Monday, November 17, 2008

Paper 3: A Proposition

The topic for my paper is not completely developed. I wanted to explore some relationship between women and religion. I was kind of thinking about researching the sacred feminine in different cultures, but i'm not sure how i would refine that. On a little bit of a different note, i am also interested about women in polygamy (thanks to the discovery channel) and i think maybe a paper about that would be interesting and a bit easier to tailor. What do you think?

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Offerings of Hope and Strength

If you want to understand any woman you must first ask about her mother and then listen carefully.” How little I know. I have taken a sacred relationship between generations of women, and made it selfish. My mother and grandmother know everything about me; they could probably tell my stories. I could not, before now, tell theirs. But the story of Dinah touched me; she taught me the importance of remembering and retelling. She spoke of her mothers’ stories with the utmost admiration: “Their stories were like offerings of hope and strength poured out before the Queen of Heaven, only these gifts were not for any god or goddess - but for me.”

Her memories of her mothers stem from her time in the Red Tent, where menstruation was a blessing that was the passing of last month’s death, a welcoming of the next month’s life, and time to be spent together, passing on their memories and knowledge. Through the mouths of their daughters was the only way these women would carry on after death. The memories of the others would deteriorate with their body, and then be lost forever, little more than dust. “It is terrible how much has been forgotten, which is why, I suppose, remembering seems a holy thing.” I want to remember the stories of my mothers. I want to know of their struggles with the changing times, their personal lives, their careers, their pasts, and what they hope for the future. There are no red tents here, but they have shared their stories with me, and I hope by retelling them, I am able to do justice to their lives, repaying them for all they have given me.

My Grandmother’s Story

From the time she was a child, my incredible grandmother, Janine, was taking care of more than she should have been, a habit she never really broke. She was told that a woman’s job in a marriage was to have the house clean, the laundry done, the children taken care of, and the meal on the table. This advice was given almost hypocritically; her mother did none of this, she did. She took care of the house, went to school, and then later, at age fourteen, got a job working as a maid in a hotel. I cannot imagine the pressure of being the traditional ‘woman of the house’ and being a child. Added to that pressure were problems within her family. Her father was abusive and an alcoholic. She recalls asking her mother, “Mom, why do you stay?” Usually her questions were dismissed by her mother’s answer, “A bad Daddy is better than no Daddy at all.” She later told me that it was her own observations that made her decide this was not the truth. She decided that regardless of what her mother told her, divorce was an option, especially if the problems within a marriage affect the children.

She grew up in the projects, and it was her dream to escape that life. Instead she wanted a home with a husband that would love her forever, filled with their babies. Her dream would come true, starting with her marriage to my grandfather. From the day she put on her wedding ring, sealed with a kiss that was her family’s tradition, she did not take it off until the gold bands broke apart from wear.

I can still see the overwhelming love in my Grandparent’s relationship. Just during the time we were at dinner, her honey called to make sure she would be home soon; he was worried it was getting too dark for her to be out alone. They have their routines and their date nights. They still hold hands. My grandpa jokingly complains about how my grandmother glues herself to him in her sleep.

My grandmother got exactly what she wanted. She had her forever. Soon she was pregnant with my father. I remember this story well.

“I looked at this baby, and I thought to myself ‘I can never love anything as much as I love him.’ I didn’t even want another one because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to love him as much. I was such a fool! Of course I could, I realized that later. Love doesn’t have limits. I could love your dad, your grandpa, and another baby, all as much, all at the same time. Your grandpa said no, though… It wasn’t my fault my birth control pills got flushed down the toilet.”

It is quite an accomplishment to render me speechless. My grandma had succeeded. I just sat there for a minute, and then busted into a fit of laughter. She just sat there, half smile half smirk. I asked her if Grandpa knew. “I assume so,” she said, “But I never outright told him.” I wonder if my uncle knows he is the product of my grandmother’s deviousness.

She raised her babies and kept her house. At one time, before her second child was born she thought she might want to work. She worked for three days before she could no longer stand being away from her baby so long. From that day until her youngest was in fourth grade, and she was thirty-two, she didn’t step foot in a job, not that being a full time mother wasn’t job enough. Her not working made financial situations a little tighter. To make things easier, she made all of their meals from scratch, even the ones she sent with her children to school. The first time my father ever saw processed food was at the age of eight. He came home asking my grandma why he never got those strange cookies in the foil bags: Oreos. She was told that the wants and needs of her children came first. She never really deviated from that advice. Even now, she worries and their needs, putting them before her own.

