me for advice about breast pumps or nipple confusion – I love seeing how, with even just a little exposure, attitudes can change.
I haven’t read every one of the aforementioned comments. So, please forgive me if anything I say is redundant. I asked my mother if breast-feeding me and my older brother was an option for her. She considered it, but, because she needed to work, she wasn’t able to. Now, this was back in the mid-1960s. So, in her case, it wasn’t a matter of race.
Additionally, I would think that a Black expectant mother today, if she desires, is able to make the choice to breastfeed or to not breastfeed, given the wide accessibility and availability of information. I don’t necessarily believe that it is a racial issue.
Exactly what is the information and support that are needed, yet not available?
This conversation baffles me.
I just love what you and a few other AA mamas are doing! I am a lactivist as well. I love to nurse in public as a way to normalize breastfeeding. I’m glad that I have run across this blog post, because I have asked the same question. I also have a blog and part of my mission is to talk about Breastfeeding.
In some communities, WIC does provide breast-pumps to moms instead of formula. But, I guess moms need to know that and ask for them! Think of the tax dollars that would be saved if WIC would pursue and encourage more mothers to pump or nurse. In addition, my Pediatrician is AA and she nursed both of her kids. I just love her to pieces. She is the best Ped. I’ve ever had and finally I have found a Dr. that is knowledgeable and supportive of my child breastfeeding. Yay!
Regarding information and support (or lack thereof): I think that African-American women who want to breastfeed need support from other African-American women in similar situations, who say that breastfeeding is “okay” and “doable”. I think that businesses need to be more supportive as far as providing places to pump (of course, there are many issues concerning mothers and the workplace, but that would be going off-topic). African-American mothers need encouragement from the community as a whole — it will be difficult, considering the sexualization of breasts in American society, and (in my opinion) the conservatism of most African-Americans. It would be great if churches and mainstream African-American organizations (such as the NAACP and sororities) encouraged breastfeeding. Even the issues surrounding the picture at the top of this posting (i.e., the lack of pictures of “easily recognized” African-American nursing mothers and babies) shows that there are few indications that, for African-American women, breastfeeding should be considered a “normal” activity.
What information needs to be available? Maybe other people can answer that question, because I’m an information junkie. I definitely read books and surfed the web concerning breastfeeding long before I had my baby. Maybe it’s not a matter of availability of information, but of accessibility.
I’m sure that there’s a lot more to be said about the information and support that’s needed but not there — but I’ll let other people say it!
I am definitely not the a person to comment on the race issue of breastfeeding, being as I am of the group with less melanin in the skin…but, I did want to say this:
As mothers of the human race, it is worth giving it a try. If it works for you and your baby…all the power to you! If it does not work for you and your baby…then aren’t you glad the bottle was invented?!
I personally had a horrible breast feeding experience and managed to do a 50/50 (formula/breast) go at it for 4.5 months, at which point, my baby decided he had had enough of the headache and would prefer a bottle…thank you!
Great artical but they could have used a black mom and baby. Oh well I guess it doesn’t matter that much.
Breast feeding is more healthy for the baby. I try and tell my friends this but they seem to not care. For some reason in the AA comunity we tend to have this perception that we know better than Doctors and pretty much any professional based on rather or not our mothers or grandmothers did or did not do something.
Ambyr: did you read through the comment thread? I wouldn’t be so quick to blame the ENTIRE AA Community, or to find doctors and other medical professionals blameless. Not when many AA mothers who work outside the home do not have pump-friendly workplaces and facilities. Not when every new mom wakes up to a “complimentary” formula packet in nursing bag in her room, and many hospitals STILL give bottles to healthy babies who are still learning how to nurse for fear that they lose a mere ounce.
I think the lack of AA women breastfeeding could be due to lack of support. I bf my daughter, who’s 11 months old, and I intended to never give her tons of formula, but I’ve been weaning her slowly for 3 months (now down to 1 or 2 breastfeeding session per day) only because my husband nagged me so badly about #1 She is gettign too old, and after all, don’t most mothers stop nursing after the baby is 3 months old? #2Those boobs are mine .#3 Formula doesn’t cost that much. (liar) #4 When my baby was 2 months old, hubby said:”Put some cereal in some formula so she can sleep longer at night” (I’m not even commenting on this one) #5 She isn’t getting enough food and is too whiny.
And he laughed/made fun of me for having a lactation consultant come to our home.
Now this is just my husband, but this is an example of what other women may go through.
I think alot of it has to do with lack of encouragement and support in the AA community. It is also related to the fact that more AA women work places/hours that make it very inconvienient to nurse or pump fotheir babies.
I have been so beaten down about nursing by my own husband that I have decided to hide my breastfeeding of the baby by only nursing when he’s at school or work. Ridiculous, I know, but he makes me feel embarrassed or something by making rude comments/staring/rolling eyes while I’m doing it.
I am reading everyone’s comments and I am so glad that we are all experiencing the same thing – and that we believe that breastfeeding is so important to our children’s health. I have been fortunate to have a supportive husband but uninformed in some ways. I think that – like us – our husbands look to their childhood for guidance when raising a family. My mom breastfeed all of us kids and my husband’s mom didn’t. Everyone still thought that formula was better for kids because it’s man made. It’s a huge challenge for us because I don’t want to make other people feel badly about choosing to feed their children formula – but I want the same respect when I choose to nurse my children. I think one way to receive this support is through federal support. I am interested in the development of policy concerning this issue. Please email me directly at: 4breastfeeding2009@live.com.
Thanks for keeping this issue alive!
April
Great blog and forum. I had two children—two entirely different breastfeeding experiences.
Child 1:
The doctor steered me into a c-section for no reason at all (bad position) I ended up have general anesthesia and not being able to breastfeed for two days. I had poor support at the hospital, and even the lactation consultant couldn’t help. I pumped for two months before I gave up. At the time, all of my friends were breastfeeding and all of the mags I read touted “breast is best” so I thought it was perfectly normal to do so. I’m middle class, college educated as are my friends, so it never occured to me not to . I felt like a failure when I couldn’t nurse. My mother in law, however, was not supportive at all. She screamed at me all the time that I thought I was white. I was accused of “trying to be white” for breastfeeding, for making my own baby food, for being a WAHM, for attending Mommy and Me, for later teaching my daughter to play piano and violin. When I bought a family membership at the museum, I was trying to be white. My father in law got embarassed because someone at his church came to our home to visit. She asked what kind of formula I used and when I told her I was breastfeeding, she said “Oh, like the white women.” At that point, my FIL insisted that we feed the baby solids. She was one month old. I refused, causing a huge rift. My relationship (mostly because of the negativity from my ex-husband’s family) ended and five years later, I remarried.
Child #2
Overwhelming encouragement of breastfeeding from doctors, nurses and the hospital. When baby was born, I breastfed the first day and never looked back. She’s 7 months and still at the breast. I do, however, find it hard to nurse in public because of the stares. I’ve been regulated to back rooms, bulky blankets and really ridiculous capes. But I still feed. And my ex-family in law still calls me “white wannabe” because I enrolled my daughter in a Montessori school and we STILL go to museums and have playdates.
I’m from Brazil, and found out this page looking for images of black moms breastfeeding their child.
I liked very much the discussion, but something caught my attention: if we are talking about normalize breastfeeding for black women, why, WHY the picture that represents the article is from a white mama and her white child?