ME

It took generations but we rediscovered our magic and finally broke free.

Together we rewrote our stories.

My maternal grandmother: Maria Estela

My maternal grandmother is a matriarch; she is the eldest of 12. Responsibility weighed down on her from an early age. As the eldest it was her duty to raise many of her siblings. At the age of 10 she was told that she was not smart enough for school despite really wanting to pursue further studies. She never felt a calling for the ‘womanly’ careers she was steered toward- hairdresser, dressmaker. At a young age she fell in love and married- not by the church, as she would have liked. She raised her 5 children and ran a family grocery store for over 20 years, on top of putting up with a cheating husband. She would leave her husband many times even though they never officially separated. At the age of 55 she chose looking after her sick daughter over her husband, leaving him in another country.  She came back to care for him on his dying days. From my grandmother I learned unconditional love, sacrifice, strength in the face of adversity, and faith.

We sit across from each other on the dining hall table in her mobile home. The dining table is actually patio furniture- glass, round, and ill fitting indoors. The chairs are falling apart. They are not cute or comfortable. I feel the heaviness she still carries- even after all these years- as she stands over the stove flipping the tortillas, asking me what else I want with my food, asking if she can heat up water for my tea and moving to do it before I answer. There is rarely silence between us. We always have something witty to say to each other. All of our lives we have shared intimate spaces. We know and respond to each other’s humor. We also know what buttons to push on each other- how to sting, which is why when we get into hard conversations it’s always intentional. We both know the time has come. She begins, “I failed the test to enter middle school and my father told me it was because I was stupid and not made for school.” I can tell the memory is vivid. I can tell it buried deep inside her psyche and has not abandoned her. She is 72 years old. We spread our wings and fly there. I sit next to a 10-year old girl as she cries. I tell her: “He’s wrong. He doesn’t know any better and you are most brilliant. You are destined for greatness and will achieve anything you set your mind to.” I embrace her, plant a kiss on her forehead.

The spell leaves her lips as if of its own will, charting a different course:

I am smart and capable

I will retake this test

And I will pass

Schools will open their doors and be lucky to have me

Not again will I doubt in my abilities

Not again will I let a man hold me back

The next thing I know we are back at her dining table. The ground grumbles as she steps around. “We had planned to get married.” She tells me. “He didn’t show up the first time.” She remembers. “He claims his friends basically kidnapped him at his bachelor party.” She doesn’t believe him. I take her there- to the day of the wedding that never was. I find a young lady- still, but shattered. I tell her she has the power to rein him in. I tell her she deserves the world.  

She recites the spell from ancient memory:

You will be an impotent man

You lack the ability to be a responsible father so no kids you will have

You will bow at my feet

And work every day of your life to provide for me

You will never cheat

Maria Estela: with her husband as an anchor instead of burden she started an empire. She opened a chain of grocery stores at a young age and did not have to work another day in her life. She put herself through school. Felt the calling to sing and became a famous singer. She never stopped believing in herself. She thrived and because of her many other women thrived. I, her eldest granddaughter, was never born in this dimension.

Back in her kitchen we sit in silence. There is no warmer feeling than sharing a cup of tea with your grandmother.

My paternal grandmother: Maria Elena

I know my paternal grandmother through her relationship with my grandfather. I always knew them together. It was not until I became an adult that I learned she was not the first wife. It was as an adult that I heard their meeting story as more problematic than romantic. That I realized my grandma’s adoration for my grandpa - who passed away 8 years ago-, had been so intense it burned through all the other relationships in her life. He became her world and she grew tall vines to keep others out of their castle. My dad became a part of that fortress and when he was old enough to become an alcoholic abuser she chose to have his back - more than once. She scorned the women who dared stand up to his abuse.

I sit next to her in the luxury of her living room in an apartment that has changed little over the past 20 years. Tidy, expensive, and petite. There is a deep silence between us. I wonder if when she sees me she is reminded of the pain of our estrangement. We spent 8 years apart after my mom left my dad and fled the country with us. I sit with grandma and we watch show after show on television, sharing laughs and exchanging shallow commentary until the moment arrives. She shares, “He used to work at the building across from mine. Both buildings were all glass and he had a set of binoculars. He would watch me and try to catch me as I left the office. I remember vividly one time how he came out, as I was about to get in a car with a male co-worker I had agreed to grab coffee with. Your grandfather, he came flying down his own building to catch me before we got in the car. So valiant.” We transition there. A young and sexy version of the woman I know as my grandmother is standing in between two men, both of whom feel they can possess her. She wears a mini-skirt, a big hair-do and a full face of makeup. I whisper in her ear: “He is stalking you. His behavior is not normal. You should be able to have coffee with whomever you choose and not be under constant surveillance.”

