a guide to asian mum chaos & care
issue 76 ♡ the immigrant asian mum is a laugh & a half, a basket full of food & tom foolery & fictional drama and love pouring from every part of their soles
dear doris. what is your mum doing? love liz the looker, the universe.
dearest liz the looker,
this weeks post is an ode to my mum.
she has never read any of my posts here—nor will she read this.
she glazes over when i show her an article or publication i have appeared in. she has no idea what i have done, do or am attempting to accomplish— and she doesn’t even pretend to care #majorCBF. she cares mainly about two things— that i have enough to eat and that i have enough money to survive.
it’s only in the last couple weeks, as spring transitioned into summer, that i have begun to truly see the light in her so-called lack-of-care-air and her lackadaisical mulberry tinged hair.
in part I i tune into my higher self to download a deeper understanding of my mum and the uneducated asian immigrant woman’s experience. in part II i share a channeled message to my mum and her higher self— expressing words in a language and literacy that we do not share or communicate in the physical world.
part I.
the immigrant asian mum is a laugh and a half, a basket full of food and tom foolery and fictional drama and love pouring from every part of their soles/souls. their feet are hard from the hard life given to newcomers, fresh off the boat or plane wings of desire, hoping and striving to make a better life for themselves in a new hostile country— and it is exactly that, a host(ile) in disguise welcoming you with open arms at the gate and then closing off the armistice and armed embrace before you’ve stepped foot on these golden shores.
an immigrant story is an age-old one, for as long as humans could walk across land bridges and swim across channels, to see over yonder and ponder what over there can offer for their famiglia. the fresh off the boat are generally eager and hungry (literally and figuratively) and will take what they can get.
the immigrant story is the same dog, different leg, across the seas. they seek to provide a better future for their offspring and for themselves. the immigrant knows what is imminent— survival and working hard to secure means of a house, a well-thatched roof over their heads.
they seek education for their kids, so that they don’t endure in the same physical capacity and monotony that they do/did. they seek to rise above their birth station and to prove to their fore-bearers and fathers, that they made it, that they found gold much like the gold-rush era and the droves of seekers across the globe— hoping and striving and conniving to strike it rich with gold or oil.
these days the immigrant story is less potent or lesser relevant, as we will begin to move seamlessly across the globe and in a way become less identifiable by our nations and skin colour . the so-called future will not judge on your social class or skin condition, it will be based on a more soulful merit of love, aptitude to learn, grow, change evolve and also a pre-condition to love mother gaia and to do her no harm.
part II.
i love you mama. i truly do. i loved you before and will love you again. my life came from you and from you— also sprung my children and in turn, their children and so forth. to love you, is to know you and until now, i have not understood you or even wanted to know you.
your indifference and so-called neglect was a learned behaviour of many millennia, many marriages and many matriarchs who were disposed of their own feminine powers and sought ways to exist by hiding ones truth and ‘weak-willed’ behaviours, by not showing affection and attention to their offspring— in a way to show that they could register control and contort their bound feet and feelings, disallowing them and you a freedom that did not exist through erroneous eras.
please know, i love you mama— and your mama beyond and beyond and beyond her and the mothers line from which i have sprung. thank you for the food that we ate and that you provided for my nourishment. thank you for showing your love through food and affection through favours.
i wished for day where i could see you entirely and only now am i beginning to see your lightness of being and your generosity and good will and graciousness to sharing what you have with others, just as your mama taught you to do and just as i teach my daughter to be— and see that the world and what she provides, is to be shared.
what is your mum doing?
[mum is pottering around the house, ignoring all the guests before whipping out a huge bag of candy to give all the kids. and then, she’s throwing herself unceremoniously on the kids bed looking at tiktok and calling her friends— blasting cantonese on speakerphone. and then she is shuffling over to the neighbours yard to steal mulberries from their tree (because they will go to waste). and then, she is leaving without saying goodbye]
she’s doing whatever (the f**k) she wants.
love d xx
♡
ps. related posts you may enjoy :)
I love this essay - I'm sure one day my kids' careers and choices will baffle me too but I'll always want to feed them...
once a mother, always a feeder :)