Welcome to the Jordan Hater Club
Dear Angry Moms:
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Jordan Burch.
But you may know me as the “IF YOU SERVE YOUR KIDS LUNCHABLES YOU ARE A TERRIBLE MOTHER ” screenshot.
While this definitely was not my finest moment, before I get to that, I’d like to ask you to take a moment of your time and get to know the person behind the unending ridicule, memes and hateful comments stemming from this post.
I moved to this little town of Pace, Florida from West Pensacola in the fourth grade and it was absolutely life shattering.
Pensacola and the small baptist church I grew up in–the one where my grandpa drove the school bus and my Grandma taught Sunday school–was the only life I had ever known.
My grandparents did everything with me and for me. I was never alone.
I had lived with them for most of my life and even at age nine, I still slept with them nightly.
Moving to a new town that my mom’s new boyfriend lived in was super scary, especially since she didn’t have the best track record with men. However, my mom was very firm that she had to get me “OUT” and “AWAY” from my current living environment. At the time, I had no idea what it was we were trying to escape from.
At my new school, kids had cheerleading uniforms and football jerseys.
They had all grown up together. Their families vacationed together. (I had never even been on a vacation).
They lived in gated neighborhoods with pools and were allowed to listen to rap music.
Their moms were nurses or teachers and their dads wore business suits.
Most of all, many of them had two dedicated, loving and involved parents.
I stuck out–and not in a good way.
Wasn’t really sure of my race.
So much so my mom let me “choose”’my nationality whilst registering because even she wasn’t sure what to “mark” me as.
No college team.
Never been a cheerleader.
Never been to a nail salon.
Didn’t own a single Bath and Body Works lotion.
I was no one. And for the ﬁrst time in my life I felt truly LOST and alone.
It was then though, seeing a new world of opportunities in a town where no one knew me, that I decided to suck it up and just become exactly who I needed to be in order to fit in.
My new neighbor Tana was kind enough to let me wear her “old” cheer uniform on Fridays like all the girls did. You can imagine how that went over…
All of the girls made fun of me as I made my way to walk the track before school started. “UHM, YOU ARE NOT A CHEERLEADER! That isn’t even this year’s uniform, it’s the old one FROM LAST YEAR!!!” I was shattered.
So my mom did what any good mom would do and signed me up for cheer.
Although she could never drop me off, or pick me up, and I was frustrated that other girls’ moms volunteered, brought snacks and chauffeured me while I listened to them plan their annual trips to Disney…she did her best to make sure I had the same shoes, socks, bows, warm up gear…the works.
It still wasn’t enough. I began to beg my mom to buy an SUV like the other moms had, because her two door Mustang she’d worked incredibly hard for wasn’t a cool vehicle for the rare occasion she was able to come and watch me cheer.
How could she haul me and all my friends to lunch afterwards, like the other moms did in their suburbans? And while I tried as hard as I could to fit in and be like the rest of them, it was the day she picked me up from aftercare in fifth grade and witnessed my desk covered in tears that she decided to have the ”big” talk with me.
She whisked me to the Ford Explorer SUV she had just purchased, started it up and then left it in park.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU JORDAN?
YOU ARE IN A GOOD SCHOOL.
YOU ARE STARTING CHEER.
WE BOUGHT YOU SOME NEW SURFER SHIRTS.
YOU HAVE PAINTED TOES AND BATH AND BODY LOTION.
WE HAVE DINNER EVERY NIGHT AS A FAMILY. YOU HAVE A HOME WITH YOUR OWN BED.
WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”
“Mom…they made a ‘Jordan Hater Club.’”
“A WHAT?” she exclaimed.
I told her again, sobbing uncontrollably.
“They turned the playhouse at the playground into a ‘Jordan Hater club’ with a sheet of paper and told me I couldn’t come in. I will never be good enough to ﬁt in here! I want to go back to grandma’s!”
What she said next was something that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
Much different than what most would probably do if presented with the same challenges in today’s society.
But I am forever grateful for it. . .
“How other people treat you has absolutely nothing to do with you.”
& although this isn’t what a ten-year-old whose entire life was just uprooted wanted to hear…it was what I needed.
She would repeat it in sixth grade, when the ﬁrst time I made the honor roll and sat down with a table of girls in the lunchroom to celebrate “ALL A’S” and every single girl immediately moved to another table as soon as I sat down, so I would have to sit alone.
Or in eighth grade when my computer lab teacher told me the boy I was dating was too good for me, and that I “really needed a pedicure.”
And again in ninth grade when a group of eleventh grade girls called and left horrible voicemails on my personal answering machine about how I was such a worthless sl*t for not saying yes to a guy who asked to take me to homecoming (One of whom now helps chair a “Mom’s Collective” in our area with her own young children).
