Being a woman in this world
Feb. 16th, 2021 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feldmanI lost my favorite aunt, last night. It was a Good Death, in that she had very firm ideas about when and how she wanted to go, and she managed it with some luck and some hospice, and probably no little force of will. Dad's taking it well, because he's got a Buddhist equanimity even if he's not a guy who can verbalize it much. I'm taking it less well, because I'd still been hoping to see her again.
When I got married last century, she cornered my maternal grandmother at the reception to talk wigs, as grandma had alopecia, and my aunt was facing down chemo. It came back during the Pandemic Year, this time all over, and she quit treatment in the fall because she wanted to enjoy the time left. So this was expected, and she's released from sickness and pain, but it hurts. And I think, she was my favorite because she was one of the people I looked up to, not just as a kid, but my whole life. And this last thing she showed me was how to have a good death.
The first thing she showed me was that femme is a choice, and it is not weak. I've been thinking about gender recently. Which is not exactly true. I've been thinking about gender since I was a wee little feldman and realized that (inside myself, apart from the greater meanings in the world) I liked being a girl, I could work with it, but I was definitely getting pushback that I was doing gender wrong. But thinking about how big or small the category of 'woman' is, and the people and forces that have either included or excluded me.
My aunt was well-dressed and coiffed, with a bold lip and so. much. energy. packed into that tiny frame it was hard to remember she wasn't even five feet tall. She was a supervisor in a factory when I was small, and she referred to her makeup as war paint. She got a tattoo, in the 80's, so people would stop looking at her tits. She wore heels so she could look men in the eye easier, and she did her nails every Sunday night so she'd have fresh claws for the work week. She told me beauty is pain, and to never trust a man who cared more for his appearance than I did for mine, but both cliches were super nuanced with the context that aesthetics have their place in everyone's toolkit. That these are choices you make to express who you are, and what you're doing. And if Aunt L has no problem with my nerdy tomboy self, who the fuck are you to tell me I'm girling wrong?
She cut my hair my whole childhood. She'd wash it after with strawberry shampoo so I wouldn't go crazy from the clippings on my skin, giving me a washcloth to keep the water out of my eyes. Through high school she gave me perms in her kitchen so I'd have an easy to care for style in the big hair 80's. She saw my sensory issues and just accommodated them without comment or judgment. She bought her makeup at the fancy department store, or the drugstore, or DIY from the beauty supply, whatever wore better for the money, and taught me that olive oil is the best thing for our family's Mediterranean skin, even when it was mixed with skim-milk slavic genes in my case.
She overcame a lot of challenges; teen pregnancy, domestic violence, single motherhood, drug addiction, cancer. She acknowledged her mistakes, and wasn't afraid to roll up her sleeves and change course. She'd see you, she'd feed you, she'd laugh with you, because life should be fun, or what's the point? She was given a lot of turds, but she composted and made a garden and canned some fucking marinara. She taught me that drudgery vs hustle is in the mind behind the work.
Seeing her with her eldest daughter gave me a different mother-daughter dynamic to aim for with my own daughter. My mom and I, it's always been uneasy and bittersweet for a variety of reasons; I love her, but we don't connect like I do with my dad (or my mom's mom). it's only now that my own daughter is 14 that I'm finally losing the fear that this disconnect will repeat. I feel like my kid and I have built something close and genuine, like what I saw with my aunt and her daughter. She showed me it was possible to be a connected mother, and how to transition to being genuine friends with your kids as adults.
She was a dynamo, and she spins on in a lot of us.
When I got married last century, she cornered my maternal grandmother at the reception to talk wigs, as grandma had alopecia, and my aunt was facing down chemo. It came back during the Pandemic Year, this time all over, and she quit treatment in the fall because she wanted to enjoy the time left. So this was expected, and she's released from sickness and pain, but it hurts. And I think, she was my favorite because she was one of the people I looked up to, not just as a kid, but my whole life. And this last thing she showed me was how to have a good death.
The first thing she showed me was that femme is a choice, and it is not weak. I've been thinking about gender recently. Which is not exactly true. I've been thinking about gender since I was a wee little feldman and realized that (inside myself, apart from the greater meanings in the world) I liked being a girl, I could work with it, but I was definitely getting pushback that I was doing gender wrong. But thinking about how big or small the category of 'woman' is, and the people and forces that have either included or excluded me.
My aunt was well-dressed and coiffed, with a bold lip and so. much. energy. packed into that tiny frame it was hard to remember she wasn't even five feet tall. She was a supervisor in a factory when I was small, and she referred to her makeup as war paint. She got a tattoo, in the 80's, so people would stop looking at her tits. She wore heels so she could look men in the eye easier, and she did her nails every Sunday night so she'd have fresh claws for the work week. She told me beauty is pain, and to never trust a man who cared more for his appearance than I did for mine, but both cliches were super nuanced with the context that aesthetics have their place in everyone's toolkit. That these are choices you make to express who you are, and what you're doing. And if Aunt L has no problem with my nerdy tomboy self, who the fuck are you to tell me I'm girling wrong?
She cut my hair my whole childhood. She'd wash it after with strawberry shampoo so I wouldn't go crazy from the clippings on my skin, giving me a washcloth to keep the water out of my eyes. Through high school she gave me perms in her kitchen so I'd have an easy to care for style in the big hair 80's. She saw my sensory issues and just accommodated them without comment or judgment. She bought her makeup at the fancy department store, or the drugstore, or DIY from the beauty supply, whatever wore better for the money, and taught me that olive oil is the best thing for our family's Mediterranean skin, even when it was mixed with skim-milk slavic genes in my case.
She overcame a lot of challenges; teen pregnancy, domestic violence, single motherhood, drug addiction, cancer. She acknowledged her mistakes, and wasn't afraid to roll up her sleeves and change course. She'd see you, she'd feed you, she'd laugh with you, because life should be fun, or what's the point? She was given a lot of turds, but she composted and made a garden and canned some fucking marinara. She taught me that drudgery vs hustle is in the mind behind the work.
Seeing her with her eldest daughter gave me a different mother-daughter dynamic to aim for with my own daughter. My mom and I, it's always been uneasy and bittersweet for a variety of reasons; I love her, but we don't connect like I do with my dad (or my mom's mom). it's only now that my own daughter is 14 that I'm finally losing the fear that this disconnect will repeat. I feel like my kid and I have built something close and genuine, like what I saw with my aunt and her daughter. She showed me it was possible to be a connected mother, and how to transition to being genuine friends with your kids as adults.
She was a dynamo, and she spins on in a lot of us.
no subject
Date: 2021-02-16 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-16 05:52 pm (UTC)I'm sorry for your loss.
no subject
Date: 2021-02-16 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-16 07:00 pm (UTC)I am glad she had a Good Death. That it was on her terms and her terms only.
no subject
Date: 2021-02-16 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-16 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-16 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-17 03:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-17 04:36 am (UTC)