understanding my roots: a reflection on my abusive mother

abstract: i am tired of dragging around this expired baggage, my skeletons coming with me everywhere and me almost proudly displaying them to everyone as if my trauma is my identity. (spoiler alert, it is not) content includes an abusive mother and a reflection/review of the things she did that were repressed that have resurfaced because the floodgates are open and i deserve to live an unfettered life.

growing up, i wasn't really asked about what i felt about things, what i thought about things, or what i wanted. i wasn't considered an autonomous, thinking, feeling, respected human being, by the folks that were supposed to cultivate, and nurture me into an upstanding individual (which i became, wholly from the love and compassion poured in from other adults in my life). instead, i was conditioned and groomed essentially into an emotional support human (think, ESA but a child instead of an animal, even though my sister does sometimes equate my behavior to that of a feral animal…mostly lovingly) by the person who was supposed to be my mother, but simply went through the motions of what she thought mothers did (with a whole lot of extra bullshit).

i gave my mother the benefit of the doubt for as long as i could remember, making excuses that she didn't know better, that she grew up in a different time (her words), that things were different and that's why she held her archaic, conservative (i used to refer to them as "traditional"? whatever i thought that meant.) viewpoints.

she actually, i am realizing retro-actively, was simply manipulative, insecure, and selfish. she put herself first, didn't know how to share, was passive aggressive & self absorbed, and threw tantrums often, and loudly. she made her feelings, everyone's problem, and only knew how to criticize and judge those around her. she was jealous of the fact i made friends and was welcomed by the familys of my friends, i speculate that she was both in fear that somehow they would "steal" me away (projection?) and of course insecure that they could provide what she lacked, which was flavor and also kindness&compassion&tenderness&empathy&care. they treated me like a human, asked me what i wanted, respected my verbalized needs, desires, and shared what they had. she used to make snide, passive comments whenever i would express having a good time with other people. this is just a teensy glimpse into the atrocities she committed, but one of the more poignant memories is the way in which she drove a wedge between my sister and me. she could not stand to be Othered by her own children, and would make comments about how we were 'ganging up on her' whenever we would talk just the two of us, and did her darndest (and succeeded) in feeding me the lies that it was my LITTLE SISTER's fault that my mother and father argued all the time (spoiler alert, it was not). because she was in a position of power and authority (controlled whether or not we had food, or the illusion of safety [it was never truly safe in our house, there was no sense of privacy, or respect for others boundaries. she was always barging in, always accusing us of keeping secrets from her, not being subtle about looking through and reading our things, and then saying that it was justified 'since we never shared anything with her when she asked'] and i realize that i chose what felt like the path of least resistance which was to simply meet her needs to the best of my ability, which came at the cost of my reality, as well as my relationship with my sister AND father, which i am grateful she was gracious enough to still extend to me after years of neglect and abuse. (thank you, rachel. forever grateful for your mercy and understanding that i was a product of our fucked up environment, and simply not mentally as strong as you.)

she ALSO, more painfully - i realized, weaponized the information she did learn about me, most poignantly and heinously, my good nature. there is one event during my formative years, that i remember vividly:

context: i used to take money from my mom's purse because she never kept track of it, and she also never gave us money for the school store in elementary school. naturally, seeing other kids with the autonomy and freedom to buy things, made me feel left out, and even more different than i already did (only adopted kid in my classes); so i took matters into my own hand. this went on for a few months, but once i took money from my grandmother (she'd left about $27 and some change on the table, and i swiped it), i think that was the tipping point. my conscious kept me up, i laid awake in bed, feeling like a sinner, feeling like i was an awful, terrible human being. i woke my mother up in the middle of the night, crying, and confessed to my transgression, on the conditions that she would not tell my father (because fear, and because love. i think even then, i valued his love more, a concept that bell hooks very intuitively covers in all about love, regarding the scarcity of a father's love making it a more valuable commodity) - which she agreed to, and then did anyway.