She’d express it again as a 21-year-old with my first “real” job, when I found myself as the constant target of ridicule from an upper female manager who told me I could not have a successful career and be a great mom, “so to choose wisely.”
And she has told me COUNTLESS times since.
What I never understood all of those times she expressed this sentiment is that my mom had dealt with worse…so much worse.
You see, my mom came from nothing.
She met my biological father whilst working at Waffle House, right up the road from my grandparents. She was molested her entire childhood…something she never shared with me until I was much older in hopes it would never negatively affect me.
I found out the truth about my real dad in late elementary school.
We just learned how to search for child molesters in our neighborhoods from a local policeman who had come to the school and I decided to type in my last name just for fun…(something I wouldn’t imagine they do any longer now either).
& up until that day, my family had let him be a “good guy who just made some bad choices,” but one who still sent Christmas presents.
BUT from that day forward he was not only my biological father who maybe made a few small mistakes.
He was a repeat felon.
LEWD,LASCIVIOUS ACT CHILD UNDER 16, Statute: FL031
It changed my life.
But, life went on. I’d navigated up until age 21 the best I knew how, but once I had two children of my own, a husband, once we moved from low income apartments to our own little house in a culdesac, I decided to stop trying to fit in. To stop worrying about what everyone else had, and what they were doing and thinking. I would still NEVER be enough if I continued to view everyone else as so much better off than I was, having had such a better start than the one I was given.
I decided then, that I wanted to create an amazing family, the one I had always dreamed of.
I decided then, that I would always put them and their wellbeing first and live in my truth so they could proudly embrace theirs.
– – – – – –
This week, there is a new club, launched ON MY BEHALF known as the
“BAD MOMS CLUB” or the “MOMS WHO FEED THEIR KIDS LUNCHABLES CLUB.”
It’s spearheaded by people I went to school with, people I have worked with as clients, people who are parents to kids that my kids know, along with hundreds of complete strangers whom I’ve never met and who don’t know more to me than 2 screenshots and a comment section full of mostly well-deserved bashing of all of my shortcomings on this long road I have walked to find happiness.
When we met for coffee this morning, my mom sat me down and said “Are you ok?”
“Never better” I told her, and I meant it.
“Mom, I’m not that girl in fifth grade anymore who doesn’t know who she is, what her worth is or if she belongs in this world.”
My mom teared up, “But that is who you are to me. My tender-hearted girl who just wants to be loved.”
When I posted about Lunchables, I was doing what I usually do on social media.
What I have done for years and years.
I was sharing my opinion, ranting about life–the world right now, how hard it is to keep my husband and my kids happy and also be cute while running several empires. . . I spoke of how I loved wide trousers now and how I am looking forward to taking my daughter to NYC this year…and how getting a vaccine card to be able to get into shows just seems ludicrous.
BUT I WOULD DO IT.
I would go and get the vaccine.
((only after a CBC))
And for her.
I digressed on my instastory, as to how wild it was, that a Government who has shut down an entire economy for a virus and a vaccine, would allow a disease (heart disease) to continue to spread rapidly killing more than 50,000 people per month.
“Could you imagine” I wrote “If we treated THE NUMBER ONE KILLER IN AMERICA, LIKE WE ARE TREATING COVID?”
Like instead of “NO VACCINE, SORRY YOU CAN’T EAT HERE” saying “I am sorry, you are obese? You can’t eat here!”
Instead of the in-context post of how absurd I thought that would actually be, a single screen shot was made that convinced unknowing people that I was a fat-shamer– & someone who didn’t believe obese people should be allowed to eat in restaurants.
“And then we give lunchables to our kids every single day with enough sodium to kill them, but now here I am, a TERRIBLE mom for not being vaccinated or wearing a mask, meanwhile, they are far more likely to die of heart disease from a poor diet than they are covid.
So now… IF YOU FEED YOUR KIDS LUNCHABLES, YOU ARE A TERRIBLE MOTHER.”
– – – – – –
The basis of my post was that people are dying…but they won’t stop.
There will always be death.
The vaccine, while good willed and intentioned will absolutely save lives, BUT IT WILL NOT STOP DEATH.
Many of us will lose loved ones in the coming future, if not from COVID, then from something else.
Statistics prove this.
SO much so, that in 2020, more than 700,000 people died of heart disease. It is BY FAR the leading killer, even during a global pandemic.
More than DOUBLE that of respiratory illness deaths.
HEART DISEASE, IS ALSO MOSTLY PREVENTABLE.
But there is no vaccine and no pharmaceutical company ﬁghting to cure it.
