Mothers and Daughters

Dear Felipe,

Whenever I think about the mother/daughter relationship, two songs always pop into my head. The first is “Passive Manipulation” by The White Stripes. If your not familiar with the song, the pertinent lyrics are:

 Women, listen to your mothers
Don't just succumb to the wishes of your brothers
Take a step back, take a look at one another
You need to know the difference...
Between a father and a lover

 The other is “Daughters” by John Mayer. A more embarrassing choice, but these things happen. Again, the relevant lyrics:

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Both of these songs assume that the main topic of conversation between mothers and daughters is men. Because what is more important than finding a husband and becoming a mother? Lots of things. This pisses me off so much because of its inherent sexism, but mostly because of it is a filthy lie. Yes, I occasionally talk about men with my mom, it would be impossible not to. But there is more to our relationship than that.

I call her when I’ve had a bad day at work, when I’ve had a good day at work, when I need to know how much money it is acceptable to spend on a bridal shower gift, when I’ve watched a movie she’ll like, when I’ve watched a movie she’ll hate, when I’ve had a fight with my roommate, when I’ve thought of a pun that’s particularly clever, when I’ve done something awesome, when I’ve done something shitty, when I’m happy, when I’m angry, when I’m sad, when I’m bored.

I talk to my mom a lot, and rarely do we discuss men. Imagine how boring that relationship would be, if you could only talk about one thing. I wish the media would stop portraying us this way. It makes me so mad I want to call my mom to tell her about it.

Love,

Gena

The Hold Steady's Separation Sunday

Dear Lindsey,

I suppose I should I tell you that I’ve never listened to the Hold Steady before, but I am listening to Separation Sunday as I write this to you.

This album is so American. If I owned a red convertible, I would be driving down the highway through the desert blasting this album, especially “Banging Camp.” You could join me on this road trip, I wouldn’t mind.

That’s just the beginning though. Me and my red convertible would drive to some small town 4^th of July festival, where the bands play outside downtown next to the one bridge across the river. On the 4^th of July everyone looks best is cutoff jeans and white tank tops, so that’s what I’m wearing.  It’s so hot out that no one can think about anything but warm beer, hot dogs, and fireworks.  The air is hot and humid, so thick I can feel the water molecules part for me as I move through the crowd.  

 

After the show, after the fireworks, the oppressive heat finally starts to fade.  I decide to leave this small town, go back to the city. The top’s still down on the convertible, I’m hoping to catch a stray breeze.

I can’t wait for summer.

Love,

Gena

p.s. Congratulations on being the first letter!