A Marching Myth of My Maternal Mothers
In the wake of IWD I have been reflecting on a myth that has plagued my matrilineal line.
My spiritual learning has granted me the ‘knowing’ that mothers and fathers from both maternal and paternal linage conspire in assisting us, while in our human experience, to close current ancestral wounds. Ancestral wounds are rooted and build momentum through internalised cultural conditioning, often manifesting as inherited trauma. Our ancestors observe and cheer us on from the grandstands across the veil, offering their greater perspective as one. We need only choose to seek and listen to their guidance in closing our own aspect of ancestral wounds.
Today, March 11, marks 58 years since my maternal grandmother, Betty Rita passed, one week before I was born. March 23 marks 4 years since my mother Sandra, Betty Rita’s daughter, passed.
Two weeks ago I visited Betty Rita’s grave with my cousin, as per her request. She was seeking to fill gaps in her knowledge of our grandmother’s story which I have come to refer to as the ‘Myth of Betty Rita.’ You see, Betty Rita has been proffered as a ‘rotten apple’, tales perpetuated by patriarchal lines. My cousin’s knowledge of our grandmother was confined to the paternalistic voyeurism of authority and entitlement she was fed in her childhood.
It is not necessary to elaborate on Betty Rita’s story. It is not a story for judgement; derisiveness; defending. Her story, like all the others that have preceded all of us, are there for our subsequent learning, albeit our choosing. It is our choice as adults to garner the guiding love of our ancestors; to work consciously with ourselves; to close wounds; - for all of us, for ‘our’ children.
In a New Year correspondence with a caretaker of the Myth of Betty Rita, I concluded:
So, l would like the ‘story’ of Betty Rita to expand in the minds and mouths of the tellers; to include all the good that surrounded her; so that her troubles may be framed more broadly; in the context of the times; without judgement; rather immersed with compassion. With respect.
So, thank you Betty Rita, for being the glue to connect the ‘daughters’ of your line.
Much love,
Simone