Word to My Mother--on Mother's Day

This year my Mom turned 60. She is a high school principal and has worked within the same county public school system for about 25 years. Her close friends from different points throughout her career, held a birthday brunch for her several months ago, and I was flattered that I was invited to attend. I had probably been introduced to some of the women at some point in the past, but didn’t know them well. I enjoyed getting to know them, and I could see why they were all friends with my Mom—they were very smart, successful, funny and personable. Not surprisingly, and not that I minded, the conversation often turned towards past times of working together—funny anecdotes and challenging experiences. They shared their professional journeys and obstacles they overcame to hold the positions they hold today. Some of them shared obstalces such as inappropriate advances from male superiors or co-workers and how they handled sexual harassment in a time where they had little power to combat it. Even though sexual harassment was part of the 1964 Civil Rights Act, sexual harassment litigation didn’t take off until the late 80’s, and not really part of the social consciousness until the 90’s.

That afternoon with my Mom’s friends enabled me to see my Mom in a new light. It hit me that it was my mother’s generation who was responsible for some of the social change that we take for granted today. I had always viewed my mother as a pioneer—one who was thrust back into the workforce after my parents’ divorce, and who built a successful career and earning her doctorate while balancing the demands of four children, and then three more when she and my stepfather blended their families. But I had never even considered how historical and social events would have affected and perhaps impeded her.

Later, as I was recalling my thoughts about this to her, she talked about other types of social change. How she spent most of her childhood in Long Island, New York, but her parents would often drive the family down to Florida to visit relatives there. She remembers her father preparing her and her brothers about how blacks are treated and how they should be sure to use the designated “white” bathroom while in the South. She recalled driving down I-95 down to Florida and seeing shack after shack built alongside the highway where blacks would live. She recounted how concerned her parents were about buying their home in a place where she and her brothers could attend the “white” schools (even though schools were integrated, there was still self-segregation). And how when her parents were readying their house to sell before moving to Utah, they worried that a black family would want to buy it, which would bring down the home values of their neighbors’ homes. Why had I not ever known this? I always knew that my Grandparents had a spark of racism—it’s generational, of course. And then I thought about how my Mom has worked tirelessly throughout her life to educate children, black and white. And to elevate the performance, test scores and self-confidence of many disadvantaged minorities. She works closely with minority communities to address problems their youth are facing and how to help them succeed. She loves her students intently--regardless of their background or ethnicity.

It's clear my mom left the biases and preconceived notions that pervaded her upbringing and has been a force for change. I’m honored she is my mother and hope that I can be a similar force for positive social change for my daughters.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.