Dear Mama: Standing Up to My Mom for the First Time Terri Lomax July 12, 2013 13 Comments When I turned 18 I didn’t feel like a woman and I sure didn’t feel like an adult. I felt like the same little girl who was punched in the face by her mom in the 5th grade, for having a messy desk and writing a love note to a little boy in her class. I felt like the same little girl who cowered in the presence of people who were outspoken and more confident than her. I felt like the same little girl who lived in silence for fear of offending, upsetting, or disagreeing with someone else’s opinion. Despite growing up in an abusive household, I thought that when I turned 18 something magical would happen. I assumed the world would naturally respect me, and treat me like the adult and woman, I longed to be. But they didn’t. It was my sophomore year of college and I was stressed. In addition to staying on top of my academics, finding money for school and trying to maintain my social life, I found myself driving home nearly every weekend to take my siblings to church or to drive them 4 1/2 hours to visit my mom in prison. One weekend while I was home, I got a call from my mom. She called asking if I could bring my siblings to see her, call one of her friends, and do a few other favors. I’ve always been scared of my mom. She is the definition of a strong, black woman. Although she had stopped being abusive when I was an upperclassman in high school, her words were still powerful and captivating enough that when she spoke, positive or negative, her words could either mend a heart or pierce it. After my mom asked me to do a few favors for her. I responded in a way that was foreign to me. I said “No.” With endless tears streaming down my face, I whined, “No, I don’t want to bring them up and I’m not going to. I’ve done so much and I have so much on my plate. I don’t feel like it mom.” I couldn’t believe it! These three seemingly small sentences, were the biggest sentences of my life! I finally said no! I’ve always been a people pleaser, a push over, a hopeless chameleon who conformed to the views of others. As a child, my opinion never mattered and the abuse magnified my unworthiness. I felt like I didn’t exist. I was merely a reflection of everyone that I encountered. I had no opinion, I had no thoughts, I had no mind of my own. However, the day that I said “No” to my mom, was the day that I started fighting for myself. It was the day that I felt like I was finally becoming a woman. My mom sounded shocked and disgusted by this new word that I had learned. She abruptly ended our phone conversation. I cried in my grandfather’s arms hysterically. Standing Up to My Mom for the First Time Although I was vulnerable, I felt like I was finally on my way to becoming a big girl. I followed up that prison call with a long letter, explaining to my mom how I felt. One of the most significant paragraphs from that letter was: “Mom, you are a strong black woman. You’re outspoken and independent. Unfortunately, I wasn’t given the opportunity to be this way. Always being shut down and suppressed, I never had my own opinion because I was so used to agreeing with you, in order to avoid conflict. I never know if I’m sad, mad or happy because I denied my feelings for so long, that when I feel a bad emotion, I feel guilty and suppress it.” Whew! I’m getting emotional just replaying these events! I don’t remember how my mom responded to the letter, but I do know that after the letter, we didn’t talk for some time. It took us a while to rekindle our relationship, and when we did, it was like meeting each other for the first time. My mom had a new found respect for me and I for her. During our time apart, I focused on forgiving my mom for her mistakes. It was a painful but very necessary prerequisite to healing. I also began reinventing myself. I had conformed to those around me for so long, that by this time in my life, I felt like a baby. I felt like I was starting from scratch. It was challenging but sobering. It gave me the opportunity to figure out what womanhood meant to me along with identifying what kind of woman I wanted to become. Some of the characteristics I wanted to possess were: confidence, humility, determination, assertiveness, independence and positivity. Over the last few years, I’ve been able to transform from the timid and fearful young girl that I once was, into a strong black woman. Who would have ever thought? Today, my mom and I have a great relationship. We have our ups and downs but we love each other, we respect each other and I admire her! It’s crazy how generational cycles poison families. After a series of “girl talks” with mom, I learned that she had some very traumatic experiences of her own that contributed to the decisions she made as an adult. If you’re going through a tough situation with a parent or loved one, there is hope. Things can get better. Have you had a similar experience coming into your own as a woman? Please Share!
