WHAT MOTHERHOOD TEACHES
When your identity—both personal and professional—is defined by outdoor adventure, having a child can feel like a monumental sacrifice. One dedicated outdoorswoman speaks out on the benefits of motherhood—to the mother, and the field of adventure education.
By Erin Lotz
As female adventure educators continue to come of age, we face a question that has the potential to uproot our personal as well as our career identities: Will we have children? Sure, the same question is contemplated by women of all interests and lifestyles, but a unique-ness exists for outdoorswomen, however, because we receive physical, mental and spiritual stimulation through wilderness travel. When removed from that arena (as is inevitable when pregnant, nursing or raising young children), we must sacrifice on physical, mental, and spiritual levels.
This article is derived from a longer project exploring the premise that adventuring mothers must redefine both self and career. Research, interviews, and both creative and nonfiction writing have served to paint a picture for women who both desire a life of adventure and the outdoors but do not want to deny a biological calling to birth and raise children.
As I write I am confused as to which tense to use. The project spans months, and years. It spans being pregnant, a first-time mom, and pregnant again. Along the way, I have wanted to climb and abhorred the idea of climbing. As I read and research, I cognitively learn more about the life I only knew viscerally. I have felt energy in my muscles and felt like a bowl of pudding –not nearly as appealing. As I write about identity, mine continuously transforms. Because I am changing as I write, I will only make claims I am willing to amend. I will not say that there is one right way to be an adventure educator or to be a mother. What I will try to do is to introduce ideas and thoughts that may help, or at least entertain, other women through their journey into and through motherhood.
Change in Personal Identity
Identity change for the new mother is monumental and only exacerbated when her previous lifestyle in many ways was mutually exclusive with motherhood. Though women are equipped with the physiology to become mothers, as well as the cocktail of hormones to do the job, there is no guarantee that she will be immediately mentally or emotionally willing and able. As Naomi Wolf noted in her book Misconceptions, “A woman is not a mother just because she has had a baby, a mother is not born when a baby is born; a mother is forged, made” (p. 291). While this “forging” is happening, however, new mothers are subject to society’s expectations—both supportive and critical. Worse, we are subject to our own impressions of society’s expectations.
My best and oldest friends, who predate my outdoor life and career, find it entertaining though a bit anomalous that I have taken a 4-month-old baby backpacking or that I have left her with her father overnight within the first year. Backed by strong personal conviction that wilderness makes us whole, however, it is nearly imperative that adventuring mothers get out: with their families and on their own. With a long record of wilderness travel, Libby, a mother of three, states, “I know my limits. I feel very comfortable with what I can handle in the wilderness. I am highly experienced in taking care of inexperienced others in the woods, and I know my children are fine/safe. I have been reluctant to tell some people about our trips (or I downplay the stories), because of some of the reactions I've gotten. I'd say that eating food from McDonalds or having your kids watch all the TV that is so common in our culture is far more dangerous.”
As I spoke to Libby and other mothers in my community and beyond, it became obvious that the identity change that begins with pregnancy and continues until (hopefully) we find homeostasis years later, is a very rich topic. Comments center on identity change in several key areas: independence, physical fitness and adventure. Another adventuring mother, Kristine, connects the dots brilliantly when she speaks of finding her true and unique independent self through her intense adventures which require physical fitness. The adventures, peak fitness and independence all are stripped away from the new mother, and for years. The greatest change active mothers report is the loss of independence that once defined us. Now moms speak of the juggling of schedules with their partner, the desire to nest, and the planning and packing involved in every move, be it to the supermarket or the woods. Second is the loss of fitness, because of the inability to engage in long days of exercise. Though an entire day of exercise, hiking, climbing or bicycling may seem frivolous or even like torture to some, it is somewhat of a hallmark for outdoorspeople. The third change is in the adventure itself. Risk-taking is replaced with appreciation for our children’s growing love for nature and outdoors. While fostering this development is incredibly fulfilling, the intense adventure experience for the mother herself is often lost.
Every seven years, each and every replaceable cell in our bodies is replaced. Kristine’s eldest of three is now seven. She has been pregnant, birthing, healing, nursing and mothering small children consistently during that time. She worries that as her cells make their metamorphosis, she will lose her independence, physical fitness and adventure completely. Her own body may forget who she once was. To some degree, we all have these fears. Will others remember or care? Will we remember or care? Who will we be if we are not that strong, capable, unique woman? And will our current careers still be relevant or even possible?
