MY MAMA'S MAMA

My granny is someone who I see as my reflection in many ways. My decision to interview her comes from understanding the importance of preserving her unique contribution to the physical realm. I’ve watched her very closely since I was a little girl and now (as a woman) I am still blown away by her existence. Everyone loves their grandmother – but mine is just different. She’s badass. My granny is an extremely intelligent, unapologetic and resourceful woman. When I think of her, I think of someone who is indestructible. She reminds me of a blazing fire that takes the services to distinguish and births fear into the neighbors of the land. I know that my ferocity comes from her.

My grandmother has a way of turning tragedy into a miracle with poise and acceptance. There are so many stories I don’t know about her life and realities – yet her disposition tells all. My granny takes no shit. She was/is serious about her self-sustenance, her family, her home, her career and her pleasure. She is serious about God and living a life of quality.

 My fondest memories are taking baths in her bathroom – which felt much like a spa. She always had soaps, potions, sprays and fancy loofahs all around. Her bathroom is still this way. Her closet filled with the fanciest shoes, purses and dresses. Something I find interesting now – as an adult is the fact that she wasn’t stingy about any of these things. She shared the luxury of her life with us. Usually, kids are forbidden to play with or look at the “nice things”. My granny had an abundance of valuables, and I was allowed to inspect them all very closely. We gathered often. I can close my eyes and hear my mother cackling with her sisters as my granny had pots on the stove and a beverage in her hand. She makes everything gratifying and she gives everything life. Her abundance goes further than inanimate objects.

 My granny’s house was the headquarters for my family. I always felt safe and included. Her bedroom door was never closed, and she welcomed us sleeping with her – one of us or all of us. I had the pleasure of being raised around handfuls of cousins. We were all celebrated regardless of how old we were or what we looked like. She truly just made everything better with what seemed like minimal effort. I remember the way she considered and held space for everyone’s story and everyone’s tears. She’s an indulgent woman. She filled her own cup to the point of it running over. It always seemed like she had a lot to give everyone else and I (now) see how. I practice this same thing as I raise my son. I give myself the best – so that I can give him the best.  

Although my granny was generous and relaxed, she had high expectations. There were rules. You had to be respectful. We cleaned. We cleaned a lot. She believed in a tidy space. I remember being small enough to crawl under the coffee table with Windex and clean the bottom glass of the table. She examined after we cleaned and if she wasn’t impressed, she would promptly let us know. We were expected to play our part. She was so joyful when happy and then quickly a witch at a time of disapproval. Her range as a human astounded me then and now. My understanding of family is rich because of the conduction of her sanctuary.

 I don’t remember ever having a “grandpa” at my granny’s house. She was a black single mother and grandmother who didn’t seem to miss a beat. She worked HARD as a nurse and remains a point of contact when somebody is ill – her remedies cure. Her advice always works and saves you time in the ER. Male influences consisted of my cousins and uncles. She was loved and uplifted by the men in our family which allowed me to observe “masculine” care outside of a romantic gaze. She gained the love and respect from men who she inevitably inherited through her daughters as grandsons, son in laws, boyfriends or family friends. My granny was the type of person to take in and take care of people who were “in-between situations”. She’s one of those granny’s whose door is always open. People come stay at her house until they “get on their feet”. My granny will relieve you of shame in a situation where you were wrong and give you advice on overcoming. Her generosity is endless in that way.

She was and still is the queen. Although she is 83, she has the spirit of a 26-year-old woman. She is humorous and lively. She is unphased and ever evolving. When I read “Women Who Ran with Wolves” she is who I think of because of the way she creates her own narrative. She drank and she smoked. She danced and she laughed. She’s good at so many things and she doesn’t wait on anybody to compliment her. The confidence in the women on my mother’s side flows deeply because of her influence. I was complimented and affirmed by my cousins and aunts. There was no envy. Divine femininity was high.

She continues to show me what it looks like to be a multifaceted woman. Because of her I know that I can be soft and hardworking. I know that I can be desirable and professional. She has displayed how to balance both masculine and feminine energies. She is an open book so that we can learn from mistakes she’s made. She’s been an example of how to listen to my intuition and sort the genuine from the fraudulent. She has shown us the result of hard work which is creating the life you desire. Most importantly – she has given me a mother who is awe inspiring which drives me each day. To know that each generation should grab the baton and improve gives me the motivation to be all that I can in this lifetime.