I Am Becoming My Mother

October 30, 2003
by Ayanna Gillian
Self Empowerment Learning Fraternity, Trinidad and Tobago

The URL of this article is:
www.rootswomen.com/ayanna/articles/04112003.html


Yellow/brown woman
fingers smelling always of onions
My mother raises rare blooms
and waters them with tea
her birth waters sang like rivers
my mother is now me
My mother had a linen dress
the colour of the sky
and stored lace and damask
tablecloths
to pull shame out of her eye.
I am becoming my mother
brown/yellow woman
fingers smelling always of onions.
-- Lorna Goodison (b. 1947)


"It is hard to write about my own mother.
Whatever I do write, it is my story I am telling,
my version of the past"
-- Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born

y mother's story is my own, as my grandmother's story is hers, as her mother's was hers. We are an unbreakable, inviolate line of memory. More than a line, more like a web. For each story breaks and branches and merges with the threads of the others, until our collective narrative becomes like the rich, brown earthy underside of history.

I have long realized that in the end, we all become our mothers, however, I never realized just how important that was. For it is in our symbolic 'becoming' of our female ancestors, that we pass on their legacies and become testimonies to their lives and experiences. The stories that are passed down through the generations help to form a chain of history, our history as women. Although we all have had different experiences, the telling and the sharing of these stories makes us all a part of something greater than our individual experiences.

This is a story of four generations of women in my family, from my great-great grandmother Prudence, her daughter Lily, my grandmother Yolande, and my mother Gale. I am their collective voice; a combination of the memories they passed down and the snippets of conversations I picked up over the years. The telling of stories has always been important to us, as a means of entertainment as well as keeping traditions and our history alive.

While I will deal with the way my ancestors' concepts of gender have shaped and constructed their realities, I have chosen to focus more on their passing on of stories, experiences and legacies. It is these legacies, just as much as the external social factors that affect and shape the lives of the women in the subsequent generations. It is their stories, experiences and most importantly, the fact that my 'mothers' thought enough of these experiences to engage in their telling, that has shaped my existence today.


Stories my mother told me...

My mother speaks of my great-grandmother as if she knew her, even though she died many years before her birth. "Garma was something else, yes," she says to me with a smile. Garma was what they all called her, a child's mispronunciation of the word grandma before they were old enough to properly frame the word. For the rest of her life this is what she was called.

"What was her name though, her real name?" I asked my mother. " Name? I can't remember! That was all they ever called her. She was jus Garma"

Her name was Prudence Richards. During the late 1800's she left the island of Bequia and migrated to Trinidad in search of a better life, bringing with her, her first daughter Lily.In this she was not unique. The end of apprenticeship signaled a wave of inter-island migration between former slaves and free blacks. Many people moved around in search of job opportunities and the almost elusive hope of purchasing land. However, what differentiated my great-grandmother from the teeming pool of migrants was not only was she female, but she was alone. She had chosen not to marry and left the father of her daughter behind in Bequia and went search of work. A very tall, physically strong black woman, she worked in the oil fields and cooked for the men that worked there to make extra money. Garma valued her economic independence. A devout spiritual Baptist, she worked, she prayed and most importantly she saved. She always said that she didn't want any man to 'rule her' and tell her how to spend her own money. This strident opinion from a woman in the late 1800's was indeed an anomaly.

Although she may be seen as a pioneer in her time for taking this bold step alone, her position was not that rare in the Caribbean at that time. In a region that as yet had no real identity except as a European colony, there was not a permanently fixed ' role of women' in West Indian society among the black population. Although my great, great grandmother may have been an extraordinary woman of her time given her social and economic circumstances, there were other women who also had to take drastic measures to ensure their survival and that of their children.

One of these women was Mary. She had come to Trinidad from Barbados under similar circumstances as Garma. The bond that they created during those trying times was one that endured throughout Garma's life and after her death. Ms Mary remained with the family up until the time of my mother and became a strong influence on her as well.

Garma's daughter Lily married Eliot Kellar, an upper middle class businessman from the fast growing, and urban Belmont area in the capital city. Both his children and grandchildren called him Pal, another nickname borne out of a child's mispronunciation of the two words, Pa Elliot. This union produced 7 children, the fourth of which was my grandmother Yolande.

Pal adored his wife Lily. She was beautiful, poised and had a husband and children who were determined to give her the best. One of the most vivid memories my grandmother has of her own mother was being allowed to shine her shoes until she could see her own face reflected in their blackness in preparation for their traditional Sunday evening stroll around the Queen's Park Savannah. While giving birth to her seventh child at the age of 30, Lily died leaving her children, mother and husband behind. This was a fate shared by many women in this time, a result of a high birth rate and poor natal care. My grandmother was seven years old. To this day each of Lily's seven children recall seeing their mother's spirit at different intervals in the house through out their childhood. It was as is if she could never leave them until she knew that had grown up safely.

