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i will never know my mother

BY DILEN LEE

Growing up, I felt more aligned with my father. I wanted to do more of the things that he did – like fixing or building things – and spend more time with him. I thought that by doing the same things he did and liking the same things he liked, I would look more like a boy to others.

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I remember this one time when my dad, unnie, and I were out, and he told me to pick out a toy to get. I was eyeing this toy shed with tools, but after being told it was a “boy’s” toy, I chose a pink Barbie guitar. We never played with that

Because I had a lot of issues with my gender growing up, I tried to avoid things my mother wanted me to do. At some point, I stopped wearing the dresses and skirts she got me, and I didn’t like the feminine clothes she picked out for me. I started to actively go against the type of daughter she wanted me to be.

But by separating myself from my mother so much, I never got to know her as well.

I’ll never know the type of relationship my mother had with her own mother.

My grandmother passed away when I was very young, and I only have a few memories of her. I don’t know what type of person she was or how she treated her children when they were young and old.

After going to college, I feel that I’ve gotten closer to my mother. I’m more open about myself and say more things that are on my mind rather than holding back out of fear of how she would react – but it turns out we are quite similar in the way we think and see things.

The more time I spend with my mother and the more I feel like I know her, I realize how much time I’ve lost in getting to actually know her. I spent most of my adolescence pushing her away from me, thinking we were too different to truly understand each other.

Back then, I didn’t know how much of my mother’s daughter I am.

I only know my mother from the distance I kept myself from her. I observed her and made assumptions. I conspired with my father and sister. I never made an effort to understand her for herself.

Even now, I only know her from the assumptions I make from our conversations, my observations, and the bits and pieces of her life that I learn from my sister or father.

I will never truly know my mother because I’m scared to find out how similar we are.

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