Sunrise Creations


It’s All About Your Father I See…Did You Even Have a Mother

Its taken me until now to get to the telling of my stories with my mother.  I can hear her voice in my head right now. “Its all about your father I see…wtf …it’s like I wasn’t even there!! Did you have a mother??” Her outrage rings in my ears.

I certainly did have a mother and an incredibly powerful and capable mother at that.

Mother I have many stories I love to tell of you…I tell my friends, my chosen family, and I talk about you in my classes…I tell of your strength and your skill…you taught me so many many things…I tell of your fierce warrior spirit…fighting for Nana (or whoever you have chosen to champion).

You taught me by example to be an intensely creative, fiercely protective, and powerfully competent woman.

I know exactly how strong I am because you told me I was strong and you gave me tasks to prove it. You expected me to be capable and capable I am. I credit that primarily to you and your skills training.

I have been afraid to put into writing my stories and experiences with you Mother because I am afraid of telling your secrets. I am afraid of what the Friends or the Organization may do or say to you.

You were my first and strongest example of intelligence and dominance in a female body and that is against the rules of the Organization. Females are required, by God and the Society, to be submissive to males.

This means a female is never to argue or challenge a male about anything.

I heard you say I was going to have a hard time being appropriately submissive. I heard you say I am not submissive by nature. I heard your stories of Getting in Trouble for your own strong outspoken nature.

I remember watching you gleefully crawling around with the little old craftsman buddy you had doing an endless series of projects on the house.

I remember watching you John-Wayne-Mother and God-and-the-Father laughing and singing along with a Willie Nelson album while sitting on boards mounted as scaffolding between two wooden ladders. Lathe and plaster swirl across the ceiling while guitars and country twang wind their way thru the space.

Categories: Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.