(1)Tears of Joy and Happiness, (2)Tears of Pain and Rage, (3)Tears of Grief and Sorrow: Permanent pigment ink jet alcohol transfers on antique hankies belonging to my grandmother.
There is an old photograph that I treasure, a photo from when my son was a tiny baby, only a few weeks old. In the image he is laying in the middle of a queen-sized bed surrounded by women. My grandmother, mother, aunt, sister, and I sat in a circle around him trying to console him. The event came after he had been crying for what felt like hours. Like many new mothers, I was exhausted and I too began to cry. But I also felt relieved to have so many women with me. They offered support, they gave me comfort, and they took over for a while to give me rest.
I look back on my life and see the influence of many strong-willed, capable women. Each of them has seen me at my worst; crying loudly with puffy, red eyes, snot all over my face, and mascara running down my cheeks. Each has also celebrated with me when I was at my best, crying happy tears. They saw me laughing, snorting, spewing my drink out of my nose and mouth. Throughout my life they have always just been there. And it has been in those moments of tears that I found the shared experiences that bound me to them.
I look back on my life and see the influence of many strong-willed, capable women. Each of them has seen me at my worst; crying loudly with puffy, red eyes, snot all over my face, and mascara running down my cheeks. Each has also celebrated with me when I was at my best, crying happy tears. They saw me laughing, snorting, spewing my drink out of my nose and mouth. Throughout my life they have always just been there. And it has been in those moments of tears that I found the shared experiences that bound me to them.