A FIERCE Argument For Normalising Breastfeeding

Rarely a day goes by without a breastfeeding mother being asked to leave a restaurant or cover up in a public place.  As joyous and empowering and natural and beautiful as it is to choose to breastfeed your baby, there are people out there who still view it as taboo. Many mums find themselves hiding away in bathroom stalls and public toilet cubicles rather than brave potential embarrassment, even when it's unlikely. Maddened by the idea that women and babies are banished somewhere so grim for doing something that is so natural, British poet and author Hollie McNish put her feelings on the situation into words. The result is Embarrassed, a powerful and eye-opening spoken word piece that's a rallying cry for brave breastfeeding. The piece, the full text of which you can read below, has now been turned into a gripping short film by Independent Films. Turn up the sound. You're gonna want to hear this. "I thought it was okay, I could understand the reasons They said, “There might be a man or a nervous child seeing this small piece of flesh that they weren’t quite expecting.” So I whispered and tip-toed with nervous discretion But after six months of her life sat sitting on lids, sipping on milk, nostrils sniffing on piss Trying not to bang her head on toilet roll dispensers I wonder whether these public loo feeds offend her ‘Cause I’m getting tired of discretion and being polite As my baby’s first sips are drowned drenched in shite I spent the first feeding months of her beautiful life Feeling nervous and awkward and wanting everything right Surrounded by family ‘til I stepped out the house It took me eight weeks to get the confidence to go into town Now, the comments around me cut like a knife As I rush into toilet cubicles feeling nothing like nice Because I’m giving her milk that’s not in a bottle Which in the cocaine generation white powder would topple I see pyramids, sales pitches, across our green globe And female breasts--banned--unless they’re out just for show And the more I go out, the more I can’t stand it I walk into town, feel I’m surrounded by bandits ‘Cause in this country of billboards, covered in tits And family newsagent magazines full of it WH Smith top shelf’s out for men Why don’t you complain about them then? In this country of billboards, covered in tits And family newsagent magazines full of it W.H. Smith top shelves out for men I’m getting embarrassed in case a small flash of flesh might offend And I’m not trying to parade it I don’t want to make a show But when I’m told I’d be better just staying at home And when another friend I know is thrown off a bus And another mother told to get out of a pub Even my grandma said that maybe I was sexing it up And I’m sure the milk-makers love all this fuss All the cussing, and worry, and looks of disgust As another mother turns from nipples to powder Ashamed or embarrassed by the comments around her And as I hold her head up and pull my cartie across And she sips on that liquor made from everyone’s God I think, For God’s sake, Jesus drank it So did Siddhartha, Muhammad, and Moses And both of their fathers Ganesh, and Shiva and Brigit and Buddha And I’m sure they weren’t doing it sniffing on piss As their mothers sat embarrassed sitting on cold toilet lids In a country of billboards covered in tits In a country of low-cut tops cleavage and skin In a country of clothed bags and recycling bins And as I desperately try to take all of this in I hold her head up, I can’t get my head round the anger Towards us and not to the sound of lorries Off-loading formula milk Into countries dripping in filth In towns where breasts are oases of life Now dried up in two-for-one offers enticed by labels, and gold standard rights Claiming that breast milk is healthier, powdered and white Packaged marketed and branded and sold at a price That nothing is free in this money-fueled life Which is fine if you need it or prefer to use bottles Where water is clean and bacteria boiled But in towns where they drown in pollution and sewage Bottled kids die and they know that they do it In towns where pennies are savored like sweets We’re now paying for one thing that’s always been free In towns empty of hospital beds, babies die, Diarrhea-fueled, that breastmilk would end So no more will I sit on these cold toilet lids No matter how embarrassed I feel as she sips Because in this country of billboards, covered in tits I think we should try to get used to this." Did you feel comfortable breastfeeding your baby in public? Let us know on Twitter @HerFamilydotie. Embarrassed is taken from Hollie's book Nobody Told Me: a journey from pregnancy to pre-school in poetry and prose.