She is startled at first but as she snaps out of it delivers the spell with confidence:

This woman is not yours

This woman makes her own path

This woman blurs your binoculars

And rejects your advances

You may walk beside me

And woo me

But you will not own me

We are back on her couch. A mirror covers the entire wall behind us. “She is crazy I cannot forgive her. How dare she call the cops on your father? Make his life so difficult with all these false accusations.” My father had finally been called out on his domestic violence; the police were involved for the first time. It had really messed up their work situation, as they were stationed abroad by the US government. We travel to the phone call he first made to her after the incident. I remind her she knows her son more that she’d like to admit. That he is an alcoholic and she knows it. I ask her what she would have done in the face of a violent man and two young kids in the house?

She shivers as she declares her spell:

My son, you are wrong

You know I have always sided with you

After you abused your first wife I stayed quiet

I condemned her too

But you are too grown for this and I too wise not to tell you that you are in the wrong

I declare you sober and kind

May you never exert violence again

In that moment I heard chains breaking.  

Maria Elena: She set the terms of her relationships. She traveled the whole world and developed infinite friendships with men and women. She had a son and when she first heard of him mistreating a woman she rained hell down on him. He never drank or raised his voice at a woman ever again. My father never abused my mom and I never left Mexico in this dimension.

Another one? She asks. And we watch another show.

My mother: Blanca Estela

My mom is intelligent. Growing up she was one of five kids, but the only girl. Her mom put her brothers’ care in her hands. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without her brothers. For this reason she fell in love and married very young. She finished her architecture degree and gave birth to two babies. From her I’ve learned femininity, I’ve learned devotion to a passion, and I’ve learned strength. My mom also sacrificed a lot for us. And from her I learned vulnerability. For all the times she fell in love, seeking in men what she couldn’t find within herself because this society didn’t teach her that she was complete all by herself. My mom experienced domestic violence at the hands of my alcoholic father. When she gathered the strength to leave him he threatened to kill her and her kids (my brother and I). This fear and the impossible situation she found herself in led her to a mental breakdown and triggered her mental illness. She was diagnosed bipolar at the age of 33.

I sat in my brother’s kitchen across from my mother. She was busy writing and dreaming up big plans. I both loved and hated her when she hit the highs of her illness. I looked at her long, thin fingers, much like mine. I looked at her bright lipstick on her barely existing lips and at the green eye shadow that matched her green dress. The bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. She started, “Pick up after all of your siblings, and feed them, help them with their homework it was all too much for me. I didn’t enjoy my childhood or my teenage years, started working too soon. I felt imprisoned inside the walls of my home and the family grocery store I worked so hard in.” We go there. She is young and radiant and tired. I say to her: “You can say no. You can rebel against the patriarchal rules governing your life. You don’t have to feel guilty about doing things for yourself. About searching for your own meaning.”

The spell comes to her in waves; she struggles through it at first but hits every word:

Today I cease the martyrdom

My brothers will learn responsibility

I will find love in friendship

I will learn that I don’t need a man to be happy

I will learn that I complete myself

To my mother I say

Allow me to pave my own path

Like you once sought to pave for yourself

We are back in my brother’s kitchen. She continues, “I wanted to leave him, I planned to. He threatened to kill me along with you and your brother and I was so afraid. I was terrified. I couldn’t sleep for months, I felt myself losing grasp with reality.” We go back to that big house where it all went down. She is terrified. “Mom, he is lying. He doesn’t have the strength to kill anyone. He is deadly afraid of you leaving him but you can be sure that he will not harm you. His threats are empty just like his apologies after every drinking session. Leave him.”

She spells:

Love you promised me

Harm you delivered

We could have built a beautiful life together

But you chose to indulge your addiction

Safe passage to my children and I

Into our new life

Banished you are

Blanca- she finished her career, started excelling as an architect. She won Architect of the Year. Started a new industry that focused on supporting women architects and paired up with non-profit construction firms to provide homes to the indigent. She started her own firm and spent half of their resources doing pro-bono work. She started an institute to give people the skills to design and build their own homes. She had a kid later in life and her husband was a stay at home dad.

“I am proud of you mom,” I tell her. She smiles.

Me: Najla Angelica

I am my mom and grandmother’s wildest dreams.

Every time I challenge preconceived notions of women’s worth in this society outside of a patriarchal relationship, all four of us win.

I am re-shaping what it means to be a woman. I am carving boundaries and making space for myself. I am re-charting a path.

From my mother and grandmothers I’ve learned courage and devotion. I have learned responsibility and commitment. They have shown me what it means to love unconditionally.

From their strength I gained my powers, my spell goes something like this:

I will not make sacrifices at the expense of my own well-being

I will not diminish my needs or put myself in harm’s way to appease others

I will shout my truth and be proud of who I am and why I do what I do

I will deal with the trauma I carry from my childhood and teenage years

I will seek help

I will build a community of support so tall and strong that it will not be toppled or overshadowed

My mom and grandmothers laid the foundation

And together we will reach the sky