Like Mothers Like Daughters

After having been married for five years, my grandma had yet to get pregnant. At the time, my grandfather told her that she had to be the one with the problem, and as such, she should seek medical help. One of the stories I remember grandma telling us when we were younger, was how in one of those doctor’s appointments, with her mom by her side, she had been checked not only by the doctor but also by the resident and even some interns—all of them, one after the other, sticking their fingers up her vagina.

Spoiler alert: it was because of my grandfather that she hadn’t gotten pregnant, yet he was the one refusing to see a doctor while she underwent multiple invasive and useless tests.

When I saw her again, just a couple of weeks ago, she briefly recounted the story—with less detail, of course, due to her age and condition. It was then that an image came to my mind: that of my great-grandmother holding her daughter’s hand as she went through that tortuous process, both unable to do anything. I wonder if she was mad at my grandfather for making her daughter go through that process. Or, maybe, true to the times and her Roman Catholic upbringing, she was hoping something could be done to help her 25-year-old and spare her the shame of being a childless woman.

But, more than anything, this story got me thinking about how we, as women, as mothers, sacrifice our daughters at the altar of patriarchy all too often. Not only do we fail to shield our daughters from beliefs and traditions that have harmed us, there are times when we’re all too willing to transmit those ideas and ensure that our daughters follow them. And that can be for different reasons.

Sometimes, as mothers, we make sure that our daughters obey all the rules meant to make them “good” girls and women in the eyes of others, or even in the eyes of god. We pass it oftentimes as wanting to preserve our culture or wanting to follow religious precepts and ensure our daughter has a place in paradise. We limit the choices our daughters have and then make it look like what they “chose” was what they wanted when we didn’t give them that many options, to begin with. We create the false illusion of choice between what they may want and disobeying god.

Sometimes, however, mothers may seek to protect their daughters by teaching them to conform—sticking with the devil you know. I think about what would’ve happened if great-grandma had protested what was happening to her daughter—if she saw it as a problem, to begin with, and not the actual cost of being a woman. What would’ve happened if she had told great-grandpa that she disagreed with what their daughter’s husband was doing? My great-grandfather, religious as he was, probably would never have allowed such disrespect against the head of his daughter’s household. Who knows what the consequences would have been if she’d dared to question the way things were supposed to work?

Such behavior of submission, of unconditional acceptance of one’s fate, would in turn be passed on to my mom. There were times in my mom’s life when she could’ve used someone to tell her that enough was enough, where she needed someone to give her the little push needed to make a decision that would get her out of painful situations. But, instead, there was my grandma, telling her that she should be patient, wait, and pray. There was my grandma holding her daughter’s hand as she sacrificed her at that same altar where she had been sacrificed years ago, just for being a woman.

Even today, I see it all too frequently. I’ve met moms who tell their daughters to stay in unhealthy relationships or relationships where they’re simply not happy anymore. I’ve met moms who cover up their daughters' shoulders and legs since they are little because, in their own words, “as they grow up it becomes harder to convince them to cover up.” Those same moms later portray it as a choice when their daughters claim to feel uncomfortable wearing shorts for PE or leotards for dance when that’s only the result of the limited choices they were given. I’ve met moms who still tell their daughters their value lies in their virginity and then subsequently in how many men they sleep with. Those mothers will also avoid talking to their daughters about sexual health, even things as basic as periods, for fear that it might “corrupt” them, without thinking about what that taboo surrounding sexuality could mean in a woman’s life.

The week that I spent in Colombia, although short, allowed me to look back at the women in my family, four generations from my grandmother to my daughter and niece. I couldn’t help but, first, be thankful that with time my mom was able to unlearn a lot of what she had been taught and in turn support us as we challenged a lot of our traditions and core beliefs. Also, and most importantly, as a mother myself, I decided to make sure that I don’t perpetuate any of these behaviors or ideas. That means questioning everything, including culture, religion, and, of course, what my mom, and the women that came before her, taught us. It is hard work, true, but it needs to be done. Let this be the generation of women that stop sacrificing our girls.