For my mother

As International Women’s Day approaches, I want to write about a great woman who inspired me, and whom I loved very much.

When my mother was pregnant with me, the doctor told her that she was going to have a boy. I have been told that she didn’t believe him. She wanted a girl and felt deeply that she was going to give birth to a girl. And lo and behold, my mother was right.

My mom and I didn’t talk much about feminism. Any time I would start on one of my rants about anything, she would tune me out, anyway. She was highly skilled at not listening when she chose not to. I don’t think she necessarily identified as a feminist, but she certainly set a magnificent example.

She left a bad marriage when she was quite young, she eventually took on single parenthood and did a superb job, she struggled to complete her degree and various other certifications while working full-time and raising me, she fought to break through the glass ceiling in her career, and she ignored all the narrow-minded people who whispered and spread rumours about her because she chose to share a home with a friend (because there is no other way to comprehend why two single women would live in the same house, without a man *gasp*).

My mom was my first feminist icon. I often wish I could tell her how amazing I thought she was, and how much I appreciated everything she did, and sacrificed, for me. That’s the thing when a parent dies suddenly at a fairly young age. I was a smart-mouthed little shit for much of my youth, but I grew into a decent adult. I didn’t really feel like an adult until I was in my late twenties, and that was when my mom died. And since I was living abroad at the time, she only caught glimpses of how I was maturing and really coming into my own. She wasn’t the communicative type, but I’ve been told by others that she was proud of me. Making her proud was always one of my ambitions. The only thing about me that I know displeased her was my lack of desire to have children. This is where I think I might have influenced her. I suspect I taught her how to be more accepting.

From my mother, I learned the importance of being self-sufficient (emotionally, financially, etc.) and hard-working. I am incredibly grateful to her for that.