Learn from "the Hugging Saint" - motherhood is anything but passive

Rhiannon and Holly meet Amma, an Indian spiritual leader who uses the act of embracing people to bring women to the fore.

It’s 8am on a cold October morning when we find ourselves on the terrace outside Alexandra Palace in a thick, freezing mist. Despite the only visible monument amongst the smog being the scary, spiky phallus of the Ally Pally radio tower, we are here to experience something wholly female. We’ve been sent by the New Statesman to see Sri Mata Amritanandamayi, a woman more often known as Amma, meaning simply "mother", and sometimes referred to as "the Hugging Saint". Here at the "People’s Palace", we are two people of the thousands will witness - and receive - darshan, a process whereby she embraces those in need of comfort and reassurance. Apparently Amma has hugged over 32 million people worldwide, and, considering the furore over our last New Statesman article, we are in desperate need of a cuddle.

As we queue and then sit waiting for Amma to appear, we discuss how unusual it is for a lone woman to be worshipped and revered in the context of religious or spiritual belief. While the Virgin Mary might be seen as an exception to that rule, particularly in the case of Catholicism, it’s important to remember that she only gave birth once, and is defined by the fact that she brought forth a world-changing male. Otherwise, Christianity’s ratio of saints is weighted heavily towards men. And apart from a Sacred Feminine denomination of Hinduism, almost all of the largest religions in the world are also heavy on the gods rather than the goddesses; female spiritual figures are often passively involved in a process that leads to male activity. Amma, meanwhile, has no biological children herself, but is considered a mother to everyone, actively seeking out those in need of embracing and bringing what she considers to be "divine love" to them through the power of her own affection. If you’re looking for the cult of motherhood, than this might be it.

Although Amma is often referred to as a Hindu spiritual leader, her teachings do not actually coincide with any one set of spiritual beliefs. Rather, she uses a range of practices and prayers from various different religions. We decided not to read up too much on Amma before meeting her, lest it taint our perspective of the experience, but it’s probably fair to say that we were expecting everything to be pretty new-agey and hippyish. And while the air smelled of joss sticks and there was the odd dreadlocked die-hard crusty in tie-dyed pyjamas present, on entering the palace we were confronted with a surprisingly varied "congregation" comprising men and women of all ages and races. By 8.30am, the place was packed, and the air was filled with the delicious smell of pakora (we had seven) as we prepared to meet the Mother.

Motherhood has always been a sticky issue for feminists. A recent Netmums study claimed that women of child-bearing age are rejecting the "feminist" label in part because of a perceived lack of respect for the mothering role. This is something that Amma appears to agree with. As she throws her arms around her followers, she talks to us briefly about her interpretation of womanhood. While Amma firmly believes in gender equality (she once said "In God’s creation, men and women are equal. But over the centuries, the sad condition of women has not significantly improved. Women, who give birth to humankind, should be assured an equal role in society"), during our short interview she expresses frustration at the idea that, in gaining rights, women have lost much of the respect that should be afforded to motherhood. It is motherhood, after all, that "sustains the world". As she juggles the act of cuddling and answering our questions, she explains what she believes has gone wrong with the struggle for equality: "Love is a great healer," she says, but "without love and understanding, men and women will collide - that is what is happening today." Particularly Amma says that, in the struggle for equality, "women should be careful not to develop an inferiority complex. That can kill their spirit, their courage, and their strength."

These views may not chime with feminist orthodoxy, but that’s not to say that Amma believes women should be nothing more than baby-producing machines. Much of her foundation’s charity work, which includes founding 5,000 self-help groups made up of over 100,000 women, providing vocational education, micro-credit loans and entrepreneurial, focuses on empowering women when they might otherwise have experienced motherhood as entrapment in the home. Thanks to a grant from the UN, they have developed sophisticated technology (based upon flight simulators for pilots) to train women struggling to make ends meet in their families to be plumbers. Use of the computer programme itself has done wonders to change a cultural perception of plumbing from "dirty, male work" to a skilled vocation, some of Amma’s volunteers explain. This sort of thinking has had real effect on the ground in some of the world’s poorest regions. 

She herself has been no stranger to oppression. She first started hugging as a young girl, in a community where it was unheard of for a woman to embrace strangers, especially of the opposite sex. She is said to have suffered repeated beatings and even attempted murder at the hands of her own family before her vocation was accepted. Nowadays, she is recognised and referred to in India as a mahatma (translating literally as "great soul"), but says of her childhood that "women are expected to remain in the background... My family could not understand why I was so open and direct."

It is this openness and directness that seems manifest in the philosophy of Amma and her followers. They certainly appear testament to the notion of doing rather than saying, and the way in which they measure their success by statistical results rather than "spreading the faith" is reassuring. As we are both naturally resistant to any kind of dogmatism, whether from religious groups or political ones (including feminists), Amma’s work represents the kind of grassroots activity that we can get on board with. Making a practical difference to many women’s lives is more empowering than any amount of preaching or theory. Amma seems to practice equality in everything that she does, yet always on a foundation of the "feminine virtues" of compassion and nurturing.

It’s possible that the reason motherhood has lost its social reverence is tied up in the idea of female passivity. Yet here, in the centre of the gigantic hall, as we wait to be hugged by her, Amma seems anything but passive. She is not domineering, and yet she appears to hold an undeniable presence that demands respect. Perhaps the contrasting proactivity of the Amma phenomenon - and its resounding success amongst the world populace - speaks of a forthcoming change in perception. Everyone who’s been a mother knows that it’s certainly an active job, and that demonstrating a mother’s love is an active process (hence why, like many natural mothers, she only sleeps three hours a night). 

Before we leave, Amma embraces both of us, and we definitely depart feeling more relaxed - we’re not about to up sticks and join the movement, but we’re definitely feeling less stressed out. Suddenly, strangers shouting at us on Twitter is of little concern. It’s quite some cuddle; not life-changing, perhaps, but very pleasant. Being mother to everyone must be a difficult task - but of course, even those with fewer than seven billion in their brood are worthy of society’s deep respect. And while Amma’s cuddles are cosy, we have to say: nothing, but nothing, beats a hug from your mum.

Amma hugs a devotee. Photograph: Getty Images

Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett and Holly Baxter are co-founders and editors of online magazine, The Vagenda.

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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage