MOTHERHOOD:

I woke up this morning to a baby puking on me while smiling unapologetically. For the first time her lack of inhibition worried me. This Mother's Day, I thought I'd be reflecting on being a mother for the first time and jot down some mushy words, instead, I think back to the day I walked in on my mom having greater aspirations for my daughter than she did for me.

My dad raised me to thrive in the world I deserved, my mom raised me to survive in the world I was born into. Needles to say, my dad's parenting was liberating and empowering, my mom's was stifling and suffocating, so of the two parents I always rebelled against HER. She would often say that I was created fighting her given how difficult her pregnancy was with me. She was right, my earliest memories with my mom are of our arguments. We fought like the swords of two warriors: I was driven by a desire to be free and capable, her by fear that I might suffer consequences the patriarchy metes out to misbehaving women. She wanted me to have an easy life and the easiest way to do that was by just accepting the role I was born into. I was unapologetically me with my dad as my cheerleader and rejected her vision for my life; little did I know the patriarchy would see me as misbehaving.

As I grew older, so did my ambitions and so did her fear, our battles increased in intensity. Things were even worse when we came to the U.S. her biggest fear was that I would act as though I were an American and land us all in deportation proceedings, my biggest fear was that people wouldn't value me the same as they valued Americans. But there was another level of suffocation, upon arriving in the U.S. my mom took up a minimum wage job where the chemicals she was exposed to scarred her face. Instead of being angry at the U.S.'s broken promises of safe workplaces and of wealth, I was angry at her for coming to one of the richest countries in the world and CHOOSING the job that made us poor. She was always fearful that spending one extra dollar was the difference between making and not making rent. I was angry at not being able to spend that extra dollar. Her body became the focus of my rage-not the patriarchy or an exploitive economic system, I saw all of my misery as being caused by HER.

As I grew into womanhood though, things started to change, I would experience some of the patriarchal consequences my mom was trying to protect me from and I had to acknowledge that she must know something I didn't. I started to interface directly with the patriarchy rather than through her. Our relationship began to improve because I could now see what she already knew was there. Another thing happened, as I rebelled against these systems, my mom would come to realize that I wasn't alone, that the patriarchy would throw its first punch, but that I would recover and recover well. Over the years we started to understand each other better until I had my daughter.

Having my daughter and wanting her to have both, an easy life and everything in life, brought me a bit of fear. I know she can't have both and I too would rather her have an easy life. I am so much more cautious for her than I ever was for me and every time she does something misbehaving I am both proud of and fearful for her. Motherhood is where women negotiate the patriarchy across generations. My mom could now have greater aspirations for her granddaughter than she had for me, and I have to contend with my mother's fears through my daughter. We have negotiated and reached a quiet truce. So to mothers who buckle under the patriarchy and mothers who rebel against it, all I could say this Mother's Day is that I understand you.