I come from a long line of functional artists, domestics, and earth workers. Every family home I visited as a child had loads of quilts and handmade furniture, an iron pot, a garden, and a story. Until this day, I sit at the feet of my family “griots” to hear about the legacies and histories of my kinfolk.

I am privileged to be a Black woman in this country that knows where her people come from. But there is one history in my family that is never talked about. In fact, may even be non-existent. There is one legacy I have been determined to re-create for myself since I started a family of my own.

That is the legacy of breastfeeding.

I remember growing up and being fascinated whenever I saw a Black woman breastfeed. I say Black woman because as a child I never (never-ever) saw a white woman breastfeeding as a child. Visiting my family in Mobile, Daphne, and other parts of Alabama I knew that breastfeeding was something folk did when they had children. Something Black women did. It wasn’t until later that I found out that that had not been my mother’s experience.

As a teenager my mother was diagnosed with fibrocystic breast. From what I can remember of the stories related to me, she had her first surgery to remove cysts when she was only 13. This continued throughout her teens and by the time she was married and having her first and only child, my mother was told by her family doctor that it would behoove her not to breastfeed. When probed about it, the doctor said that due to her history of cysts in her breast, breastfeeding would most likely cause breast cancer. From what I know now, available scientific research and evidence suggests the contrary. What we indeed know is that breastfeeding reduces the risk of those aggressive forms of cancer that disproportionately affect Black women.

Twelve years after the death of my mother from breast cancer at the age of 43, as I looked at the plus sign on the pregnancy test, if knew if nothing else, I knew I would be breastfeeding my child. I knew that creating that culture, that history and legacy within my family was long overdue. We deserved a lifetime of healing from the rubbish perpetuated on my mother’s generation—on what are now many generations—to give up the breast and introduce formula. I speak to many sisters that have started that dialogue in their families and the reasons and suggestions given to them to discontinue breastfeeding are not only ridiculous but non-factual. It’s time to re-create our legacy.

My decision and commitment to breastfeed initially grew out of doing what is absolutely best for my baby. From there it moved to being a way to honor my mother, her experience, and to see the lesson in her short yet beautiful life. Finally, I continue to do it in solidarity with the other women in my family and community re-creating their own legacy as well as to engage in activism. Plus it seems like my little “milk monster” is never going to stop...ever.

The legacy of breastfeeding in our family is what I will make it and what I will encourage my daughter to make it. We come from a history and legacy of some bad-ass people; so why not add breastfeeding to those stories?

We deserve that.

Photo credit: Walter Logan