Bags (Prelude)

It takes a long time for young girls to view their mothers as human. We grow up watching them conquer the world like superwomen; all the while, gaining unrealistic ideas of what we have to live up to. Trying to walk in mommy’s shoes, our spirits overwhelmed with the notion that we could never fill them…until that morning we wake up and realize that our mothers, much like us, are not perfect. Every woman can pin point that day, that moment, that incident that defined her newfound relationship with her mom. The day that we began to despise instead of emulate them. That day that we began to look down upon them, wish they were better, smarter, richer, prettier, more ambitious, skinnier, braver, more independent…and we hold onto that resentment. It walks with us, breeds life inside of us and becomes the space that harbors dislike for other women who look and act just like us and who walk the same walk as us. It becomes the place we harbor self hate. We begin to blame our mothers for the reasons we don’t have more, hurt less or know how to love better.

Somewhere down the line, somewhere in the mainstream of our adulthood, where self acceptance meets forgiveness, we begin to look into the mirror and see them. Many made mistakes. Many did what they could at the time with what they had. Many were young, some too young to be raising children. Some were angry, not at us, but at the world for not taking more responsibility for our children and placing more value on our lives, equipping mothers with the necessities of what it takes to not have to work three jobs and depend ONLY on the grace of God to raise us.

Some will never reach this knowing until they too become mothers, when they can finally look their mothers in the eyes and say “I know what you were going through…” Some of us will never get there because somewhere deep down we’re still carrying the burden of all that pain, still feeding off of the idea that we are worth less than the mistakes that our mothers made.

Only when we allow ourselves to let down our guard and heal can we begin to peer into their eyes and see ourselves in them. Only when we begin to base our perception of them less on their mistakes and more on the knowledge of how FUCKING hard it is to be a woman in this world will we accept them as human. Our mothers deserve that much…they deserve to be accepted, acknowledged, loved, adored because they carried us; not only in their wombs but through life. Our mothers are the backbone of society. They nurture life and prolong existence. Where would we be without them?
Mommy, I dedicate this poem to you. You will forever be a superwoman in my eyes…