The topic of being a mother and the sacrifices that come with it is never an easy one to discuss. But it becomes even more of a political hot potato when the additional topic of being an artist is thrown in as well. In more recent years, it’s become a conundrum more philosophically analyzed and scrutinized in literature and pop culture alike. As for the former, Sheila Heti wrote an entire book (title, what else, Motherhood) about her decision not to become a mother precisely due to her fear of compromising her art. Some women truly feel/believe that one cannot exist without sacrificing the other. Lily Allen is clearly one of them—and maybe she’s not wrong. But it still seems that Allen has a bit of resentment/guilt about giving up on a key aspect (nay, the main aspect) of her artistic life: being a musician. That much was made clear during a promo interview for The Radio Times Podcast in honor of her own upcoming podcast (yes, it’s super meta) series, Miss Me?, co-hosted with lifelong friend Miquita Oliver.
It was during this amuse-bouche for Miss Me? that Allen remarked, “I never really had a strategy when it comes to career. Uh, but yes—my children ruined my career.” Oliver then looks at her in disbelief over how real she’s being as they both laugh about her decidedly British candor/sense of humor. Allen doubled down by adding “I mean I love them and they complete me [Jerry Maguire much?], but in terms of, like, pop stardom, totally ruined it. Yeah.” Oliver commends Allen’s honesty with, “That is such a good answer. I’m so happy to hear someone say that. Everyone’s like, ‘No, of course not!’” Allen quickly confirmed, “Does not mix. It really annoys me when people say you can have it all because, quite frankly, you can’t. And, you know, some people choose their career over their children and that’s their prerogative, but, you know, my parents were quite absent when I was a kid and I feel like that really left some, like, nasty scars that I’m not willing to, you know, repeat on mine. And so, I chose stepping back and concentrating on them and I’m glad that I’ve done that because I think they’re very well-rounded people.” Of course, when Allen’s children, Ethel and Marnie, grow old enough to hear about this little pull quote, it might leave its own nasty scar on them—realizing they were the direct cause of stifling their mother’s musical freedom and depriving the world of more Lily Allen records.
Then again, Allen hasn’t “full-stop” quit, with hints at her return coming as recently as this year, when she responded to a comment on Twitter (never to be referred to as X), “Please when are you making a follow-up to your best LP, No Shame?” with “I am making it now, I don’t know how long it will take, but you will be able to hear some things soon.” So clearly, Allen hasn’t “retired” from music if she can still find time to write a new album whilst “focusing on her kids.” Nor has it prevented her from other time-consuming creative endeavors like starring in a West End theater production (both 2:22 and Pillowman) or a TV show (Dreamland). Or, of course, making a podcast series with Oliver. But it would seem these things are more noncommittal than the rigors of putting out an album (Rihanna would appear to feel the same way, having taken a musical hiatus well before her post-children era and seeming to be spurred to maintain that hiatus after giving birth to two kids). Especially when a musician actually chooses to tour it. Yet Allen did do both of these things in 2014, when her daughters were three and one, respectively.
Maybe, indeed, it was going on the Sheezus Tour that gave Allen a wake-up call about the “artist’s lifestyle” not entirely mixing with motherhood (mind you, this was also the period during which she admitted to having sex with female escorts out of sheer loneliness and depression—having her second child the year before had left her with a bout of postnatal depression, to boot). Because after that, Allen wouldn’t release a record for another four years, 2018’s No Shame. This album, like Sheezus with “Take My Place” (about the stillbirth of her first child with Sam Cooper in 2010), would also explore the complexities and heartbreaks of motherhood, namely on track nine, “Three,” which speaks from the perspective of her daughters as they watch her leave for tour or various other musically-related publicity blitzkriegs. Hence, sadness-filled lyrics like, “You say you love me, then you walk right out the door.”
It was that line that perhaps provided Allen with the seed of the revelation that would come after touring No Shame in 2018-2019, coming to grips with the idea that maybe she had already missed so much of the early years and it was time to “settle down.” The timing of that epiphany seemed to coincide perfectly with meeting David Harbour in 2019, marrying him in 2020 and becoming a Carroll Gardens mom (second only to the similarly annoying Brooklyn cliche of a Park Slope mom). So it is that we haven’t seen any new music from Allen in six years. For context, her longest break between albums before that was the five-year period it took her to release Sheezus after It’s Not You, It’s Me.
