My book project is something on daughterhood, working on new language and ways to understand myself (and maybe for others to understand themselves) in a family not always in relation to mothers; or, if we were once daughters to our mother but aren’t any longer, and our parents are still alive, then what do we become? Who are we and how are both of these identities “true” and to whom?
Maybe this footnote comes in the preface, which may be a bit of a disclaimer.
Daughter: a child in relation to her parent/s. Can she stop this when she wants? If she needs? Where is the acknowledgment of time in my title–how I cannot be the same daughter I was when I was born now that I have grown up? Daughter fits too tight, won’t let me wiggle. I am interested in daughterhood untethered: like who am I familially when not always in relation? Liminal daughter but my mother* has never been okay with an in between that she did not define.
*I actually have two parents, a mother and a father**. But father, you will notice, is silent here. Not even implied. His absence as a presence that I am not sure how to elaborate on. If daughterhood is, to a degree, taught, then I never learned the part about relating to my father. Was he supposed to show me/was I supposed to ask? My mother was and is domineering. When I was growing up this was comforting in a way, welcome. How she knew it all, but warmly. Or I used to understand it as such but can do so no longer–now what to make of a past narrative that no longer feels true? re-envision but then what, or how rather?
**I started calling him this facetiously from a young age, but I think subconsciously I was always implying a distance, a formalness between us but dressing it up in jest. My memories of him (he is alive still, yes) are cooking steak in the kitchen, watching Law and Order in their bedroom, which my mother looked down upon, him in the hospital in fourth grade, me refusing to visit, my mother telling me this was okay, this was normal, of course honey do what is comfortable.
the stars are footnotes, sorry I’m not sure how to format in this post.
This is so profoundly raw, Sarah, and I am both grateful to you for trusting us AND unsettled at the notion of “commenting” on what feels to me like a piece of your heart…
Last week, we both acknowledged in these posts that we struggle with. the question of knowing ourselves or others in the absence of an origin story. Your footnote or preface (or whatever it becomes) sits so perfectly next to Davis’ story this week. She is SUCH a daughter, a comfortable, tethered daughter to both parents. I am, too, and – like Davis – I feel anchored to the universe by it. After Hollywood’s Eve, I wanted to feel like I was cool enough not to look for origin stories, but reading both Davis and your footnote this week confirmed for me that I’m not! I am eager to read your work one day.
The nested footnotes are really interesting. They create layers, emotional ones–raw ones, like Karen pointed out. “I actually had two parents” is a great hook. Why is this news?, it compels us to ask. I wanted to know more, and I got it.