(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 image that I treasure, a photo from when my son was a tiny baby, only a few weeks old. In the photo 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 on the bed trying to console him. The moment 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 somehow, in that moment, I also felt relieved to have those women there. 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 women. I've been very lucky that way. Each of them have seen me at my worst. Crying loudly with puffy, red eyes, snot all over my face, mascara running down my cheeks. They also celebrated with me when I was at my best, crying happy tears. Laughing, snorting, spewing my drink out of my nose and mouth. Women have been there. Always there. And all of these moments of tears have been the times that have bound us.