I Was Obsessed With Being ‘Perfect’—And Then I Became a Mom
By Godhuli Chatterjee Gupta
There’s a term in Indian mythology for the perfect Indian woman. Bhartiya Naari. She’s flawless, dripping in tradition and morality, aesthetically beautiful in a very specific way, mild mannered, sacrificial, simply perfect. Some version of her exists in nearly every patriarchal culture.
The notion of the perfect Indian woman unfortunately hasn’t been entirely erased from our collective psyche. Instead, it has evolved into a more modernized version of perfection. In 2022, the Indian woman must not only be the perfect mother and wife, but the perfect career woman as well. Preferably in the fields of medicine, law, or technology, but if you dare stray from these socially acceptable industries, then at least in a stable career with a 401(k) with opportunities for upward mobility. Add in just the right amount of confidence without being too brash or brazen, and just the right amount of drive to be able to collect a myriad of degrees without compromising balance or family life. The ability to bear children is, of course, a must.
In 2022, the Indian woman must not only be the perfect mother and wife, but the perfect career woman as well….
The pressure to succeed within these narrowly-defined guidelines is very real in my culture. This is the narrative that has been etched into my conscience since childhood, a guiding force for my growth and development. I quietly set aside my childhood passion for creative writing for a more acceptable career in the corporate world, all while battling my intuition that this is not what I was meant to be doing with my life. Still, I climbed the corporate ladder and considered myself lucky for having the gravitas to pursue a more non-traditional career in communications than most of my South Asian peers. I did everything “right” in my personal life too–got married in my late 20s and mapped out my trajectory so that I was done bearing children by my early 30s, giving myself enough time to build a solid foundation in my career, but not too late as to risk my fertility potential.
Perfection, unlocked. Happiness? Not so much.
Until motherhood hit me like a tidal wave. With all its beauty and chaos came a deep internal questioning of purpose and perfection. I suddenly had someone to focus on other than my own ego, and permission (*thanks to my privilege, which I must acknowledge here) to slow down and take a deliberate pause. To turn inwards, evaluate my life, and steer it towards a direction of autonomy and authenticity.
I could sense the deep underlying shame in myself and my loved ones when struggling to answer the question “what do you do for work?”
After my daughter was born, I knew almost immediately that I needed to step away from the corporate world to lean into motherhood. But I was terrified of the social and cultural stigma associated with a career pause. Terrified of straying from the path of perfection so carefully laid out since my childhood. In a culture that is so intrinsically rooted in image, reputation and status, I could sense the deep underlying shame in myself and my loved ones when struggling to answer the question “what do you do for work?”
I felt guilty for letting down the women in my family and community, who did not have the same access to privilege, resources, and education that I did. My mother’s generation of immigrant women didn’t have the same choices when it came to their careers. How could I just walk away from it all, when my own mother’s hands were tied when it came to career autonomy? It felt irresponsible and selfish, and a destruction of the image I had spent so long carefully cultivating in an effort to impress everyone but myself.
Writing a new narrative
The answer, I quickly realized, lay in how I want to raise my own daughter. Would I want her to feel burdened by society’s expectations of embodying Bhartiya Naari? Of course not. I wanted to empower her to make her own decisions, stemming from a deep sense of self confidence. So why was I continuing to chase these arbitrary models of success ascribed by society that weren’t in line with my true purpose? It was time to create a new narrative for myself. One that could liberate us both from the burdens of previous generations, and from the shackles of perfection.
Instead of pursuing perfection, what if we allowed ourselves to take courageous risks and make the mistakes we need to make in order to continuously grow and evolve?
Instead of pursuing perfection, what if we allowed ourselves to feel, process, and express a full range of emotions in order to better connect with our true selves?
Instead of pursuing perfection, what if we allowed ourselves to set boundaries with those we love in order to set up our own paths to success and self-fulfillment?
Instead of pursuing perfection, what if we allowed breaks and pauses for ourselves, and embraced moments of stillness and play to unlock true creativity?
This was my new narrative. And a beautiful thing happened once I started letting go of image, perfection, and the societal burdens of what I should be doing.
[Motherhood] offered the stillness and clarity I needed to truly find myself again and rediscover my true purpose.
I started writing again.
I wrote personal essays and journal entries, which eventually turned into poetry I felt brave enough to share with the world. I started connecting with other like-minded writers, artists, and mothers who were also navigating this grey area in between career and motherhood and discovering new ambitions. In a beautiful, organic way, I also started to garner more respect from my family and community for finding and owning my passion. But most importantly, I truly felt that I had found my purpose again.
I realize not everyone has the privilege to take a pause, and that these decisions must be tempered pragmatically with financial, familial, and personal needs. This new ideal may look and feel a bit different for everyone, but I encourage you to question these traditional paths of success. Value and self-worth can be defined in so many ways. There is a spectrum of options, whether it is a more traditional career path, or more of a zig zag with many ebbs and flows. The possibilities are truly endless when we explore and expand on our ideals of what womanhood and motherhood should look like.
‘Motherhoood saved me’
So often, motherhood is denigrated and devalued in our society. It’s seen as the burden, the roadblock to a woman’s success and ambitions. Yet for me, and for so many women I’ve met, motherhood saved me. It offered the stillness and clarity I needed to truly find myself again and rediscover my true purpose. Motherhood stripped me raw, and forced me to reevaluate my priorities and how I spent my energy. Our time as mothers is so scarce and precious, that every second must be carefully considered and spent on what we feel is worthwhile. Redefining the narrative for traditional success to pursue my true passions was the best lesson I could have learned, and the best lesson I can teach my daughter.
I wrote the poem Ballerina in a Glass Box during this period of rediscovery, and it couldn’t better capture my experience of letting go of perfection and society’s burdens:
I grew up as a ballerina in a glass box
pristine, untouchable, unwavering
in my commitment to impress and delight,
a forever kind of performance.
My parents were so burdened by the need
to fit into a society they could never please,
prisoners to an image they had worked so hard to
cultivate, when simply b e i n g could have freed them
in so many monumental ways.
Having lived with their burdens,
my purpose is clear. Shatter the glass box,
make way for unbridled ambition,
for how could I possibly let my children be anything
but exactly who they are meant to be?
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