My daughter doesn’t read these newsletters. But every time I write for Motherline, I write with her in mind. It’s impossible not to, because the work of the line is about remembering our kids in every choice we make, every action we take, down to the mundane moment of deciding whether the four pieces of fruit in a Trader Joe’s plastic clam shell are worth it.
Recently, Andrea Gibson’s passing led me to listen to the poem “To Whom It May Concern”. It made me reflect on how we pass on our ways, we women to our children. In particular, this poem had me reflecting on how my daughter inherited my reluctance to stand proudly in my power. How my constant shrugging off of myself, diminishing my work and myself, making myself smaller to fit into constructs, apologizing for my existence by always saying sorry for this and sorry for that, being a bit embarrassed about my good reputation, playing down my achievements, putting myself last had somehow gotten into her DNA. Despite how I raised her, to triumph over these pressures and expectations of women would have meant overcoming them myself- so she could see what a life standing on gender equitable ground would look like. Instead, it’s there, in her DNA, the diminishment of self, and the acceptance of disempowerment, even if it is oh so faint.
Yet here we are, she and I, standing upon centuries of generational memory; memory affirming that our bodies, our minds, our work, our own children have never actually been our own, and we can finally see a fork in this road. She will change the trajectory forever, because I am only 53 and can still shift how I occupy the world. I am not done learning about all the ways I changed my essence and core to ‘fit in’. I can be my whole self, so that she can be too.
She will take her power through connection. That is how we align ourselves and stand up in our selves like queens. That is what will happen when we are driven by love not only for others, but for ourselves. When radical positive regard extends beyond the purview of those we encounter and becomes radical positive regard for self. Head over heart, heart over womb, womb over feet, we can choose a new direction. We can accept how great we are. How kind we are. How badass we are. And in doing so, begin to regain some sovereignty over the way humanity treats our natural world. We stand in a long line of mothers. We are alive and pulling that line with us. We can protect the generosity of our planet, the generosity of ourselves, and the beauty of collaborative effort. We can do it if we understand we are doing it for our daughters.
-Ariadne