Feminist Me: The Origins of Mother’s Day

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Each May, as stores drown in pink and florists work overtime, we’re reminded—loudly and repeatedly—to "honor Mom." But here’s something you probably won’t hear in a card aisle:

Mother’s Day was never meant to be about brunch reservations and gift bags.

It was born from rage. From grief. From protest.

Before There Were Carnations, There Was Chaos

Let’s rewind to 1870.

Julia Ward Howe—a suffragist, abolitionist, and all-around powerhouse—was watching the world burn. The American Civil War had just ended, and the Franco-Prussian War was blazing in Europe. Bloodshed. Dead sons. Grieving mothers.

So she wrote something bold: A Mother’s Day Proclamation, calling on women everywhere to rise up against war and violence.

“Arise, then, women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts… From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own. It says, 'Disarm, disarm!’”

She wasn’t asking for flowers. She was demanding that mothers become a political force for peace. She wanted them in the streets, not the kitchen.

Anna Jarvis: The Woman Who Invented Mother’s Day—and Then Tried to Destroy It

Fast forward a few decades to Anna Jarvis, who lobbied for an official Mother’s Day in the early 1900s—not to help greeting card companies, but to honor her own mother’s life of service.

Jarvis wanted a quiet, reflective day. She wanted handwritten letters. She wanted heartfelt action.

But capitalism had other plans.

By the 1920s, Mother’s Day was a cash cow. Florists. Candy shops. Card companies. They all jumped in.Jarvis was furious. She spent the rest of her life protesting the holiday she created—crashing luncheons, suing corporations, and even getting arrested for protesting Mother’s Day carnation sales.

“A printed card means nothing,” she said, “except that you are too lazy to write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world.”

Jarvis’s battle wasn’t just personal. It was deeply feminist—a fight to keep love from being commercialized, and motherhood from being simplified into slogans.

Motherhood as Political Resistance: Around the World

And don’t be fooled into thinking Mother’s Day history is just a Western story.

In Argentina, the Madres de Plaza de Mayo—mothers of the disappeared during the dictatorship—marched in white scarves, demanding justice. Their grief became a movement.

In Palestine, India, Uganda, Cambodia—mothers have organized, resisted, and rebuilt communities in the face of displacement, genocide, and war. These mothers weren’t just caretakers. They were activists. Revolutionaries. Truth-tellers.

How did we go from bold proclamations and political marches to scented candles and overpriced roses?

It’s not just that Mother’s Day was commercialized. It was depoliticized—turned from a cry for peace and justice into a polite, pastel performance.

Closing Thought:

The first Mother’s Day wasn’t about gift wrap, spa discounts, or tear-jerking commercials. It was about grief turned into protest, and love turned into resistance.

It was mothers using their voices—not to whisper lullabies, but to demand peace, justice, and visibility in a world that expected their silence.

And yet, here we are over a century later, still asking mothers to be everything to everyone while getting very little in return. We’re still handing them flowers instead of healthcare, cards instead of child care, and applause instead of equity.

So what if this Mother’s Day, we honored mothers by actually changing the conditions of motherhood? What if we celebrated with policy, not petals? With solidarity, not sentimentality?

Let’s stop measuring a mother’s worth by what she gives up—and start recognizing what she deserves to receive: rest, respect, rights, and recognition as a whole person, not just a role.