I have two mothers. They tell their stories, they dream for me different dreams, strange women, strange memories.
I have two daughters, two stories of my own. I have my own babies, I have my own wishes, my own hopes. Did I do better, did I do what I wanted to?
I have a man, another man, there’s always a man….he has sons. What is a son? I have too many fathers, I never wanted a son. What would I do with such a thing?
I would teach him, I think. I would demand from him excellence. I would push him to be a better man than the men he sees around him. I would say no to almost everything and yes to all of it. I would tell him the truth: women are worse but we get away with everything. I would tell him he is a born man and that is a noble thing. I would teach him to be a man who could be a father to women.
But, I have no sons. I have daughters. I have to hope the mothers of sons don’t break them before they meet my babies. I have to hope there are women who love men raising up sons who aren’t broken.
I have to believe that the broken promises have been unbroken for my girls. I have to believe these women will see the value in keeping the promises made to me. The mothers of the sons I didn’t have are the keepers, the unbreakers, the unforsakers. I want to believe in you, mothers. I want so much to believe I can trust you to raise men for my daughters. I want to believe you made men who love women.
I want to believe I would do better. I hope you will do better. My daughters deserve so much better.