And that got me all worked up, mid conversation. . .
Why can’t we save us all?!?!
When Jason and I were young,
we lived on less than 40K a year with two small kids, and for New Years, we gave up FOUR things: Soda. Mcdonalds. Lunchables. Hotdogs..
“I can’t do everything, but I can do something” was my motto
and so we eliminated them.
It wasn’t easy.
Or the most affordable. But it was something we both felt we could and should commit to.
& we did.
& I TRULY THOUGHT in a moment of discussion,
that by sharing the information, it may help another mom, who had no idea, like It had me.
That was my intention.
I was sharing my passion for the fact that the Government isn’t going to start posting ads anytime soon saying “DON’T BUY THESE, THEY’RE TOXIC”…even though they are.
& At the end of the day, what I wanted to come across and what came across is not the same.
I am the ﬁrst to admit that the delivery to those thousand followers was not without flaw.
If I could have a do-over, I absolutely would…so that no one would feel hurt or shameful for how they live.
I, more than anyone, know that hurt. & am horribly sorry for those who truly felt like an unworthy or less than mom for serving their children lunchables.
But it’s done and today is a new day.
I absolutely own that I said it, and am thankful to all of those who have shared their support in these times.
here is what I ALSO know:
I came home yesterday after a wild day of literally thousands upon thousands of comments directed at me personally.
Comments regarding my own weight, surgeries, my mothering skills, threats to all of my businesses, every wrong I have ever committed and so much more…
…to my anti-social media, completely-ignorant-of-the-entire-ordeal husband who had cleaned our bathroom before heading into work, to “surprise me” having no clue, the type of things I had just endured > > > Jason doesn’t do flowers, even though he knows they’re my love language>>>
& while admiring the clean bathroom, I noticed something on the back of our toilet.
He had taken the time to roll toilet paper rolls into flowers, like they do on cruises with towels.
And just like that, I was brought back to my reality.
The one that matters the very most to me.
I never thought a girl like me could live a life like this one that I have, with a family like my own family.
Coming from an abused mother, who tried so hard to get me out of dodge, only for me to resent her for it without knowing all the details.
As a young girl, never really knowing what true love was and questioning everything I thought it was.
Feeling so ashamed of the kind of life that I was born into, and thinking that someone like me could ever do more, or be more.
You would NEVER ﬁnd me intentionally inflicting that kind of hurt onto someone.
But I am human and I can only take so much of people pushing me into a corner and feeling like those same people haven’t considered what their own public jabs without recourse have done to me…
I have seen everything from discussing my miscarriages to posting comments about and photos of my own children > > > & just like most everyone, I have certain triggers that make me throw my “bigger person hat” down like a real savage and make even more comments I know I may wake up to regret.
But thanks to soul searching, my incredible husband and family, solid friendships, lots of counseling and growing up, I am here.
A real person, with real thoughts, feelings, opinions, problems, and more.
BUT THIS IS THE PLACE that I have always wanted to be.
I do have a loving husband, who accepts all of me.
Normal me. Happy me. Sad me. Quiet me.
Facebook drama me (even if the latter is his least favorite).
I have Wonderful, healthy kids who are kind to everyone they meet.
I own successful businesses that I started from the ground up and fiercely struggled with, only to build them over and over again. I have a network of people, who, even if they aren’t as loud as the others, support me and encourage me to keep going.
((( I LOVE YOU GUYS )))
My life is so, so full.
My heart is so full of joy.
& even in such uncertain times, I’d hate to think that something I said would be the reason someone else‘s isn’t.
THE ONLY REASON I share my daily life, is in hopes of inspiring someone who feels like they will never have it all.
Or encouraging someone who feels like they don’t deserve it all.
To that fifth grade girl who has no “club”, the ninth grade girl who has “no purpose” , that businesswoman who is facing her first real “failure”, the mom who can’t figure out how to be everything to everyone without sacrificing who she is…
I simply want to say to them, if I CAN.
If I can overcome all of these things in life.
So can you!
But unfortunately, when the visibility of what I choose to share on my social media platforms, that’s meant at the very minimum to inform, starts to actually disrupt the wonderful world we’ve worked so hard to create within our own family, it is very easy to choose which one I’ll let go of and it is without a doubt, a platform, that I never truly asked for in the first place.
I am going to continue, to just do me…and be me.
I am always learning.
I was made from hard times and I know that the plan for my life is far greater than teaching the world about how little nutritional value lunchables have, even if that’s been one of the biggest ones yet.
Thanks to those of you who never wavered in your support.
It truly means more to me than you will ever know.
& for those of you who didn’t know me, now you do.