what this instance did, was tell her that i was an honest kid, who valued their integrity. one may even say i was a god fearing fellow.

she reverse-psychologied me into never speaking ill about her.

she would make comments whenever i spent time outside of the home, to verify that i didn't talk about her, by saying "i bet you talked about me" or "i'm sure you were bad mouthing me" or any variation of the sort. this accusation would hurt, and i would always deny it, and in order for me to deny it, it had to be true. this lead to the programming of my silence, my own personal repression of what went on behind closed doors. i never spoke of the things she did, the way she made me feel, i didn't think about her, or talk about her to anyone (especially my sister). i put it all in a box, i turned that off, she didn't exist outside of anything, she was just 'my mother' and that was that.

i am livid.

i did not realize this until i was 24 years old, and wondering why and how i am the way i am.

i did not realize this until i stopped jumping at her beck and call.

i did not realize this until countless relationships later, in which i have been used, consistently and exploitatively, as everyone's free therapist (since i became incredibly intuitive and understanding of how to rationalize the actions and reactions of those around me, whether directly or vicariously through a recounting of a situation.) people would often say that i was 'mature' for my age, but it was simply born out of necessity.

i never had a mother. i had a kidnapper (she never made it a point to make me feel chinese, to instill a sense of pride in my culture, my heritage, she did not educate herself on China, or cook chinese food, or immerse me in spaces where i would be surrounded by people who looked like me. i think the most that she did was maybe buy a couple books, and even those were gifted and never followed up on. she asked ONCE if we wanted to go to chinese school, but waged war with my sister when she refused to go to Hebrew school.), i had a task master (she would gripe and groan that we didn't help around the house, but i refused to do any housework, especially after 3rd grade and finally seeing text book images of people who looked like me, being brutalized by people who looked like her AND whenever we did do the chores she asked us to, she would never express gratitude or pride in the job well done, only dissatisfaction about how 'it'd be nice if we did it all the time' and 'they'd be happy if it became a habit' - excuse me, she was a STAY AT HOME mother, why did she need her children who were away at school all day, to help her with what she had 7 hours to do? at least that much made sense to me.), i had a bully (when i was younger and did share my stories and adventures, she would express bitterness and jealousy, thinly veiled, and even when i got older, she would consistently make comments about how the other places were 'clearly better than being at home' etc. and when i was growing up and naturally had questions about the world, she wouldn't make it a point to try and find the answers, she was a 'because i said so, leave it at that' kind of parent, she was a 'say anything to get the questions to stop' kind of parent, SHE WAS THE FIRST PERSON TO HYPERSEXUALIZE ME, AND BODY SHAME ME AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME. 'it's a good thing you have big breasts, boys love those.' she would poke me, she would tell me i'm getting chubby, she would tell me that it was "indecent of me to parade around naked [in shorter shorts than she was comfy with] with a man in the house" - THE MAN IN QUESTION WAS MY FATHER, she was cruel, and mean, and hateful), i had a client (she always emotionally dumped, only operating from feeling and not fact, projecting her fears and insecurities about everything, onto anyone who would listen. she owes me thousands for the hours spent validating her silly, skewed reality.), but mostly…i had someone i needed to take care of, not visa versa. my needs were never met by this woman, my desires, never considered, my personhood, not even once thought about. i was a prop in her life, a commodity, a resource. she was trying to prove her mother wrong (her mother told her she'd be a terrible mother) and unfortunately i don't think she did. (she knows better than to ask my sister ha)

this felt so so so so freeing to let go of. to inscribe virtually in my space, in a space i can return to, in a place i can scream into the void, and for others to visit if they so choose, and to release it from my heart and soul.

