When I began doula work in 2013, it was a thing that seemed pretty obscure. My parents hadn’t heard of it, and I found myself trying to explain what providing “physical, mental and emotional support” during pregnancy even meant to most Black women I spoke with.
In 2016, when I decided to make it my full-time job, I had to learn how to build a business. And most of the people I saw doing so were white women. The local doula agencies had white folks all over their websites, ever so subtly sending the message was that this was for “us”.
Then when I started postpartum doula work? Listen. I’m pretty sure my mother wondered if I’d gone and gotten all of that fancy education at elite colleges to be someone’s maid or mammy.
I did know Black women that had used doulas. I’d been trained by Black doulas. Still, there was this stereotype that only the earth mama afrocentric types would be interested.
I’ve never believed any of this though.
Black women deserve to give birth with support. All of us. Not just a “certain kind.”
I resent the idea that we have to change who we are to give birth. While we should have access to homebirth, everyone is not willing or able to remove themselves from the hospital system. In fact, if you want to go straight to the hospital and get your epidural, you sound like lots of our doula clients here at DCMM.
As a new mother, you are not required to bedshare or hold your baby 24/7 if it is going to deplete all of your energy and well-being. Black women are allowed to have needs, and human beings weren’t designed to raise babies in isolation.
Even if all of your cleaning products are toxic, doula support should be available for you.
So doulas being feature in Essence magazine means a lot to me.
And not just because it’s a magazine that used to come to the house- my mom had a subscription.
It means that more and more doulas are being identified as for us. While it’s just a a magazine article, maybe it means we’re moving towards the sort of world that I want.
I want to live in a world where Black mothers aren’t just statistics- good OR bad.
Where we’re we’re treated like the brilliant, fully competent adults that we are and are in partnership with our doctors. I want a world where we don’t lose our identity as brilliant leaders because we put on a hospital gown.
I want Black women to be able to move beyond fearing for our lives in the delivery room, and settling for making it out of the birth and postpartum experience alive. I want joy for us.
I want to live in a world where, when we bring our babies home, we’re treated sweetly and softly. A world where we’re not seen as a burden if we need help during postpartum. Instead, we are beloved and surrounded by folks who give us care and concern.
And as a doula, I want to live in a world where little girls (and anyone else) grow up knowing that they can make a way for themselves by taking good care of others. That being a doula is good, honorable and well-compensated work.
Doula work being in Essence means that support is on the minds of Black women. So this is a victory for those of us working to raise the standard for how we’re treated.
