Remembering Toni Morrison: What I learned About Motherhood From Toni Morrison
“She loved us that much, my dear sisters, that she gave us the language, she gave us the love, she gave us a way of looking at ourselves...”
What I Learned from Toni Morrison About Motherhood
Today marks one-year since Toni Morrison, mother, writer, lover, sister, friend, and much more made her transition to ancestor. With a total of 88 years on Mother Earth, she shared with us her gift (necessity is what she called it) of writing or ‘doin’ language’ and glimpses into her motherhood. Her stories gave Black women worldwide our humanity. Our worthiness. A motherhood defined by us. Mama Toni laid out a path filled with lessons of the past and present, care, and space for many Black women, including myself to surrender and be our best selves. I was introduced to Toni Morrison and her work by my sophomore English literature teacher, Ms. Summers, who gifted me her well-loved copy of Beloved after she learned of about my love for urban fiction and aspirations to be a writer. 13 years later when I think about motherhood, Black motherhood -- it is Toni Morrison and my mother who come to mind. A lesson I learned from them (Toni from her writing and being my mother’s daughter): Choosing to love myself and my children means providing a space where we can be ourselves without the persecution and judgement of society. A space where the critiques of my motherhood comes from those who depend on are impacted by it the most, my children.
What Impact has Toni Morrison had on my motherhood and relationship with my mother?
There was no accomplishment or positive characteristic above my mother’s critique or ‘suggestion.’ I learned later she too had a mother who critiqued heavily. ‘Maybe if you ate smaller portions.’ ‘That’s too much makeup.’ ‘If you toned your midsection, you’d be in good shape!’ I knew my mother meant well, she was just trying to help. However, those suggestions critiques were hard blows to my self-esteem and my confidence. Consequently, playing a significant role in my relationship with myself and my children.
It was Mama Toni’s work — essays, interviews, and novels that served as facilitator between myself, my mother’s behavior, and my mother. A few months before her death, a sister-friend sent over the clip of Toni explaining the impact a mother’s critical face and behavior can have on a child’s self-esteem and worth. “When your child enters the room, does your face light up…You think your affection and your deep love is on display because you’re caring for them. It’s not. When they see you, they see the critical face. What’s wrong now?” Mama Toni gave me language to understand my mother. She gave me insight to why mother and her mother, my grandmother often had critiques. For them, living in the deeply racist and sexist south required constant grooming and looking presentable. Because in those times (even now), a hair out of place made Black children and Black women ineligible of a childhood for Black children and womanhood for Black women. I felt relief knowing this is a trait many mothers believe are crucial to raising successful children. I also felt troubled knowing the impact of those critiques makes us susceptible to more harm, especially those we love and want to be loved by. Mama Toni confirmed what I always knew to be true in my heart; I sought from my mother validation as a source of her joy. I needed to know I was not just another obligation, another mouth to feed, another thing to be managed. I re-watched the clip several times, a few times, weeping as she spoke. Mama Toni called me in as a child and mother.
Prior to establishing a boundary with my mother, I noticed I took on the behavior of a mother with critiques. These critiques like my mother’s, resulted in shame and hurt-filled responses from my daughters. One day after I snapped at my youngest daughter, I looked in her face, and I saw the same face I had many years before standing in front of my mother “I know that look and I felt that hurt from my mother’s behavior before too.” It was painful to acknowledge my children were exposed to the same shame and hurt I felt as a child. Their faces revealed the feelings in their heart; disappointment and hurt. Even when my behavior posed a threat to their humanity, they still showed the feelings in their heart. Something I needed to see in a mother-daughter relationship.
It would be 19 years after Toni and Oprah’s discussion aired and 10 years later that I, well into my adulthood went on to explain to my mother the impact of her critiques. I shared how the comments she made directed at my physical appearance and worth affected how I connected with my children. I set my boundary with my mother and I have learned to take a deep breath, smile and welcome my children with open arms. Because our relationship is priceless, and connection is the only thing strong enough to support challenge and change for all parties involved. And because no critique or misunderstanding is worth severing the relationship I have with my children. Or with my mother who is willing to shift her mothering at 60+ and finds so many ways to connect with us individually and when unsure steps back to watch me. And vice versa. And if I am not present in my initial embrace with my children, I make sure to circle back and QUICKLY. I give myself grace because I know that I am unlearning a behavior passed down through the last four generations of my maternal line. I extend this grace to my mother too because we are working together to end this trait passed down to us. My mother remains intentional in celebrating whenever I, my siblings or any of her grandchildren walk into the room.
My mother and I decided the critical face no longer serve us well. Because my children are worthy of knowing and experiencing the love I have for them in my heart. Because I deserve to know the love my mother holds for me in her heart. None of this, I fear would have been done if I never met Toni Morrison and her work which gives Black women visibility even when faced with otherwise.
In honor of the late, great Toni Morrison. Who loved us all that much.