Central to where we are rooted is how we were planted. The kernels of who we are - equal parts cells and memories - are created by our parents' mythic status. There's a moment you realize that they aren't just here to feed, clothe, sooth, and entertain. They are humans with cracks, wounds, and fuck ups? Yes, honey.
My mom didn't know she was pregnant with me until almost the second trimester. Despite being an MD, body awareness was clearly not imparted to her during her medical residency. She thought she had a gall bladder infection. That "gall bladder" nausea was me. My mom stands tall in her quirks and sometimes she's a hot mess. I cloak myself in the swagger she taught me. And sometimes I'm a hot mess, too.
I did not learn athletics from her. Like her, I did not play sports as a child. Like her, I was the straight A kid. She literally didn't own a pair of sneakers until she was in her 40s, and they were a Mother's Day gift from my sister and I. We carefully selected K Swiss tennis shoes with flowers on them (can you even deal?). Beaming, I hand them to my mom who does what any mother would - feign joy and wear them for one day. Fast forward two decades later and I'm an ultramarathon-cycling-obsessed former lawyer and my mom runs 5Ks and cycles with me at Peloton. She is change in motion. She is literally, the mother of reinvention. Separately, we made ourselves athletes. Separately, we were confronted with the fragility of the human form - she handling MS and me managing Type One Diabetes.
Peel away the layers of my story and a central truth remains - I am my mother's daughter. My spine is stronger because of her fallacies. There is a tipping point as we grow when the veil is lifted and we see our parents as superheroes with human fallacy. Every superhero has the small part of them that keeps them relatable. At 34 I see a woman who emigrated from Cuba, put herself through medical school, worked her ass off, is loyal to a fault, and owns mistakes and scars as armor. Yes, there's majesty in the nuance and light through the cracks.
It is through this lifted veil that I stay firmly planted because I know my fractured truth is still beautiful, as she is. True power is the flexibility to sway knowing the lineage of your roots run so deep that you are energetically fixed. Through direct instruction and osmosis I learned that you can create yourself into whomever the hell you want. And sometimes you're going to be a hot mess along the way.
Reaping resilience and an appreciation for oddity, profundity, and kitsch - my mother taught me to stand in my space, immovable by other people's ignorance yet swayed by compassion and acceptance. She was brave enough to be real in a world full of masks, so I could take mine off, leave law, and put on a pair of running shoes. I just had to grow up to see it with open eyes and a bad ass heart. Dear, mama.
(Photo L-R: Sophia Chang - UNDO Magazine Art Director, Yen Li Lo - Sophia's mother, Carmen Angelo - Robin's mother, Robin Arzon - UNDO Co-Founder, Nai Vasha - UNDO Co-Founder, Barbara Diane - Nai Vasha's mother. Photos by Christelle De Castro. Story pulled from UNDO magazine, issue 4. )
