My story is not that different than a lot of other kids. Something goes wrong. Something happens that is not supposed to happen. The world as you know it is gone one day and it feels as though it and your heart have turned inside out. No one’s mom dies when you were 11 years old, or so I thought. But mine did. She was 39. This just can’t be I remember feeling. How would we make it without her?

She was the glue that held our family together. Everything worked because of her. Her care and love were irreplaceable.  She arranged everything in our family. She got us where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. She created our memories, holidays, birthday parties, play dates, study times, and breakfast, lunch and dinner. She loved us unconditionally and it was clear her family was everything to her. And then one day she and all traces of normalcy were gone.

I felt as though I was on my own even though I had a loving father and three siblings. We helped each other as best we could. Our father worked all day, 7 days a week. He just didn’t know how to be a dad at home. He was committed to being the bread earner before and after my mother’s death and never really migrated from that place, even though his children needed him in many other ways.  This led me to believe men were available for some things and women for others. We needed both, yet one side of the equation would be lost forever.

Without my strong and loving mother, I began to see the world very differently. The rules of the game seemed very different now. Maleness seemed to be getting much more attention; toughness to the point of insensitivity, competition and physical strength. They all seemed to matter more than anything else. Female qualities, like empathy, compassion and kindness, began to feel of less value. So I toughened up and pretended to be less effected by things, cool and casual when deep down, the feelings were there without a safe place to express them or my true self.

My first year in college in another country was a mixture of excitement, independence and adventure until the night I was raped. He was an American and captain of the basketball team. I did nothing about it and even remember saying hello to him a day or so later. This single event and my response to it would continue to shape my feelings, fears, anger, and choices for the next 30 years.

I continued to face violence in my life, sexual discrimination, challenging relationships and finances even after earning an MBA and a six-figure salary. Life and the world didn’t make sense for me in many ways which fueled my anger and fear, and left me feeling unsafe almost everywhere.

As I look back, I feel my father was limited in what he was able to give his family, particularly when we needed care and attention.  He was brought up to do, more than he was brought up to feel. I wonder how it felt for him, needing to be the provider, yet unable to provide what his children so desperately needed.

Women on the other hand are raised to feel and are oftentimes deprived of the means to do. I believe my mother, a highly intelligent woman and strong leader, would have enjoyed  a successful career along with motherhood, yet I’m not so sure she would have pursued one given social pressures of her time.  Our limiting gender identities exist still today and are like two sides of a coin; a coin that holds little value compared to its potential.

Compounding the problem, maleness too often means you also disdain and denigrate the qualities of femaleness. In that place we will continue to create havoc, violence and chaos in the world.  The day little boys are raised to value themselves as sensitive, caring creatures of the world and women are valued, honored and respected by both men and women, is the day the world will be safe, abundant for all and self-sustaining.

I hope that day comes soon. So many other stories depend on it.

GenderWise icircle – December 1, 2009

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