Warrior Woman

It’s been a few years since we said our last goodbye. You were a bit confused about where you were when you woke up in the middle of the night, so I reminded you that you were staying by your daughter in Long Island. Your stark white hair a lovely contrast to your beautiful brown skin, told the tale of a long life well lived.

Last Friday you crossed my mind again and I began reflecting on the memories I had long buried in the hustle and bustle of life. Memories of your deep accented voice unabashedly speaking your mind, with wit and feistiness. There was never a need to ensure that everyone acknowledged your uncontested role as matriarch of the family, it was simply understood.

I remember in high school taking the greyhound bus up to Brooklyn, NY just to spend time in your presence. You would tell me about our rich family history and why it was important to hold my head up high despite the adversity. You explained that we had the distinction of being descended from the Maroons. Our ancestors rose up and revolted against the cruel oppression of the slaveholding British colonists. Escaping into terrain that most resembled the topography and climate of West Africa, they declared their independence and maintained it. “You come from warrior stock,” you would tell me, “never forget that.”

A tomboy like me growing up, I remember hearing about your adventures as a young girl. I smiled thinking about the story of you riding your horse bareback. Always a daredevil pushing the limits, you would ride as fast as you could, so you could slide off the horse’s neck onto the hill in front as it dipped down into the gulley on the way to your house. You were fierce.

Perhaps this is why your older brother was so strict with you. He clearly never understood you, as he tried to reel in your adventurous spirit. Taking the father figure role a bit too serious when your dad passed away, he must have seen you as an incredible challenge to get under control. However, you never allowed him to break your spirit, though he tried with a cruelty you never forgot.

It took great courage to set out to change your circumstances, by leaving Jamaica with your family in tow. How difficult life must have been to leave behind everything and everyone you knew to start anew in a foreign country with three young children. Did you foresee the trajectory this decision would place upon your life and that of your children? Did your faith sustain you when you wondered about the future? Courage, strength, and faith in the Creator were always very prominent in your outlook on life for as long as I can remember. Your strong sense of spirituality was instilled in your children growing up, and it carried over to the next generation.

Your strength was demonstrated in how you so gracefully handled harsh disappointments. You gave selflessly expecting nothing in return. I sometimes wonder how many times you cried yourself to sleep at night struggling with the bitter pain of betrayal and heartbreak? How did you weather the storm conjured by selfish men who were supposed to love and protect you ‘until death do you part.’ Love can be so cruel and disheartening when taken for granted, but you told me that holding onto bitterness is like drinking poison expecting the other person to die. You taught me the importance of living a full life, and not letting fear of the unknown steal a rich future on the verge of blooming.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever fully realized the impact you would have on your future generations. I wonder if you ever really knew how beloved you truly are. If I could go back in time, I would make sure I said ‘I love you’ more often. I would make sure you always knew how much you were appreciated, and the influence you had on my life. I would make sure I always told you that you are a fearless warrior woman.