My grandmother was only employed as a mother until the age of thirty two, when her youngest son was in fourth grade. Now, she has worked her way up to a management position. My grandmother has risen from the hardest of situations, and brought to my life complete adoration. As a child I was part of her, a shadow that followed her around, probably most often against convenience. But of course, she preferred things this way, as did I. I remember her doting on me as a child; I was a daughter that she never had. Now, she and grandpa like to go out and enjoy their time together, still incredibly in love. She still has her babies and grandbabies too. “I don’t feel like I ever missed out on anything,” she said. “I got everything I ever wanted.”

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My Mother’s Story

My mom grew up with old-fashioned parents. My mom recalls seeing my grandma waiting on my grandpa hand and foot. He would sit in his recliner as she delivered him his meals. She did all of the cleaning and taking care of the children taking care of her daughters all while working. Neither she nor her mother held any animosity towards the way things were, though. “He was always very appreciative,” my mom said, “and never complained about what she had fixed but there was still little relief for her.” “Daughters eased their mothers' burdens” though, and my mother was cooking meals for her family—just the way her dad liked them—by the time she was thirteen.

She continued to grow up faster than was normal. By only fifteen, she was to be a mother. She was obviously thrown into adulthood all too fast, missing the years of high school that she considers a time to grow and really get to know oneself.

She embraced the pregnancy and incorporated it into her dreams, and as a pregnant teenager, she wanted what my grandma wanted. She wanted a home, her baby, love, and to be happy: to live the perfect life, to be the perfect mother and wife. “As a teenager,” she recalls, “I gave birth to my first beautiful daughter who was born on Thanksgiving Day, which also happened to be my Sweet Sixteen. I can remember that day so clearly. I thought I knew it all that. I thought I had the most beautiful baby in the world and it would be a piece of cake. I never changed my mind on ‘the most beautiful baby in the world’ part, but oh, how I was wrong about everything else. Having a baby when you are a teenager has to be one of the most difficult things I have done in my life; one of the most rewarding now…but one of the most difficult then.”

My mother’s life was not without personal or financial struggles. There were dark days in her life that neither of us revisits. But my mother is a fascinating person who is able to look back on those days with lessons learned. “I want people to know that even through my darkest days. I truly never stopped loving and feeling compassion,” She tells me, “I might have given up on myself but I never gave up on the dream of being a perfect wife, perfect mom and a true friend to everyone I met. I believe that I get this from my dad; he would have given his last dollar to help a complete stranger. I also want them to know that I have come to peace with my struggles. I have not lived anywhere near a perfect life. I am not the perfect mother, the perfect wife, or a perfect friend but one thing I can say is I am truly a caring individual that loves very deeply. I want people to know that even with my past my kids are number one and I would give my life for any of them.” My mom carries this philosophy with her every day. I have seen her befriend people at the worst times of their lives, and help them get back on track. Our couch is open to her friends who need a little extra help, but so is her heart, much more importantly. I know that the lesson of forgiveness and compassion is the most important lesson my mother has taught me. I will go through life knowing when forgiveness is needed, and when you have to stand up for yourself.

Regardless of her struggles, she says she now has more than she could have ever imagined. She is proud of what her life has become. “I have obtained so much more than I ever initially wanted. I have four beautiful children, a wonderful husband, and I am a successful business woman, “she says, but adds “I still am not done accomplishing things in my life. I will continue to look for more each and every day.”

Despite the choices her mother made to take care of her husband in such a way, my mother was never outright told what her job as a mother or wife was. She said she was never told her purpose because her parents had wanted her to come to her own beliefs and conclusions; her purpose however was always implied. My mother now feels that a woman has many jobs in marriage and motherhood. She knows that it is imperative to her family that she works, but still feels pressure to uphold the role of a traditional wife: take care of the kids, make sure dinner is ready, ensure the house is clean, and work a forty hour plus week.

