Nurture Wins

I had been planning a post for the blog on nature vs. nuture in regards to mother/daughter relationships for about a month. My biological mother, the woman who gave birth to me as a child, died when I was eight. I was raised by another woman, the woman who I called Mom, and had noticed that I was turning out a lot like her despite our lack of shared genetic material. I had some insights on growing up without a woman around to whom you could look to in terms of how you would age, and other rather shallow thoughts. Then on New Years Eve, I lost my Mom, the woman who gave birth to me as an adult, and that essay got scrapped for this one.

This blog seems a fitting place for a tribute to her not only because, as noted below, she was a guest on WOW, but because she was a strong, amazing feminist. She taught me how to struggle against anti-choicers, how to never be told to be quiet and instead to raise my voice as loud as I could. She, with my father, taught me about equality and partnership. She introduced me to Carole King's Tapestry, a record she would listen to in the dark times of her 20s, which then became a record I listen to in my dark times. I am listening to it right now, in fact.

My mother was a single mother in graduate school in her 20s, took on a second child in her 30s and went back to follow her dream of being a natural healer in her 40s. Her patients will tell you that she was an incredibly gifted acupunturist. I can attest to that too, as she saved me from what could have been a fatal allergy attack with her needles. She practiced yoga and loved chocolate and the movie The Birdcage. She had the biggest heart, and the most beautiful skin, of anyone I've ever known. She was the first person I would call when I had good news to share, and the first person I called when I had my heart broken - and she always picked up the phone, even at 2:00 in the morning. Especially at 2:00 in the morning.

As I grew older, I could see my mother struggling with balancing parenthood with friendship with feminism, and I can tell you it is a delicate balance. She watched both of us, my sister and I, fall off our paths more times than I care to think about and loved us regardless. She pushed me to go to law school but embraced me when I told her I didn't want to go into a traditional field. We had a complicated relationship, like most parents and children do, but I always knew she was there no matter what.

Her death has brought back some of the nature vs. nuture discussion. I can't imagine this feeling any less...biological, for the lack of a better word. It feels like my cells have changed. I can feel a very physical change in me, beyond the void that is made by missing my number one support. I was already inspired by the woman who helped make me who I am, and I am now determined to live by her cherished credos "Be the change you want to see in the world (Ghandi)" and "Kindness is my religion (Dalai Lama)". There is no doubt in my mind that, at least in our case, nurture won.

Among the many swirling thoughts I have had over the last month, I have been so saddened that I did not get more stories from her about her experiences as a woman and feminist. We had just started entering the phase of our relationship where I would share with her my darkest fears, my rage at inequality both personal and more global and she would tell me about her own struggles. Those late night conversations are my favorite memories, and what I will miss the most. If missing is the kind of thing you can quantify.

If you still have your mom, I encourage you to get her stories. Bring her some chocolate and get her talking. And then hold those stories, and her, close to your heart.