She Just Fed the Baby

Celeste Ayala, police officer in Argentina. Feeding a malnourished 6 month old baby who was without formula or a mother in sight.

The other night up too late doing breastfeeding research while nursing my sweet sleepy princess, I came across an old viral photo. A police woman in uniform holding a baby close to her chest. She was sitting in a hospital hallway, not in a rush, not even looking at the camera, just calmly nursing a crying baby that wasn’t hers. The incident took place at a hospital in the city of Berisso on August 14, which, coincidentally, is “National Day of the Female Officer” in Argentina.

Her name is Celeste Ayala, and she’s a police officer in Argentina. She was on duty at a children’s hospital when a 6 month old baby who was malnourished, dirty, and in distress was brought in with his five older siblings. The hospital staff didn’t have formula or a plan. But Celeste had something, she had milk, she was also a lactating mother of a 16 month old daughter of her own. She asked the social worker for permission, picked up that baby, and fed him. Just like that. I love this so much.

No hesitation, just instinct.

When this story broke, I couldn't stop thinking about it and not because it was shocking, but because it was familiar. That kind of gut level response, that’s the kind of thing I see every day in my community. Mamas, aunties, doulas, grandmas, showing up with open arms, full breasts, and hearts that don’t ask questions first.

The world saw a hero in uniform, but I saw something deeper.

I’m not ignoring the fact that this story got the reaction it did because it was rare to see a breastfeeding body in uniform, especially one that isn’t usually associated with softness or care. The government promoted her and her own community celebrated her. It's beautiful and well deserved. It also made me think. What if that baby had been crying in an airport? Or at the bus stop? What if the person who stepped up to feed him was a Black mom, or an undocumented parent, or someone displaced or houseless?

Would the response have been the same?

We live in a world where breastfeeding still feels like a political act. Especially if you're doing it in Black or brown skin, especially if you’re feeding someone else’s child, or feeding in public, or feeding in a place that doesn’t think you belong. But here’s what this story reminded me of, that breastmilk doesn’t care about borders, job titles or who’s watching.

Celeste Ayala didn’t wait for backup, rightfully so. She just fed the baby.

That’s what we do. In parks, at protests, in waiting rooms. We show up and we care for each other. And while the cameras might not be there, I see you. We see each other.

And maybe the next time someone says "Wow, that’s so heroic," we’ll smile and say, “Nope, that's just how we do.”