Roselyn Berry, Contributor to Moving, for You: A Tribute to Empathy
The following passages are excerpted from Revolutionary Words.
BAGS, Part I Finding the Humanness in Her
(Dedicated to my mother: Darleen Rebecca Fernandez. RIP)
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 children 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 of us will never reach this knowing until we too become mothers, when we can finally look our 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…
Bags, Part II Letters to My Mother
Since when did we become mothers to our mothers?
A vicious cycle of dependency
Passed on by the hands of another
Forced to carry the burden of centuries of
Pain
Addiction
Depression
Abuse
Resentment
Taught that houses have walls for a reason
What happens at home stays at home!
To forsake that vow would have been treason
And so we carry it with us
Like ripped shopping bags
Handles no longer intact
Leaving small pieces of ourselves wherever we land
Whoever we touch can smell the scent of our sweaty hands
Wrinkled and tired from carrying all of these
Bags…
Full of the faint remembrance of childhood
Smells like loneliness…
They were much older than me
Smells like abandonment…
Why doesn’t anyone want me?!
Smells like broken promises…
He’ll come back!
Smells like denial…
Stop lying! Don’t you dare say that!
Smells like regret…
Sex, drugs, and alcohol
Smells like giving up…
Blood stained t-shirts, empty pill bottles, and suicide calls
Bags spill over you know…
When they get too full
Because no matter how tattered they get,
We still keep holding on
And we pass those things on
To our daughters
It plays out in the ways we treat our womaness
Relationships built on hurt
And so we resort to loving the men
Who do the same to us as our fathers did to them
Love them from the depths of our soul
Because we’ve been taught that we need a man to be whole
That we must keep holding on
Clutching tight to whoever we are privileged enough to have love us
Somewhere in the midst of trying to bury
That very rigid way of thinking
We gave up on the desire to be adored
Somewhere down the line
Independence turned into denial
Convincing ourselves that it’s not okay to need
Love
Adoration
Affection
And
Affirmation
We forget about our worth
We become the dirt locked deep in the crevices of our hands
Skin thin
From carrying all of those bags
Somewhere
Somehow
The woman that birthed us from her womb,
Cradled us in her bosom,
Told us we were beautiful and
Challenged us to dream
Became the woman we despised
Vowed to never emulate
And we blame them
For our trust issues
For not believing us when they should have
For choosing men over their children
For doing drugs
Being sluts
Being dependent on love
For giving up
Being absent
Working too much
Expecting too much
Hurting us
Deserting us
Dear Mommy, I needed you to tell me about your struggle I needed you to let me see your pain To be vulnerable so that I could know it was ok I needed you to share your story with me I needed you to tell me that it hurt like hell when he left And that it was hard to have to work three jobs to make up for where he lacked I needed you to tell me there were times that you wanted him back I needed you to tell me that my vagina was beautiful And that sex wasn’t dirty I needed you to protect me and stand up for me
But truth be told
Our mothers did the best that they could
At the time
With what little they had
They too are broken
They too are tired
Their hands are swollen from the bags they’ve carried since
They were little girls
So then how do we find ways to honor them?
With all of the resentment that we harbor
How do we let go of mistakes made despite us
To become better daughters
Dear Mommy, your whole life you’ve been fighting Mother since the age of 20 The only living you’ve known was surviving You raised an entire family on your own When he left you alone and mommy, I’m amazed That even through all the pain You were still able to put clothes on our backs and food on the table Not enough to eat You went hungry for us Cried nights because three jobs STILL weren’t enough! And no matter how many mistakes we made you forgot and forgave And never threw us away And so this is what it means to me To obtain my dreams So that I can one day give back At least a tiny bit of what you’ve given to me So in my adulthood I’ve carried these bags proudly Because though they’re heavy They’re what you’ve passed down to me I’ll do the work and tell the stories To lighten the load So that my daughters Won’t have to carry them alone Only God knows how many days are left Until death steals your breath So I’ve devoted the rest of mine To letting go and moving on So that I can cherish the time that we have left
I love you mommy.
Roselyn Berry is the author of Revolutionary Words, which explores both the resilience and oppression of marginalized communities in the United States, as well as the fight for liberation of all Black, Brown, and poor people internationally, adapted into spoken word poetry. (This excerpt is from Kindle Location 413 - 515, Kindle Edition.)
Calligraphy by Amorosa5