Feeding The Baby And The Trolls

Festival | Right | December 13, 2013

(I work at a renaissance festival every year for the past 11 years. My son is about six months old. As there is no spot designated for breastfeeding, I just find somewhere quiet and out of the way. Two patrons notice me.)

Patron #1: “Oh, my God. What are you doing!?”

Me: “Beg your pardon? Are you talking to me?”

Patron #1: “Yes, of course! That is so nasty. You should be ashamed. That is absolutely disgusting, and sinful, and child abuse.”

Me: “Oh, please. I do not want to hear it. I’m feeding my son. There is nothing wrong with it and it’s my right to do it wherever I want.”

Patron #2: “He’s right. You can’t do that here. Take that nasty s*** where it belongs. Get a f****** bottle.”

Me: “Leave me alone, please. I have a right by Kansas law to feed my son anywhere I want.”

Patron #1: “Feed him with a bottle. That’s nasty and unsanitary. You’re abusing him by making him do that. Why you feminist b****es want to do that is beyond me. You’re so gross.”

Me: “Okay. I’m not going to defend myself to you. So, just keep moving guys.”

(One of my fellow festival participants comes along.)

Participant: “Excuse me, gentlemen. Is there something I can do to help you?”

Patron #2: “Yeah. You can make her leave. No one wants to see that!”

Patron #1: “You guys shouldn’t allow that in your festival. You’re promoting child abuse.”

Participant: “She actually has every right to be here as she’s a member of the faire, as is her baby. She has to feed him, gentlemen. If it bothers you, please feel free to look away from her.”

Patron #1: “No. I want to sit on that bench right there and watch the gypsy’s dance. She needs to move.”

Me: “I’m not moving. If you want to watch the show and don’t want to sit by me, go sit somewhere else.”

(All the participants carry a walkie-talkie to contact security. This participant calls them.)

Patron #1: “That’s right. You get someone here to make her leave.”

(I move my son to burp him and switch sides. One of the patrons grabs my arm and attempts to remove me himself. I have my hands full with my son. I spot a group of yeomen (royal guards) walking by and immediately start yelling for them.)

Me: “Insuth! Insuth!”

(This is a way to alert other performers that I am NOT acting, and that I am in actual danger. The yeomen run over and one of them draws his sword, which is very real.)

Yeoman: “I’d suggest you let the lady go. It appears she does not wish to accompany you.”

Patron #2: “This little b**** needs to get the f*** out and we’re going to help show her the way.”

(The other three yeomen draw their swords as well.)

Yeoman: “I’m really thinking that is not going to happen. As it is, you gentlemen will be the ones leaving the grounds.”

Patron #1: *sarcastically* “Oh, yeah. You and your fake weapons are gonna make us, right?”

(One of the yeomen steps up to the tree that is next to him and takes a swing at it. The sword embeds several inches before he pulls it back out to show it is very real and sharp.)

Yeoman: “Is that demonstration enough for you, sir? Would you like another?”

(Finally, security arrives and holds the patrons until two state troopers come and arrest them. The yeoman who helped me was given a pin of achievement, as he had not broken character during the entire ordeal. I made them muffins every morning for the rest of the festival and have done so every year since.)

This story is part of our Breastfeeding roundup!