The Mother Figures We Often Forget: A Mother's Day Reflection for Allomothers
A Note Before We Begin: A Tribute to You
Before you dive into this post, I want to pause and say this from the heart:
This one’s for you.
To the woman who holds everyone together while quietly unraveling.
To the one navigating motherhood, daughterhood, partnership, and purpose—often all in the same breath.
To the one grieving what you didn’t get while still trying to give your best to everyone around you.
If you’ve ever felt out of place on Mother’s Day… this post is for you.
My practice is built for women like you—Black women in midlife who are doing the courageous work of breaking patterns, unpacking family pain, and rewriting the story you were handed.
You are navigating generational wounds while still showing up with grace, humor, and heart.
And that’s no small thing.
This post is a love letter to your resilience, your complexity, and the many ways you’ve been loved—even when it didn’t come from where you expected.
You may not have had the mother you needed.
But you are still worthy of feeling mothered.
And that’s what we’re honoring this Mother’s Day.
Let’s begin. 💖
Story Time
Meet Tasha.
She’s in her late 30s, newly navigating life as a mother herself, and doing her best to hold everything together—work, relationships, mental health, all the things.
But every year, Mother’s Day hits her in the gut.
It’s not because she doesn’t believe in honoring mothers. It’s because her relationship with her own mother has always been... complicated. Unpredictable. Sometimes painful. Sometimes nonexistent.
And on a day when the world floods her timeline with picture-perfect tributes and “my mom is my best friend” captions, Tasha feels something quietly unravel inside of her. Not sadness exactly—but something deeper. A mix of grief, longing, guilt, and emptiness.
She tries to brush it off. She buys a card, maybe sends a quick text. But mostly, she spends the day battling the unspoken questions:
Why don’t I feel what other people feel about their moms?
What does it mean that I don’t want to celebrate this day?
And will I ever feel truly mothered?
But what if—just for a moment—we helped Tasha see things differently?
What if, instead of focusing only on what she didn’t get, she started to name what she did?
The teacher who saw and encouraged her, the auntie who called every birthday without fail, the grandmother that stepped in to take care of her, the neighbor who kept her after school and all the elders in her life that call just to check in on her to make sure she’s ok… the allomothers.
The women who loved her in pieces. Who showed up in the margins. Who held space when it wasn’t their responsibility—but they made it their choice.
What if we told Tasha—and every woman like her—that she is not motherless?
That she is the product of many kinds of love.
That her story doesn’t have to follow one path to be worthy of honor.
That there is beauty in the patchwork, in the quilt of care that held her together when her biological mother couldn’t or wouldn’t.
And what if we said that this Mother’s Day…is hers too?
The Problem
Mother’s Day is beautiful for many, but brutal for others.
For those with strained, absent, or painful relationships with their mothers, this day doesn’t come with a Hallmark card—it comes with grief. Or confusion. Or anger. Or guilt about not feeling what you’re “supposed” to feel.
Maybe your mother was emotionally unavailable. Maybe she was loving one moment and cruel the next. Maybe she wasn’t there at all. Or maybe she simply didn’t have the tools to give you what you needed.
And while you may have learned how to survive, you may still feel the ache of never having that safe, dependable, nurturing space from the one person society insists should have provided it.
The problem is, when all the messages around this holiday tell us to “honor your mother,” it leaves little room for those who feel conflicted, hurt, or abandoned by that very person.
It also erases the people—the allomothers—who have stood in the gap with so much love and care, even when it wasn't their job to.
Feeling emotionally stuck in your mother-daughter relationship?
Let’s talk about how therapy can help you untangle the past, set boundaries without guilt, and reclaim your emotional peace. You don’t have to figure it out alone.
Let’s Break It Down Further
So, what exactly is an allomother?
The term comes from the field of anthropology and refers to someone who helps raise or nurture a child they didn’t give birth to. In many cultures, child-rearing has never been the sole responsibility of one biological mother. It has always been communal—grandmothers, aunties, cousins, neighbors, family friends, church mothers, all sharing the load of love and guidance.
In modern life, allomothers might be:
The teacher who saw your potential and spoke life into you
The mentor who listened without judgment
The neighbor who watched you when your mom was working
The friend’s mom who always had a plate ready for you
The older coworker who pulled you aside and gave you the wisdom you didn’t even know you needed
An elder who provides guidance, love, encouragement and care
The grandmothers who made you feel like you could FLY
cause mine ain’t play ‘bout me….LOL
and I miss them both….so very much 💞
Allomothers don’t replace the role of a mother—they redefine it. They show us that love doesn’t have to come from one person or one place to be meaningful.
And when we grow up lacking consistent maternal care, these women can be lifelines, healing threads, and sometimes, the only proof that we were lovable and worthy of tenderness.
What’s powerful about allomothers is not just what they do—it’s how they made the choice to show up without being asked…just because….you’re you…..not out of obligation…not performative…..but pure care and genuine love. Now THAT deserves the honor and recognition on this day as well.
So What Now?
If Mother’s Day brings up pain, grief, or indifference for you—know that you are not broken. Your feelings are valid.
And while we can’t change the relationship you had, have (or didn’t have) with your mother, we can expand the lens through which you view care, nurturing, and maternal love.
This year, I want to invite you to do something radical.
Shift your focus.
Instead of centering your pain, center your people.
Who stepped in for you?
Who mothered you in small, quiet, consistent ways?
Who reminded you that you mattered?
Make a list of the women who showed up in your life when you needed guidance, encouragement, or warmth. Some might be obvious. Others may be surprising.
Once you’ve made your list, consider how you can honor them—with a text, a phone call, a memory, or even just a moment of reflection.
You might also consider how you’ve been an allomother to someone else. Many women who weren’t nurtured in the way they needed end up becoming deeply nurturing to others.
That, too, is worth honoring.
Now Imagine This…
Imagine reframing Mother’s Day into something that actually feels authentic to you.
Instead of feeling excluded, you feel rooted.
Instead of scrolling past pictures with a lump in your throat, you smile at the memory of the women who chose to pour into you.
Imagine replacing the question, “Why couldn’t my mother love me the way I needed?” with the affirmation, “Look how many women did.”
You don’t have to perform gratitude or pretend this day is easy. But you can make space for the truth:
That motherhood is not only biological.
That love doesn’t always come in the package we expect. And that sometimes, healing comes through the collective arms of those who simply refused to let you fall.
Let’s Do This!
This Mother’s Day, if the traditional celebrations don’t speak to your experience, give yourself permission to do it your way.
Here are a few gentle ideas:
Write a letter or text to one of your allomothers and let her know how much she impacted you.
Journal about the ways you were loved—especially the unexpected ones.
Take a walk and reflect on your own growth, resilience, and capacity to love—especially if you had to teach it to yourself.
Do something nurturing for yourself—a meal, a rest, a boundary, a gift.
And if Mother’s Day still feels hard? That’s okay too. Sometimes the most healing thing we can do is acknowledge the ache and give it space to breathe.
Just remember: you are not motherless. You are richly mothered—by the women who stood in, stepped up, and showed love when they didn’t have to.
This day belongs to them, too.
And it belongs to you.
Sending you big hugs….and until next time……
Chrys xoxoxoxo 😘✌🏽
