Ever since Pope Francis told mothers in the Sistine Chapel to go ahead and breastfeed their children if they needed to, there have been a lot of blogs and stories praising the pontiff, mothers sharing their experiences and lots more interesting stories of all kinds. It got me thinking back to this really funny experience I had, and so no better to time to share it, than at the peak of all this breast feeding chatter.
Spoiler alert: The story is not directly related to the issue of breast feeding in public, it is more about stereotyping, but nevertheless read on, and you will see the connection.
This happened when my third daughter was a few months old. We were living in Rome at that time and would attend Mass at the Irish College most Sundays. The Mass was in English, the priests and seminarians warm and welcoming and they had a lovely catechism program for kids after Mass.
So one Sunday, we finished Mass and the older girls went off for Catechism. It was a lovely day, the sun shone down in all it's glory and I sat with the baby outside, by a fountain in the gardens of the Irish college enjoying the winter sun.
That day, there was a big group of Irish tourists that had attended the service and many from the group milled about also enjoying the sun and the garden.The baby began to get fidgety and I knew she was hungry. Now I must say, I have never really been apprehensive about breast feeding in public. We are the kind of family that just picks up our kids and goes everywhere and does everything. We never really put anything on hold just because someone is hungry or cranky or its time for bed:) And so when my kids were babies, I had no qualms about feeding them wherever I was, whenever they were hungry.
And so that's just what I did. There, sitting by the fountain, I began to breastfeed my baby. After a while, I saw this old lady from the group of Irish tourists approach me. I didn't think too much of it, I just thought that perhaps she wants to take a look at the fountain, or maybe she wants to rest her weary legs and sit down beside me. So I was absolutely dumbfounded when she came up and offered me a one euro coin. Instinctively I took it, not knowing or understanding exactly why she was giving this to me. Dumbstruck, frozen, flabbergasted and speechless, I watched her turn and walk away.
And then it dawned on me. She though I was a vagrant. My long dark hair, complexion and the fact that I had a shawl wrapped around the baby and me, had her assume I was one of those gypsy mother's, with her little baby, who you see hanging around places of public interest, asking gullible tourists for money. For a minute I was livid and wanted to shout out to her to come back and take her coin back, but then the humor of it all hit me and I began to laugh. I watched her climb into her tourist bus and when she looked out of the window, I even gave her a tiny wave. She must have thought, "That cheeky gypsy, not even a thank you."
Even though I laughed, to be honest I was offended. I would have loved to go up to her and in my poshest accent tell her that not every lady holding a baby wrapped in a shawl, is a gypsy. I would have loved to go up to her, hand her back her coin and say," Go get yourself a cornetto." But I let her go. I let her think she did her good deed for the day and gave a starving gypsy a euro towards the evening meal.
Perhaps she too went home and told this story to her friends back home. They probably listened and collectively made disgruntled noises about the gypsy menace in Italy and how ungrateful they are etc etc etc. Or perhaps she thought about it and realized she made a mistake, and it haunted her for the rest of her life:)
Anyways I treated myself to a gelato with her one euro and saved the experience away under 'colorful life experiences'. And while my husband and friends teased me for months afterwards, I now had a story to tell my grandchildren about a little old Irish lady and a shiny coin.
And coming back to Papa Francesco, I not only salute him for advocating breast feeding, but more importantly I admire him for out right implying that babies and children, distractions and all are always welcome in Church. Every parent that has received frowns, glares and stares of disapproval when their children talk or cry or whinge in Church, can now even more confidently, just smile and ignore the displeased eyes boring into them. Papa, you rock!
Spoiler alert: The story is not directly related to the issue of breast feeding in public, it is more about stereotyping, but nevertheless read on, and you will see the connection.
This happened when my third daughter was a few months old. We were living in Rome at that time and would attend Mass at the Irish College most Sundays. The Mass was in English, the priests and seminarians warm and welcoming and they had a lovely catechism program for kids after Mass.
So one Sunday, we finished Mass and the older girls went off for Catechism. It was a lovely day, the sun shone down in all it's glory and I sat with the baby outside, by a fountain in the gardens of the Irish college enjoying the winter sun.
That day, there was a big group of Irish tourists that had attended the service and many from the group milled about also enjoying the sun and the garden.The baby began to get fidgety and I knew she was hungry. Now I must say, I have never really been apprehensive about breast feeding in public. We are the kind of family that just picks up our kids and goes everywhere and does everything. We never really put anything on hold just because someone is hungry or cranky or its time for bed:) And so when my kids were babies, I had no qualms about feeding them wherever I was, whenever they were hungry.
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| Neeira and me |
And then it dawned on me. She though I was a vagrant. My long dark hair, complexion and the fact that I had a shawl wrapped around the baby and me, had her assume I was one of those gypsy mother's, with her little baby, who you see hanging around places of public interest, asking gullible tourists for money. For a minute I was livid and wanted to shout out to her to come back and take her coin back, but then the humor of it all hit me and I began to laugh. I watched her climb into her tourist bus and when she looked out of the window, I even gave her a tiny wave. She must have thought, "That cheeky gypsy, not even a thank you."
Even though I laughed, to be honest I was offended. I would have loved to go up to her and in my poshest accent tell her that not every lady holding a baby wrapped in a shawl, is a gypsy. I would have loved to go up to her, hand her back her coin and say," Go get yourself a cornetto." But I let her go. I let her think she did her good deed for the day and gave a starving gypsy a euro towards the evening meal.
Perhaps she too went home and told this story to her friends back home. They probably listened and collectively made disgruntled noises about the gypsy menace in Italy and how ungrateful they are etc etc etc. Or perhaps she thought about it and realized she made a mistake, and it haunted her for the rest of her life:)
Anyways I treated myself to a gelato with her one euro and saved the experience away under 'colorful life experiences'. And while my husband and friends teased me for months afterwards, I now had a story to tell my grandchildren about a little old Irish lady and a shiny coin.
And coming back to Papa Francesco, I not only salute him for advocating breast feeding, but more importantly I admire him for out right implying that babies and children, distractions and all are always welcome in Church. Every parent that has received frowns, glares and stares of disapproval when their children talk or cry or whinge in Church, can now even more confidently, just smile and ignore the displeased eyes boring into them. Papa, you rock!
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