Not My Mother’s Daughter

Today is Mama’s birthday. I’ve written a few articles and blog posts (and one atrocious poem) about her over the years but each one always seems hollow or superfluous or just problematic in some way that I can’t quite pinpoint. So I try again and again. Here’s yet another attempt.

She’s the bravest and strongest person I know.

She climbed mountains and crossed rivers to provide basic healthcare to remote communities. She faced off with politicians, military men, communist and Muslim rebels, and run-of-the-mill bandits just to do her job.

She was my real-life example of feminism long before the concept became cool in college. She taught me about condoms and contraceptive pills when I was in grade school, long before the heated debates over the Reproductive Health bill.

I’m the daughter of a confident, determined and passionate woman but as a child, I often wished for a different mother.
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