Why did you steal my feminist pirates? An open letter to Egmont publishing

Dear Egmont Publishing and Peter Harris,

Today I bought The Night Pirates pop up book for my daughter. The pop ups are clever and unique and it is a work of art. But I am so disappointed. Because the story itself has been edited and my beloved feminist pirates have all but disappeared.

It is no secret that we are huge fans of The Night Pirates in this house, but we were reading a copy from the library and I wanted Mollie to have her own copy. The pop up book has just come out and I thought it would be a lovely present for her. It really is beautiful, but has lost a level of meaning in the editing

The original text tells of ‘rough tough little girl pirates with their own pirate ship’ who steal the front of Tom’s house to use as a disguise. It goes on to say ‘But what about Tom, could he join in?’ and then…

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And that is the bit, of all the book, that all the rough, tough little girl pirates in the making really need. And that is the bit that has been edited out for the pop up version.

I understand the need to abbreviate to allow extra space for the pop ups. (And they really are special.) But why remove what is, to me, the most important message of the book? A few days ago I sent you a message on twitter to thank you for restoring my feminist faith in children’s books.

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But now I feel as though you have taken it straight back again.

So, why has it been edited out of the pop up version? I’m genuinely interested to know. Was it purely to save space without breaking the plot? Was it a nineties feminist issue, ‘let’s not be seen to be demeaning the boys.’ Or did you just not think that those few lines were important enough?

They are important to me. They are important to my daughter. Without them it’s just a pretty pop up book about a quirky pirate ship. With them it becomes something positive and affirming for all the rough, tough little girls out there and, more importantly, for all the little girls who didn’t think they were allowed to be rough and tough.

Please, bring them back!

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Love, not less

I am always saddened to hear motherhood referred to as a beautiful club that opens up previously unachievable levels of love.
It is not a contest. It is love. We shouldn’t measure it in these terms. ‘I love more than you love.’ ‘My love means more than your love.’ No. Love is personal and can’t be measured against itself.

So when Twitter started rumbling about the article in the Telegraph where Amanda Craig claims that motherhood gives you ‘a deeper understanding of human nature’, I read the article for myself. And then I got angry. There was the same old claim – ‘No matter what your experience of adult love, there is nothing as strong as the bond between a mother and a child.’ I had an emotional response to the article that was fed by my own experiences and of those of my friends. I had a bit of a rant on twitter, Stella Duffy wrote a very articulate response to the article and I congratulated her and let it go.

Except that I couldn’t. It bothered me for the rest of the day.

When my daughter was born I lost count of the number of people who exclaimed about the immense, overpowering love that I must be feeling. But I didn’t feel love. I felt broken and resentful and sad. And terribly, terribly guilty. And it was made so much worse by the huge expectation that a mother should love her child immeasurably and uncontrollably. It was also made so much better by my hugely supportive wife, and by close friends who were honest and open and admitted that they had felt the same way. It would come. It was okay.

And it did. But it was far from the uncontrollable passion held in such high regard. It was a gradual love, a learning of this new person in my life.

So, according to Craig, am I less of a mother? Less of a woman? Less able to experience human emotion? Less able to write about the human condition? Am I a bad parent because I wrote about needing my own thinking space during the summer holidays? Is my wife less able to understand human emotions because she isn’t the biological mother of our daughter? Or is she one of the chosen ones because her love for our daughter was so immediate and obvious and open?

Of course not. That’s what these horrible articles and this awful debate do. They make you feel less. And I am sick of feeling less.

I gave it some space and then read the article again. I was still angry. And confused. She seemed to be saying that as a mother you won’t be able to write properly because you won’t have the time or the energy, but if you are not a mother you won’t be able to write well enough because you won’t have a deep enough understanding of human emotion. So that leaves… men? Why must women always be categorised and challenged against their parental status? And why so often by other women?

I understand how lucky we are to have our daughter. Not that long ago two women would not have had that choice. A lot of women who want a child are not able to. We are lucky. But equally, I’m still a woman. Still a person. Still an individual. Not any more for being a mother and not any less.

Everyone writes from their experiences to some extent, but to say that you can’t write outside of them, and miss out on something essential if you don’t have children is ridiculous and really very sad. You don’t have to be a mother to experience motherhood. It’s all around us. And being a mother doesn’t have to define you or limit you. Everyone has something that gets in the way of their writing. Children, parents, work, illness. It’s called life. Virginia Wolf is set up as an example of the perfect woman writer. Childless of course. But her own mind got in the way of her writing. There is always something. Will always be something. The key is wanting it enough to find a space to make writing a part of your life. The key is knowing who you are and not allowing others to make you feel less.