Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Families.

I do it for myself.
As we become who we are we learn things through implication and through expression. I was taught being proactive and efficient in house chores and cleanliness were priorities. I volunteered to do these in hopes I’d get appreciated for being thoughtful even though I saw no intrinsic value in these tasks. Doing my thing as a 10 year old girl, I liked to wear big clothes. I wasn’t a fashionista, I was more focused on having fun. Shortly after puberty, I would get “talks” about the way I dressed. They weren’t long talks, but the short side comments made me reconsider myself every time. Maybe I should’ve done something with my hair to avoid the judgement. The emotional consequences I faced for not agreeing with set expectations kept me in my place regarding my opinion. Being a woman for others rather than focusing on growing for myself was what was modeled as important. I was exposed to other priorities from being in another presence.
By Cinha Sy6 years ago in Families
Finding Warmth
Maybe the word cold doesn’t necessarily provoke the most endearing of sentiments, but it’s the truth of where this story starts.
By Mal6 years ago in Families
a place to call home
When I was a child, I didn’t notice that we were different. I didn’t notice that other mothers didn't wear miniskirts and leather jackets to parents evening. I didn't notice that other children weren’t taken on these insane thrilling holidays at least twice a year, where there would be dancing, laughing and crying and feeling truly connected to the world and everyone in it. I didn’t notice how other people's homes didnt have 713 books, five guitars and six cats. I thought everyone’s mum was special, a philanthropist and moved mountains and their actions aligned with their values. Today you can find my mother in our cosy London flat which has art covering every inch of space and books spilling off shelves and onto the floors and tables. We have a pile of bills and receipts living on our sofa, which my mother will sometimes shred. Her books range from French philosophy to art encyclopedias, but most are psychology books that helped her out of some dark places and which now help me on my journey. My mother’s name is Cina.
By Lillie Aissa6 years ago in Families
Celebrating Herstory
Women didn’t divorce their husbands in 1930. Especially not without a job or way to support your children. But not my grandmother. She was not going to let her sons see her be beaten and abused or worse yet to grow up without a mother at all. So as difficult and dangerous as the decision may have been, she chose to live. Lilly Mae was a woman, an African American woman, and she was a single-mother in the South, during the Great Depression. The odds, were definitely not in her favor. But Lilly Mae, had come from a long line of strong women. Women of faith, educated, and resourceful women. Her mother was an educator. She was not the first woman in my blood line to defy the odds and certainly not the last. As I thought of the women that I felt deserved honor during Women’s History Month, I had to pay respect to my grandmother and mother. They have both taught me how not only to survive, but how to thrive, even in the midst of tremendous trials.
By Dr. Tonia The Communication Coach6 years ago in Families
To the Woman who changed my life: Thank you.
Its 1am, I’m crying loud enough for the whole of England to hear. The nightmares have taken over again for the third time this week and this time it's impossible to forget. For a brief moment I feel like I'm alone, the little 7 year old me is frightened and needs comfort. And for the slight moment of loneliness I felt not long ago, it is now replaced with a warmth when a hand is stroking my head, telling me it is all a nightmare and she is there to keep me safe. Then, with the lullaby of Que Sera Sera, I drift back to sleep with my mother lying right next to me.
By Manveen Kaur6 years ago in Families
Survivor, Worker, Dreamer : My Mother
My mother is not gentle, feminine and full of love. My mother is tough, hard on the edges and quick on her feet. She is in survival mode on the daily.
By Anne Fromont6 years ago in Families
She Inspired Her
I'd like to vote for my adult daughter Crystal Emmanuel who is the Editor of www.SheInspiredHer.com – an exciting, fast-moving, dynamic, inspiring, nurturing platform for women in business and for female entrepreneurs.
By ANKH Place6 years ago in Families
My Husband, My Hero
The Past At first, it did not occur to me that he was abusive. He didn’t hit me. It wasn’t until after I left that I realised it was abuse. Every type of abuse except he didn’t hit me. He shouted, he lied, he stole, there was financial abuse and gaslighting (I didn’t know what that was until I read about it and realised that’s exactly what was going on). I wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it. When he took money from me to spend on drink, I don’t know if it occurred to him that it was wrong or if he thought it was somehow acceptable.
By Sapphire Ravenclaw6 years ago in Families
To the Woman Who Gave Birth to my Kids
To my Kids’ Birth Mother, It may seem strange to say that I admire you, but I do. Without ever meeting me, you entrusted me to raise your three children.
By Heather Down6 years ago in Families
The Heart of a Woman
“FIVE-DOLLAR FRIED FISH & FRIES! GET YOUR FRIED FISH AND FRIES,” I reluctantly shouted on the street corner. The summer sun was beaming down on me. I could see the heat waves rippling through the air as people drove passed me, ignoring my offer. My mother watched as I waved our sign with very little fervor. I could hear her mumbling to herself in Creole. Her mumbles turned into extended teeth sucking, the kind only Caribbean women can produce out of frustration.
By The Creole Griot 6 years ago in Families
My mother, my true hero.
As a child, I witnessed my father beating my mother. My siblings and I would run away when he got in one of his moods. On these nights, we waited outside and kept watch for the lights to go out. That was our signal that it was safe to return. It would take hours some nights. When the lights went out, we knew our father had fallen asleep. We would tiptoe back inside and continue sleeping. So many times, like me, she cried for mercy when no longer able to bear the pain. My mother wore sunglasses to work the following day to cover up the bruises. The more I thought about my mother, the more I realized would end up just like her if I did nothing.
By Grace James Kumkee6 years ago in Families
One Wedding Day
My mother woke me with a tender swipe above my cheek and for a second as my eyes seem to draw to focus I thought I saw my mother in her younger years instead of now with grey peppered locks that hung to the left side of her aged face with her glowing life filled eyes of my childhood.
By Sabiyya Brown6 years ago in Families