Phone calls with my brown Mother
I attended EWOCC yesterday and I was reminded how resilient my brown Mother is. I called her today and thanked her for all the love she has given me. She started to cry. Knowing my Mother, I knew she would. She tells me that every morning is a struggle but that my younger siblings and I keep her going and keep her strong. I begin to cry knowing that those tears weigh so much. Those tears hold years of trauma, wisdom, courage, and knowledge. I tell her a lot of the traumatic experiences she faced were not OK and should not have happened. A form of resistance, her presence, so I cry with her. She resisted in the ways that she could, given her context. I told her that I wanted to make sure she knew that I am who I am, because of her and that she has done so much already, even if she feels like she has not. I told her she was part of me and lives through me, connected. As I heal, I am reminded who matters and crying is the best way to heal and feel connected. I come from a lineage of badass womxn that survived and continue to survive. My mother with brown skin, black straight long hair, dark-brown eyes is beautiful. If my Grandmother and my Mother have made it this far than so can I.