and here's the rationalization y'know:

she was raised by two holocaust refugees. her mother left austria at 16 years old, never saw her family again. she was a seamstress. my grandfather, norbert (whose name keeps popping up, i got my 2nd dose of mpv from a lovely RN named norbu, and i got this beautiful aluminum jewelry piece from a norberto i feel like i am being watched over by my sweet grandfather who i fed cheerios to in a nursing home) was a dentist, and they met at a dance coordinated by the government for people from their village back in austria. they raised my mom, in the bronx (a couple blocks away from the bronx zoo) before moving to a house in glen oaks. she had a dog growing up, and wished she had the opportunity to be immersed in judaism (but because her parents had been persecuted for their faith, they understandably wanted nothing to do with it…that's how trauma works.) in school, she learned german, in attempts to be closer to her parents, but they did not speak the language once in america (assimilation! they immigrated here in the 30's when there was lots of xenophobia, as well as anti-semitism) either. she longed to pursue art, but was persuaded to get a 'practical' job instead. she became a secretary, despite her degree in psychology from york college. (see, this realization is what made the understanding that she intentionally said and did the things she did when raising us…). i understand that the world changes at rates that are hard to keep up with, and that once she left work to be a stay at home mother, her access to the world felt limited…no one limited her but herself. no one told her she couldn't have friends or go out or do things in the time that we were all out living our own lives. no one stopped her. she complained about not doing things, but in elementary school she was involved! she was part of parent teacher conference and volunteered in the library and was engaged. once we got to middle school…things changed? or perhaps it was because when she broke her ankles, our lives stopped and we had to center her, and so she enjoyed that feeling and wanted to hold onto it? who knows. she doesn't.

i think the most, THE absolute most frustrating part of this, is that she refuses to take any accountability for what she's done. she claims to not remember, she claims that she doesn't know what she did to hurt us. but i don't know if i trust her. she's only 68…and perhaps she has forgotten. perhaps it's conveniently tucked away. she's always been pretty scattered, which is another reason it was so easy to rationalize her behavior. feigned incompetence is such a convenient exuse.

anyway this is a declaration.

i'm not going to make this everyones problem, because i am not her.

i am not going to continue to suffer, because of her.

i am not going to make the same mistakes i have been, because i am learning, and unlearning her hateful programming.

i don't know what i want our relationship to look like, if i want there to be one at all. i don't believe that she deserves one, but i have always been benevolent, and i am a loving, caring, extraordinary human being despite the odds that have been stacked against me. i am a slow learner, but people around me have been so patient and so kind and i am so supported by the people who truly see me, continually uplift me, and have poured into what i was raised to believe was a broken cup, but now understand is a beautiful fountain.

to everyone who has helped me, past (Mrs. Dunbar [the first person to call me Jules!!! <3] Caroline and Christina [both of you], and Alex) and present (so many people to list, its late pls be understanding). to those who have recently given me the tools or slivers of observation for me to get to this point, for rachel who has not given up on MY potential and helped to find us a home…somewhere to call a safe space, somewhere to be proud of…for helping housetrain this feral animal (; and andrew for being their Person through four years of our crazy family,

to the friends who have listened to me, and taught me, provided me sanctuary when i've been in need (anees) and grounded me (jenny) and never given up (scar and lucas and naresha and julia and lila), to the ones new and old. to the chosen family that has shown me i don't have anything to be ashamed of being my full authentic self (qween, lexii and jay and aletheia and kammy, and brenna and rah and linda and ascen and pilar and this list is expanding always…i love my People)

to the strangers who became comrades who are my Community - who have extended compassion and kindness without the need for reciprocation, out of the goodness of their hearts.

to my cohort, who compassionately held space for me for 10 months, watching me slowly bloom and make peace with my faith in ways i never thought possible. (and everyone i met along the way!)

and a special thank you to scooter - who has been unbelievably patient and proud of my growth throughout their entire time knowing me…thank you, friend.

thank you for being my compasses, my life boats, my anchors. for being my parachutes and my emergency exits, but most most most powerfully, for making sure your oxygen masks are on first, before helping me find mine…

with a gratitude i hope i can convey within this lifetime.

xo jules

thank u to jay for taking this picture, featuring a sign that applies to every situation (but also very much the pizza place debacle haha) love u bro