A Mother’s Agonizing Confession
She is sitting at the foot of her daughter’s bed, watching the gradual rise and fall of her breath. The moonlight pierces across the curtain, creating stripes across the girl’s skin like prison bars. The mother’s hands begin to shake. She’s committed a crime that’s unforgivable.
In the evening, she earlier that evening, she had called her daughter dumb. But not in the casual, angry manner that parents do. The word had been sharpened with a knife before sliding it across the ribs of her child. The girl’s face was a mess. The tears poured out, but they did not go away. Good. Good.
The mother’s stomach is rumbling in shame, but beneath it is something more sinister was brewing: a twisted, sick relief. Perhaps now she’ll take on the situation.
This is the deal she has struck with herself: To save her daughter from the patriarchy, she will be the temporary pawn of the patriarchy. She has to cause enough harm to cause her to be a rebel.
The question is gnawing at her during quiet evenings: Has she become the very thing she promised to be rid of?
The Paradox of Breaking Cycles
There’s a certain type of terror when you realize how the best way to liberate oneself from a system is first to make them feel its burden. This mother knows the rules her daughter must follow, the same one she adhered to herself.
- Be Sweet
- Be patient
- Reduce until you vanish
She was one of the “good girls.” The one who sucked up her anger and smiled at the slightest interruption and who allowed people to explain things that she was already aware of. At the point she realized that she was dying, it was already for her to know it was too late.
Now, she is looking at her daughter strong, beautiful and unbroken. She asks herself: How do I help her become angered when the world teaches her to be scared?
The answer, as she is afraid, is violence.
The Moral Horror of Necessary Violence
The mother’s method is deliberate and calculated. She stifles praise when the public would freely give it. She criticizes her daughter’s appearance and manner of dressing, not to avoid the insults; however, she is aware that the world will throw them at any time. Better to get it directly from me.
Her daughter’s eyes become more swollen. Watch her become distrustful of kindness. Watches her build-up armor in determination.
Do you think this is love? Or is it a case of abuse that is disguised as salvation?
The line between them is much thinner than she had imagined.
Psychologically, it’s an example of inoculation theory exposing people to a weaker version of poison to ensure they can survive the actual thing. However, emotions aren’t viruses. The heart of a child isn’t an experiment.
What if instead of strengthening her daughter, she’s just instructing children that love and affection are conditional? The fact that violence is inevitable? The people who claim to be protecting her are also the ones who harm her the most.
The hands of the mother shake as they write in their journal.
“I am doing this to save you. But what if, in keeping you, I lose you? “
The Ghosts of Inherited Pain
It’s not only about one mother or daughter. It’s about the generations of women who tried – and failed to stop the cycle.
Many mothers drown their daughters in a protective environment, leaving them powerless. Some leave them wild, believing that resilience is the result of being able to endure suffering. This mother has decided to take another path: controlled demolition.
She’s not gentle. She isn’t able to afford to be.
However, in the darkest of moments, she thinks: Am I just another victim of patriarchy who is instructing my daughter that she has to suffer to prove herself worthy?
The irony is awe-inspiring.
Rebellion or Ruin?
A few years later, the daughter – now a woman, sits across from her mother in an eatery. She was strong when her mother was soft and loud when her mother was calm. She has built a life of determination.
“Thank you,” she tells her.
The mother stops freezing. Why?
“For making me hate you enough never to become you.”
The words are a sharp knife. The mother sucks in blood while smiling.
It was the plan, Wasn’t it?
However, as she watches her daughter walk away, her mother gives her a moment of insanity. She tries to press a finger on her mouth. She doesn’t make a sound.
In the depths of your soul, the girl’s heart, she weeps for the two of them.
The Unforgivable and the Unavoidable
There isn’t a perfect way to break down oppression. There is no moral rigor when fighting against the systems that are designed to destroy you.
The mother’s decision is a scourge. It may also be important.
The cost is hidden in the scars each carries.
The daughter is not able to fully trust her mother.
The mother is not able to fully be able to forgive herself.
And what about patriarchy?
It sits in silence as women destroy each other to escape.
This cycle goes on.
It’s not exactly how it was intended.