Change in Career Identity
During my first eight years of teaching at a small liberal arts college with a very experiential, very field-based adventure education curriculum, I spent many seasons backpacking, climbing and mountaineering with my students. I was fit, stayed relatively current on climbing techniques, and felt sharp in risk management of groups in remote settings. My administrators complemented me on my skill set and my colleagues believed that I could offer rigorous and educational courses to students. Students regarded me as a mentor for their development as outdoor educators and wilderness leaders. Then I got pregnant.
As soon as our climbing harnesses cease to fit or we need to resize our kayaks, the pregnant adventure educator begins to question her contribution to the field. Those around us often begin to question our worth as well. Gone are the days, however, of valuing only strength and speed in instructors. I propose that we take stock of the many benefits students receive by having female leadership.
This phenomenon is not foreign to the general workforce. Women’s activist Felice Schwartz wrote more than a decade ago on the importance of supporting women in the workforce. Schwartz found that male-oriented companies were not willing to accommodate aspects of women’s lives if they clashed with the function of the company. This has become all too recognizable to me despite the fact that the adventure education field touts genderless pedagogies and aims to serve both sexes.
With a foundational history dating back only to the 1940s, the field of adventure education is young. In the U.S., it is even younger, dating to the 1960s. And the introduction of women to the field occurred only as recently as the 1970s. More and more women became instructors in the 1980s and accepted a male paradigm where strength and speed were qualities leaders needed to facilitate programs based on physical rigor and personal challenge. As curriculum developed, long term studies were undertaken, and more women entered the field of adventure education. Enter the 1990s, a time when the benefits of feminine leadership qualities began to become apparent. With risk management and a litigious culture dictating itineraries more than the previous “let the mountains speak for themselves” mentality, the interpersonal skills needed to create valuable experiences for students in less risky environs allowed women to shine in an area where they often brought natural talent.
Now that we are in the 2000s, many of the women who became instructors a decade or decades ago are choosing to start families with varying success in maintaining their jobs. As we near the 2010s, we must redefine curriculum and expectations for female instructors to create a place where those with kids maintain a valuable role.
At the 2008 Annual International AEE Conference held in Vancouver, Washington, I facilitated a topic on this very issue. Participants created an extensive list of qualities common to adventure educating women. These included: capable, flexible, accustomed to a male world, reject some traditional women’s societal norms, dedicated, high threshold for pain, and independent, among others. I would argue that when such women become mothers, they do not lose these qualities. In fact, some are strengthened. Why then, would we, pardon the pun, throw the baby out with the bathwater? When we make room in curriculum, program activities, or in field settings for mothers and, potentially, children, we open a new world to our young students. For young women considering entering the field themselves, this is invaluable role-modeling in that students may realize the possibility of fulfilling their career interests as well as their life’s plan. For the more masculine, a gentle atmosphere can provide balance to what can sometimes evolve into an aggressive environment. Clearly a mother will not be able to teach the full curriculum in a strongly field-based program. Neither, though, will every male, depending on his talents and skills.
Women today enjoy more lifestyle options than during any other generation. We can cultivate careers, be the breadwinners, adopt children from other countries, or decide not to have children at all. What is apparent in the statistics, however, is that the most common path is still one we recognize from days past: The vast majority of women decide to birth babies and will adjust their lives in many ways in order to best raise their kids. Consequently, women face change that is both a blessing as well as unsettling. The field of adventure education must respond to, and prepare for, a mother’s contribution. The era of second-wave feminism, where women adapt to male standards in order to achieve equality, is over. I urge programs and practitioners to adopt more of a third-wave feminist mentality, where women are valued for their uniqueness – which includes being mothers.
About the Author: Erin Lotz has enjoyed decades of teaching in the field of experiential and adventure education. From adjudicated youth to Montessori preschoolers, from Outward Bound expeditions to science camp, Erin has taught individuals of all ages and facilitated groups with widely varied objectives. At Prescott College, Erin spends much of the year teaching expeditionary-based courses using rock climbing, backpacking, and mountaineering to impart teaching and facilitation skills. While on campus, she teaches wilderness first aid as well as a survey course titled Origins and Directions in Adventure Education. Erin has become a resource on feminine leadership and learning styles to aspiring women in the field, as well as to men and women wishing to teach inclusively to both genders. Erin has published a chapter on empowering women in wilderness-based courses. Erin earned her M.A. in Experiential Education at Mankato State University, in 1996; and her B.A. in Leisure Studies and Recreation at California State University, Northridge, in 1991.
