I have this thing, where I really don’t want to write about current affairs. Not because it’s not important, but just because I don’t think I need to.
On the weekend I wrote this fantastically ranty post about… Well it doesn’t matter. I decided to not publish it. (You will have to take my word about how wonderful it was :))
I remember, years ago, when Friends was still a new show on TV, some magazine commenting on how relieved Americans in general were, when they never covered what happened on September 11. If you have watched enough episodes, you will know that in the first 7 seasons, the twin towers feature predominantly in the between scenes shots, and after that they just weren’t there. The sky line was changed, but the Friends just rolled on. It was a comfort to a grieving nation.
I like to think of myself a little like that. If you want a social commentary on the world, you most likely won’t get it here. I’m not oblivious to it, it’s just not going to be the feature article.
And yet, here I am, wanting to weigh in on something.
The whole term ‘mummy blogger.’
There’s been a bit of hoo ha over it lately. Apparently some magazine articles and such and everyone is getting their knickers in a not. Some feel it degrades us, as it confines us to a socially acceptable, male goverened box. Others are quite proud to be associated with toilet training posts and what not.
Some don’t want to be called bloggers at all; rather a free lance writer, or whatever. They feel the term blogger, and particularly mummy blogger, does not do them justice.
All of those arguments have their valid points, but when it comes to me personally, I don’t get it.
In fact my thinking falls very plainly in the land of ‘who the hell cares?’
It doesn’t matter what you call me. Mummy blogger, blogger, writer, social media addict, avoider of household chores, or attention seeker, it really doesn’t make a difference at all to me.
Because I know who I am.
On the weekend, EdenLand’s Fresh Horses Brigade challenged everyone to proclaim who they are, and I’ve been mulling over it ever since.
The question of who we are, is such a hard one, because there is no real definitive answer. We are constantly changing and evolving, being challenged and improving ourselves. (Hopefully.) Our priorities shift, our interests expand and contract, our pants get tighter or looser. Our lives are fluid and constantly moving. If you are the same person you were ten years ago, I don’t believe that’s a good thing.
On the other hand, change is.
Having said that, the things that make us who we are, the true us, those things are constant. You can change your mind on whether or not you prefer KFC or McDonald’s, but you don’t change your mind on your stance of domestic violence.
Your values, who you are at the core, those things don’t often shift.
Now I can give you a list of who I am, but I think that most of you already know me pretty well.
I’m authentic, hopeful and a little bit crazy. It’s all there in my tag line and about me box (just not necessarily in that order.)
But who I am is deeper than that.
My belief system, is what holds me. Everything that I value is centred around that, and it is the glue that holds me firm. When I waver from those core values, cognitive dissonance makes my life completely unbearable and holds me at half throttle.
For me, it is etched into the very fabric of my being so very deeply, that I have no concerns what others label me as.
It is inconsequential.
I know who I am.
So am I mummy blogger?
I’m also a lifestyle blogger, a food blogger, a craft blogger (though not a very good one), a crazy vlogger and the list goes on.
But not one of those things even comes close to describing me, which is why I don’t care what label you use.
Because at the end of the day, I know who I am.
I am Jess.
And I’m a child of God.