While she feels all of these things are important, my mother says “I believe a woman has multiple jobs in a relationship. The first, and I believe one of the most important, is compassion. I also believe part of the woman’s job in a relationship is to know when to give, but also when to take for herself. I do at certain times feel obligated to uphold the traditional view; however, it is also extremely important to me that my family see that there is more to their wife or mother than the ‘traditional wife and mother.’ I try hard to break a little of that mold but still let them know what the importance is of a home cooked meal, or taking time out to do something extra for your husband and kids.”
It came as no surprise when my mother told me she knows, not believes, that the most important thing in life is family. It is a value that has been instilled in her since she was young. “My mom and dad where very young when they got married, I believe my mom was only seventeen. A few months after they married my mom’s mom passed away. My mom was not the oldest of the family but her and my dad took in four of her brothers and sisters. They raised them as they were their own children. At one time we lived in a one and a half bedroom house in Kansas City, KS. At night we would make pallets on the floor to sleep. My parents always made them feel that they were just as much a part of the family as their biological kids were. My dad never complained about having to work two jobs to take care of all of us. My mom never complained about having to cook and clean for all of us. We all knew we were going to stick together.”

“When she was a child, my mom was poor, and her mom was not in very good health. She still tells me how much she loves her mom and that her mom always made things work. On cold winter evenings when money was tight and there was nothing for dinner her mom would fix hot chocolate and toast. They would all sit on floor together like it was a party. As a child on cold winter evenings my mom did the same with us kids; except this time we had the money for dinner we just chose to make a party out of it.” She smiles remembering this story.
“My dad as a child lived in Wyoming in a box car camp. These were actual box cars made into a house in an old coal mine town. They had no running water or heat. My dad says he didn’t really mind it. They all snuggled next to each other telling stories of what they were going to do when they grew up; that is just families doing what they do.”

My mom has passed on that tradition of always putting your family first, but while doing so, she has always taught us that family is not limited to those of blood relation. Family consists of those who you draw your strength and compassion from when you have none left, no matter who those people are. “Family is where you can laugh and be a goof when the entire world seems to be too serious. Family is where it doesn’t matter what you do they are there to support you.”

My mom is a firm believer that where you are today is thanks to what decisions you made yesterday. That is why she takes nothing back. She might not have the four children that she loves so much. She may not be a successful businesswoman, or learned as much about life. Sure she has made mistakes, but how could she completely take them back when she has learned so much? She is now where she wants to be. “If I did not weather the storm, I would be a completely different person,” she says.

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Both of these women have been an incredible part of my life. They have given me all of the advice and guidance I could ask for. My grandma tells me the importance of my education, and to avoid getting in a hurry. “Take your time and find what is right for you, as well as who is right for you.” She reminds me, perhaps every time that I talk to her, that there is always space for me in her home and life. However sporadically, I enjoy our lunches and the occasional pedicure that we share together.

My mom constantly tells me of the endless possibilities for me. I do not know if she realizes she started a new tradition in our family. On my graduation day, she read to me Oh The Places You Will Go in front of a crowd. However silly the poem was, it held a significant meaning, and I laughed along with her – and might have rolled my eyes a time or two—as we both cried. I know my sister and I are blessed to have the constant stream of her advice. She writes to us now:

“To my beautiful daughters: As you grow up my hopes are that you have self respect. I hope that you have strength everyday of your life, and when you think you are out, you draw it from your family. I hope you remember compassion for people even when you think they don’t deserve it, because you never know what their situation is. I want you to always be true to who you are; Do not change for anybody but yourself. I want you to remember that everybody makes mistakes and deserves a second chance, and that includes yourself. When you do make a mistake remember to pick yourself up, hold your head up high and move forward. Live your life looking forward not back. If you are forever looking back, you may run into a wall. Only look back to remember the lesson, then continue to the future.”

Just as her mother’s stories are a part of her, my mother’s stories are now a part of me, along with my grandma’s. Their stories will not end with me, like Dinah’s mother’s did: “The chain connecting mother to daughter was broken and the word passed to the keeping of men, who had no way of knowing.” But I will carry them, along with the lessons they taught, and tell them to my daughter. Their stories were a gift to me as well, advice that will help me, and pasts that I can learn from. From these women and their stories, I wish to take many things. From my grandmother, I wish to take her complete devotion to all things involving her family; I wish to carry on her pure views of love. From my mother I wish to take her compassion from others, and the weight at which she holds her family. From both I wish to take their strength and perseverance. Perhaps my wedding ring will be sealed with a kiss and not taken off until the bands break. Maybe I my family will share hot chocolate and toast in our home on cold winter nights, sharing our stories. Regardless, I know that Dinah was right. If you want to know something about a woman, you must first learn the stories of her mother.


Italicized quotations from The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Diamant, Anita. The Red Tent. New York: Spark Group, 2003.