"Hipster."
It’s a dirty word. Especially when used to describe a parent. In fact, to some, the word “hipster” is synonymous with the word “douche bag.”
Originally, the term was coined in the 1940s, and used to refer to the
jazz music subculture and those who identified with it. In the 1950s,
its definition grew to include the Beat generation. In the 1960’s,
“hipster” morphed into “hippie” and all that that encompassed. And in
the 1990s, it morphed back to “hipster”, and was used to describe those
whose interests were devoted to vintage fashion, and independent music
and film.
Lately, “hipster” is being used in conjunction with “parent” - frequently. It’s
being used to ridicule and dismiss those of us who have the gall to
think that we have the right to maintain our disinterest in pop
culture, and engage our sense of humor and independence, while raising
our children.
And we are supposed to be offended by this.
Babble and Strollerderby, and those of us who are proud to be a part of it, have
been garnering our fair share of (negative) press lately, for being a
hipster parenting hangout. For being a place where parents can come to
read about, and discuss topics that, before our generation, were
considered taboo: sex after babies, how hard marriage and parenting
really are, how kids can wreak havoc on your life, and how to maintain
a happy self while being at the beck and call of a tiny person with
huge needs. We’ve come under fire for passing our love of indie rock
and art films down to our kids. We’ve been dissed for dressing our
kids in black, and ourselves in Converse. We’ve been slammed for being
foul-mouthed “grups”.
Again – this is supposed to offend us.
Throughout its existence in our common lexicon, the word “hipster”
has been used in reference to the forward thinking, non-mainstream,
counterculture of society: those whose beliefs are less traditional,
and more enlightened; those who are less inclined to let popular
culture dictate who, and what, they are supposed to be; those who
refuse to succumb to a life that is thoughtless and thoroughly average. Its meaning, and usage, is no different today. It’s still a
word that is supposed to be an insult - used with disdain and contempt
by those who think that what is good enough for them, should be good
enough for all of us - but is actually, quite the opposite. The original hipsters, those who brought the American counterculture into the mainstream, were people like Miles Davis, Andy Warhol, Martin Luther King, Jr., Angela Davis, Gloria Steinem and The Beatles.
Our heroes.
Our supposed counterparts - those “traditionalists” who believe that
becoming a parent (especially a mother) means putting the kids’ needs
before our own at any cost, and submitting to a life of self-sacrifice
and media-sanctioned consumerism – seem to think that those of us who
were called “freaks” for going to punk shows and tattoo parlors in our
early years, will somehow take it to heart when they call us “grups," “douche bags” and "hipsters" now. They believe that by defining us as the
opposite of them, they have proved their success.
What they
don’t understand is that the more they try to exclude us – and our
rock-concert-going, funky-baby-naming, “ironic” t-shirt-wearing ways –
the more we thrive. The more they isolate and insult us, and our
sensibilities, or preferences, or whatever you want to call
them, the more secure in them we become. They didn't like us then, and
they don't like us now, and honestly? We don't give a shit. Because "different" does not mean "bad", and labels do not make a person. We know that. Why don't they?
I have a blog, kids and a sense of self that goes beyond my status as a
wife and mother, so, by its current connotation, that makes me a
hipster parent. I choose to take that as a compliment. Because those
of us who don’t conform to what previous generations deemed acceptable,
normal and “right,” are the ones paving the way for the next generation
to be able to stand up and say “no – I’m going to
walk my own path.” That generation is our children – my
children. Equipping them with the confidence and self-awareness that
they'll need to stand up to those who say that they way they choose to
live their lives - as teens, young adults and, eventually, parents - is
wrong, is what I'm trying to do.
So you can insult me
all you want - call me names, stereotype me, place value judgments on
me, my life, and my kids. But I'll always be a proud "hipster." Does that offend you?
Good.
