03 -- The Plate Under the Mattress

In-between life is when you are going through the pain of birth and at the same time trying to play a game of fanķiki. What you are birthing is yourself. And the game of fanķiki is you trying to be present in the daily life of careless mundane tasks and maybe even laughing at a joke.

the laughing is hard. i catch myself feeling weird doing it — so rare are those moments. the rest of the time i am pressed to look into the eye of all the residue, the residue of me who learned to survive but whose survival guidebook is no use to me anymore.

in the movie The Favourite by Yorgos Lanthimos, Queen Anne of England is suffering from gout. Gout is a form of inflammatory arthritis caused by a build-up of uric acid in the blood. When uric acid levels get too high, it crystallises and deposits in joints — most famously the big toe, but also ankles, knees, wrists, fingers. Those crystals are sharp and needle-like, and the immune system attacks them, causing severe pain so immense that sometimes there is an inability to bear any weight or even tolerate a bedsheet touching the area. The in between life is just like that, unbearable, and the crystals are residue from the life before. everything hurts, all the time.

everything hurts, all the time.

write what you know, i was told once. my picture of manhood and partnerships between male and female is breaking apart. living in late stage capitalism with rage against patriarchy — and what that has caused me and still causes me as a female — it’s defragmenting my brain as I write this.

i come from a family where the male was centred, his wife centred him and still centres him higher than her daughters, and the daughters are not sons as the centred male had always wanted. the male rage was present though not explicit daily — but there were outbursts. i remember one occasion when dishes got broken and 14 year old me is hiding that broken plate under her mattress, calming the male parent even though he should be calming her.

i don’t want to be that 14 year old anymore. but how do i do it. can the survival self finally be retired? is it safe to not be her anymore? is it foolish to dream it can be done? Happy Mother’s Day to every daughter who tried to advocate for herself and got hit with “I guess I’m just the worst mother in the world.” Happy Mother’s Day to the Eldest Daughter who was supposed to be born a son. Happy Mother’s Day to a human being who mothered herself.