And, talking of that sophomore album, her present comments about motherhood (in terms of “being there” in a way her own parents weren’t) and artistry are a sharp about-face from her last interview with Oliver in 2009, as It’s Not Me, It’s You was being released. During it, she told Oliver, “My childhood was tricky, but so is everyone’s I think. So, um, yeah. It affected me and made me the person I am today and I think I’m okay. Now.” If Allen were still to go by that, then perhaps she would keep making music and touring under the conception that absenteeism as a parent builds character. Raises children who are “tough” and imaginative.
Her one-eighty stance, alas, caused a backlash that was strong enough for Allen to retweet a defense from Charlotte Elmore saying, “Context for those going wild over a Lily Allen headline ⬇️ Let’s normalise not ✨having it all✨ and take the expectations down a notch?” But this is in direct contrast to everything the “modern woman” has been told, starting somewhere around the era of Baby Boom starring Diane Keaton. Yet, by the end of that film, viewers are ultimately left with the impression that “having it all” still requires some significant sacrifice/compromise (not to mention a boyfriend or husband). In short, a total reassessment of priorities.
Then there was someone like Madonna, who actually leveled up after having her first child, releasing an album (arguably still her best: Ray of Light) inspired by the occurrence of transmogrifying into “Mother” (beyond just the gay definition of that word). And in a recent interview with Mary Gabriel about the biography she wrote on the Queen of Pop, the author argues that part of what makes Madonna so unique, so punk rock (when she’s not appearing in bank commercials) is her continued ability to be unapologetically an artist after becoming a mother. Specifically, she told MadonnaTribe, “When Madonna became a mother, she rescued older women from the exile that motherhood often imposes upon them. In 2000 when she wore her shirt with Rocco on the front and Lola on the back, she showed what a forty-something mother looked like. Jumping around the stage at the Brixton Academy, she exploded the idea that a woman of a certain age—especially a mother of a certain age—couldn’t be gorgeous, fun, sexy, strong and enjoying a career. At a time when companies didn’t promote women with children because they feared the woman would be too distracted, Madonna showed motherhood wasn’t a distraction, it was empowering.”
Of course, here it bears noting that Madonna undeniably had plenty of hired help to aid in this process (speaking on that reality frankly with the “American Life” rap, “I got a lawyer and a manager, an agent and a chef/Three nannies, an assistant, and a driver and a jet/A trainer and a butler and a bodyguard or five/A gardener and a stylist, do you think I’m satisfied?”). Something Allen could technically afford to invoke as well, but has perhaps since thought better of it than the days when she was still releasing new music and touring circa 2014 and 2018.
Or maybe, as a Brooklynite, she found herself reading 2021’s Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder for added confirmation of her decision to “stand down,” as that book is all about the struggle for a female artist to keep working at her art after having a child, eventually turning that struggle into performance art (with the child incorporated into it). Also recently added to the culture of this mother-or-artist conundrum, Halsey’s If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power (like Nightbitch, also released in 2021) explores the territory of motherhood/womanhood when it comes to continuing to pursue art post-childbirth. Halsey appears to be conflicted on the matter as well, with lyrics like, “Go on and be a big girl/You asked for this now/You better show ’em why you talk so loud” and “I just wanna feel somethin’, tell me where to go/‘Cause everybody knows somethin’ I don’t wanna know/So I stay right here ’cause I’m better all alone/Yeah, I’m better all alone.” Described by Halsey as a concept album (Allen has, incidentally, said that’s what her next album is going to be, too) centered on the specific “horrors of pregnancy and childbirth,” it’s apparent that Allen isn’t the only female artist with some very mixed emotions on the matter of motherhood. Especially as it relates to continuing to be an artist at all.
During Allen’s formative years as a millennial, it was Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) who further corroborated the idea that women could “have it all” in the season three Sex and the City episode, “All or Nothing” (which first aired in 2000). A title that unwittingly speaks to what Allen is saying about choosing between one thing or another: artistry or motherhood (some would say artistry is the “all,” while motherhood is the “nothing”). And, lest anyone forget, Samantha was more of a perennially single, “non-mother” type than Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) herself, so maybe it was easier to make such a declaration.
And so, if Allen can confirm that, sooner or later, a choice must be made (or it will be made for you) about art or motherhood, it certainly doesn’t make the latter sound any more appealing to those women who do view their art as their true child. Besides, does any kid really want to be referred to as “Mommy’s favorite mistake” once they see in adulthood that they stymied their mum’s creative output?
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