My grandmother's upbringing was then left to her father, Elliot, Garma and Ms Mary. Yolande was Pal's favourite child and he made no pretense of hiding it. While he loved all his children, Yolande had a spark and fire that made her father take notice of her in a time when it was a rare thing for a father to take any real notice of a younger daughter. It seems from her birth there was something special in her that was instantly perceived. She was to be baptized and named 'Royal', a name chosen for her by Garma. But on the morning of her baptism the priest intervened, stating that it was a pagan name and would produce a child of an evil nature. Her name was changed probably minutes before her christening, to Yolande. Not usually one to lament about the past, she still wonders whether she was denied a different destiny, cheated by this faceless priest.

Garma was a great influence on Yolande's young life. Although Garma could not read or write, she had Yolande read to her every day and always encouraged her to learn her lessons which she would then have to recite. In a time where it was almost unheard of for a woman to own property independent of a man, Garma owned her own little house on the same street as her daughter. She encouraged young Yolande to always 'have what is yours'. It was a lesson she never forgot. Garma died when Yolande was twelve years old but her legacy remained strong.

As an adolescent and teenager Yolande was given free reign and was never denied any opportunity by her father because of her sex. She was a strong-willed, opinionated, bright child who was the eldest of three younger brothers; she was their ringleader, guardian and protector. In the schoolyard of Tranquility Government School, Yolande Keller was feared by all and sundry. If anyone dared to do injury to any of her siblings she would tear into the schoolyard and demand of her crying little brother "Show me the boy!" and they would be dealt with swiftly and unceremoniously. Her fighting skills were renowned as her brothers would testify, and neither her father nor Garma ever chastised her for her behavior. In fact they encouraged it.

Yolande was also encouraged to excel academically. While many of her peers were sent to school only up to the primary level it was Garma who paid Yolande's school fees to attend secondary school. The economic circumstances of her family allowed Yolande to take advantages of opportunities that many other young girls of her era did not. Her great love of books and learning has been passed on to her granddaughter and also to subsequent generations of women. I have spent many an evening listening to Yolande recite poetry that she learned in school as a child of eight. At 78 my grandmother still has a phenomenal memory.

The death of her mother and strong relationship with her father, her privileged economic circumstances and a personality and will that would not be gainsaid all combined to create a woman who wanted to have it all. She was bored by the entertainment of her older sisters who would discuss marriage and sit inside, preferring instead the company of her brothers. The Kellars were children who were sent to the cinema every Saturday evening, a luxury that many Trinidadians could only dream of at the time. She was accustomed to relative wealth and comfort. Although they were no stranger hard times they were in a better economic position than most. I believe this was one of the most important factors that shaped her into the type of woman that she was to become. Although her household and larger society was still intensely patriarchal and her father remained the ruling voice in the home she was never restrained, never reigned in and was allowed to let her own personality and abilities flourish. Instead of being frowned upon her headstrong nature was encouraged and rewarded.

The same attitude was to prevail when Yolande had her own family. She married Albert Granderson when she was 23 years old, uncommonly late for a woman in that time. By the time she was married in the 1940's she one of the growing class of women who worked in the government services, as teachers, clerks, nurses and typists. The Granderson family had two solid incomes, which was rare in those times, and owned two vehicles, which was even more so. My mother Gale was born in 1949 the eldest of four children that would follow.

The 1940's to 1950's were the years of steel band riots, cultural resurgence and arguably the golden era of calypso. Gale remembers vividly the bloody, violent clashes between steel bands at Carnival, seeing her aunts covered in mud and paint from head to foot playing devil mas on Jouvert morning, the fearless and respected jammettes and flag women of the day, and the war of words between Lord Kitchener and the 'young upstart' The Mighty Sparrow. Brass bands and pan round de neck sides were the main source of music during carnival time and the Carnival Queens competition had not yet seen a black entrant.

Trinidad was also still a colony of the crown. Most school children still did not own shoes to go to school, and everyone still sang " God Save the Queen" and stood at attention to the Union Jack in deference to the colonial power. Secondary schools were few, and those that existed were private and reserved for the elite. It was the children of this era that would go on to become some of the greatest thinkers, scholars and politicians in the history of our country.

When asked to tell of the earliest impression or memory that my mother had of her own mother, she replied instantly, "Her creativity and imagination". Yolande was always able to make her children laugh and regaled them with stories of her childhood escapades. She placed great pride in her home and surroundings and had, according to mummy, one of the first real flower gardens in Garnett Lane. Her ability to make something out of nothing allowed her to create a green space in the midst of small concrete yards. She inherited from Lily her love of fine things and loved to travel and shop and decorate her house. Gale recalls an incident where her mother came home with a rug for her living room, which cost $100.00, a fortune in those days, and everyone would come by and try to guess how much it cost. " Ms Mary guessed $5.00 " Mummy mused, " I guess to her that was the largest fortune she could think of."

