On Mother-Daughterhood: A Letter to My Goddaughters

My dearest Yanna, Lia, Soph, Lishi, and Mayari,

My mother was a very stern disciplinarian. Her eyes spoke a thousand words, and her screams conveyed what her eyes couldn’t. It was unambiguous when she was upset, and I dared not cross that line for (the ungrounded) fear of being put up for adoption.

She didn’t believe in idle time. She enrolled me in class after extra-curricular class — ballet, piano, organ, recorder, folk dance, acting, voice, tennis, gymnastics, horseback riding, cooking, baking, art. Name it, I took it. I wasn’t particularly passionate about any of the classes, but I diligently attended. At 8, I was busier than the Pope. I never objected.

Whenever she and Dad traveled, she left household management to me. By the age of 11, I handled a decent amount of cash, managed the marketing budget, did the groceries, and doled out staff salaries. I did as I was told. I never grumbled about it.

She governed my early-teenage social life, allowing me to attend 1 out of every 2 or 3 high school soirees to ‘give the boys a chance to miss me’. She dragged me to her parties to meet her friends’ sons. And yet, she was adamant about avoiding exclusive relationships because “you should be collecting for as long as you can!” [side note: patay tayo diyan.]. I generally complied.

My mom and I giggle about it now. I tell her, I need to see a therapist for mother-related trauma issues. She says, I don’t doubt it. You see, I was Mom’s first girl. (Like all of you, uncannily, are.) She was learning how to be a mother to a daughter as my childhood unfolded. And I, simultaneously, was learning how to keep her happy through obedience (most first daughters fall into this trap apparently).

My dear goddaughters, your relationship with your mothers is the most important emotional building block you will have. Its yield will go deeeep and looong affecting most of what you do into adulthood. So, it is imperative to mold it as consciously as you can.  With the benefit of hindsight, this would be my counsel:

Being a dutiful and obedient daughter will serve you well. It will prime you to earn good grades; foster a good work ethic; and learn responsibility, restraint, and discipline, all of which will form a solid foundation as an adult. With these, you will get into good schools, score some awards, land good jobs, most probably find good husbands. All well and good.

BUT BUT BUT here’s the thing. Many of the things that will really matter later in your lives, the great things, will require a certain bravery that is, unfortunately, not cultivated by being dutiful and obedient. Grander undertakings of pursuing happiness or accomplishing groundbreaking work require going against the grain, against what is popular, what is common.  Studying philosophy instead of medicine, calling off an engagement, standing up for a cause, proposing new ways of doing things, disrupting an old industry — all these require the fortitude to face dissenting opinions from parents, a partner, a boss, a moneyed lobby group; and the composure to keep on keeping on despite these. So, dear ones, while it is early, start getting comfortable with disapproval.  I recommend sometimes stepping away from the security of excessive deference, and acting based on authenticity without regard to popularity.

Aaaaall this to say, my dear goddaughters, I urge you to color outside the lines more often. Swim without sunscreen. Spit out that god-awful cod liver oil. Stay a little longer on Netflix. Leave food on your plate. Get that nose ring. Write a letter to your future goddaughters encouraging them to be naughty.

Sure you’ll be scolded. Sometimes big time. But if you are convinced it is what you need to do, and you can stand behind your actions, do it. And know that whatever it is you decide to do or not do, you will always always be loved.

Love,
Ninang

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