Anna Malaika Tubbs

Every year around January 15th, the world rightfully celebrates the birth of the great Martin Luther King Jr.,

Yet virtually no one has stopped to consider who else was in that room that day in 1929.

As if, somehow, MLK Jr.

birthed himself.

If the stories we told of mothers reflected their presence, their importance, their power, their influence, their wholeness and their humanity, then it would be easier for everyone to appreciate their roles and back them with the support that they deserve.

Every year around January 15th, the world rightfully celebrates the birth of the great Martin Luther King Jr.

Yet virtually no one has stopped to consider who else was in that room that day in 1929.

As if, somehow, MLK Jr.

birthed himself.

I toured the location where he was born, a charming, quaint two-story home in Atlanta.

And while it was an honor to even be there, I left feeling frustrated by the tour guide's script.

Of course, MLK Jr.

was the center of most of the tales.

And then came stories about his father, the inspiring Reverend Martin Luther King, Sr.

But what frustrated me was the lack of attention being paid to his mother.

Alberta Christine Williams King, even though this was actually her childhood home first and the home where she later birthed her children in a room on the second floor.

This erasure doesn't only concern Alberta.

Mothers in the US are often misrepresented or completely left out in the stories we tell.

Mothers are used to being seen as selfless beings without needs for others to consider.

They're used to feeling belittled if they stay at home with their children because the narrative says it's unproductive.