As the eldest daughter my mother was the example to her younger siblings and like her mother the one they came to when trouble arose at school, in the street, or anywhere else for that matter. She recalls vividly being taught to box by an older cousin, a skill that held her in great stead during what could prove to be a perilous walking journey from their home on Garnett lane to Tranquility government primary school. It seemed as though the violence of the steel band riots transferred into every aspects of society for, as my mother was to learn, anything was an excuse for a fight. At this time the class divisions within the black community became even more marked. There was a growing black middle-class in Trinidad and an increasingly disgruntled black underclass. Clashes between the two were frequent and Gale like her mother before her could definitely hold her own.

As in the Kellar home that her mother grew up in, the Grandersons also placed little restrictions on their children on the basis of sex. There was never a question of the girls doing housework and the boys being exempted, or of Yolande serving her husband his dinner. This however, according to my mother may have had little to do with feminism or women's rights. Because their economic circumstances allowed them to have a maid at all times, Gale declared, "I was never accustomed to seeing my mother serve anyone. That was the maid's job" She finds it difficult to determine whether there would have been any distinction had their economic circumstances been different. When Yolande was a child her family also had domestic help, so the division of labour was not an issue in either generation.

When asked what she thought was expected of her by her parents when she was growing up, the reply was that she was supposed to excel academically, be successful in everything she attempted, speak properly, maintain good manners and listen to her parents. We both laughed at this because these were indeed the same things that I believed that my mother always expected of me when I was a child. Within this growing middle class black community the focus on education in all in spheres had reached its zenith. Everyone who could afford to send their children to school was doing so. There was a clear belief that education was the means of social advancement. Books like 'Miguel Street' by Sir V.S Naipaul and 'Salt' by Earl Lovelace also note this of the time. My mother attended Tranquility Government Primary School, as did her mother. At the age of ten she 'won an exhibition', as the mechanism for moving to secondary school was called in those days, to attend Bishop Anstey High School. She excelled both academically and in extra curricular activities.

Yolande insisted that all her children would take piano lessons. It is in this period of my mother's life that that other women around her began to play a larger role in her development as a young woman. Ms Mary taught my mother to crotchet. It was skill she believed that young accomplished young women should possess. While Gale may not have agreed with the reasoning behind it, she always enjoyed the hours spent in Ms. Mary's room weaving life out of thread. Piano lessons at the renowned Ms. Simmons instilled in Gale her love of culture and music, which endures to this day. While the wider society immersed her in the culture of Trinidad, Ms Simmons also gave her an appreciation on of Mozart, opera and classic art and literature.

In the 1960's the family moved out of Belmont to Diego Martin. This was proverbial wilderness for the children. The feminist movement that began to rise in the U.S at that time had little effect on my mother's life. She held the view, as did many West Indian women of the time, that it was a 'white' movement that did not speak to them and dealt with issues that did not affect them. Certainly, my mother had never felt oppressed by any man. "Besides," she says, " There were greater issues at stake at the time." The Black Power Movement of the 1960's and 1970's saw my mother, her sisters and many of their peers cutting off their relaxed hair into afros, dressing in dashikis and encouraging others to do the same. Her brothers and cousins all abandoned their given names and gave themselves African names that they still carry. Her time in university in Jamaica helped to reinforce this feeling of black pride.

My mother became a teacher after her return from Jamaica in 1974 and married my father Ronald Lloyd in 1979. I was born a year later. I have two impressions of my mother as a small child. The first is her singing old calypsos to me- as lullabies, as inducements to get me to eat my vegetables and as entertainment on our morning trips to school. While other children had ' Rock a Bye Baby or Ring Around the Roses, I had calypsos by the Roaring Lion, Kitchener and Lord Melody. From a very early age my mother developed in me a reverence for my own culture. She gave me an African name, as did many black families at that time as a symbol of pride in their heritage that had been denied them for so long.

I went to on to Bishop Anstey High School, as did my mother where I gained a reputation as being afrocentric and a 'crazy feminist'. That was the first time ever even heard the word feminist. Although the female members of my family probably always exhibited what people would call 'feminist' qualities, it was something that was simply a part of who they were, not a label or a movement that they had to proclaim.

My outlook on life has indeed heavily influenced by all the stories that I had been told of the women in my past by both my grandmother and my mother. In retrospect I think the defining thread through all of our lives has been that you determine your own destiny. While social conditions may influence the course your life will inevitably take, only you can determine what kind of person you want to be. I have never had a concept of what it meant to be a woman, per se. I simply knew what it meant to be human.

Without the passing on of these stories my life would have been poorer for it. When I think of the rich legacy I have been given I always remember words that my mother said to me when I was seventeen years old. To this day I still think that are the most beautiful and inspirational words that I have ever been told:

"Girl, your ancestors survived the fateful trip to the coast, the middle passage, survived slavery, colonialism and everything else that came with it. All that was the best in them now runs inside of you. You feel anything could defeat you in this world?"

I believe these words with an intensity I cannot begin to express. The lives and stories of the women that form the line of my birth have produced in me a formidable force. I am the manifestation of all their triumphs and struggles and I live in the hope of continuing the chain in my daughters to come.

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