Before the likes of Kris Jenner, there were the Lohans, Barrymores, and Culkins—families that often built and then shattered their children’s careers. Among them was Teri Collins, mother to Brooke, who epitomized the infamous “stage mom” we love to criticize. Teri thrust her daughter into the spotlight at just 12 years old by allowing her to appear nude in Louis Malle’s film Pretty Baby, and continued to steer Brooke toward a string of controversial film choices. In fact, Teri’s bold decisions even drew scrutiny in her obituary in the New York Times.
Why do we find such pleasure in disliking these mothers? Perhaps it is because, at some level, most moms are incredibly ambitious for their children, yearning for them to shine for their brilliance, beauty, or even their athletic prowess. While most moms keep their ambitions under wraps, stage mothers unapologetically showcase their children’s successes, which can make us feel better about our own parenting missteps. You may have lost your cool when little Mia used your favorite lipstick as a crayon, but at least you didn’t force her to practice her dance routine for hours on end.
In Brooke Collins’ heartfelt memoir, There Was a Little Girl, she shines a light on the loving side of her notorious stage mother. This book provides an honest and clear-eyed examination of their intertwined lives. While it’s tough to emerge a fan of Teri, I found that Brooke’s resilience is a testament to her character. The public often judged Teri, but it was her struggles with alcohol, rather than her career choices for Brooke, that caused the most pain.
Reflecting on my own relationship with my mother during a brief moment of teenage fame in the early ’80s, I can relate to the complexities of such dynamics. At 13, a family friend suggested my single mom, who often faced financial struggles, consider modeling as a way to earn some extra cash. My mother, more focused on my academic success than my appearance, was taken aback by the idea. Despite this, we ventured to Wilhelmina Modeling Agency for an appointment—my mom’s journalist instincts were drawn to the potential story. “If this doesn’t pan out, we’ll grab milkshakes and buy some books,” she assured me.
Upon arrival, two petite women in black assessed me as if I were a piece of livestock up for auction. Their interest seemed to center on my looks rather than my personality. I managed to suppress my laughter as they scrutinized my features, particularly my nose, which they described as “ethnic” and “unusual.” I often wish my mother had stood up for me in that moment, defending my aspirations of being a poet or perhaps a spy—anything but a model judged by my appearance. But she remained silent.
Instead, they arranged for more photos, which eventually landed me a feature in Seventeen magazine, resulting in me being signed by Wilhelmina. Suddenly, my life was forever altered. Most of my teenage years were spent in front of cameras, leading me to a role on a soap opera (a tale for another time). I became quieter, more focused on modeling, and less on the silly jokes that once defined me. My mother, while supportive, likely felt some guilt, though we never addressed it.
By 11th grade, when my contract on One Life to Live wasn’t renewed, I surprised my mother by asking for a break. I yearned for college and she, having encouraged my journey into this unpredictable world, allowed me to step away without any hesitation.
While many stage mothers are criticized, I believe mine did the best she could. She made wise choices, like refusing to let me take a role that involved nudity. She also dismissed the idea of a nose job, even when everyone insisted it would boost my career. Good stage mothers do exist, but they often don’t make for compelling television.
In the end, my journey with my mother, much like Brooke’s, reveals the conflicting desires of stage moms—promoting their children while trying to shield them from harm. Perhaps our disdain for them comes from recognizing that all mothers harbor these complicated emotions; stage moms just express them on a much larger stage.
For those navigating the path of parenthood, you may find some inspiration in There Was a Little Girl or in checking out resources like this one for pregnancy and home insemination. If you’re considering taking your journey into your own hands, this article offers some great insights, and for the tools you need, head over to Make a Mom for a comprehensive kit.
Summary
Brooke Collins’ memoir brings to light the complexities of her relationship with her stage mom, Teri Collins, showcasing a blend of love and ambition amidst the chaos of childhood fame. Their journey reveals the often conflicting desires of mothers who strive to elevate their children while also protecting them, reflecting a universal struggle faced by many families.