Recently we celebrated International Women’s Day and whenever I think about the women I admire, one person stands out in my mind more than any woman that I know or those famous for their achievements: my late mother. And it’s not the sort of filial or affectionate admiration of a daughter who’s forever grateful for all the sacrifices that her parent has made in order to make sure she could have a bright and successful future either. You know, the sort of sentiment one reads on a Hallmark Mother’s Day card.
Rather it is a genuine admiration for a woman who taught me from an early age the importance of fulfilling one’s potentials and not to allow life to become a series of limiting choices. Lessons she taught not merely through words, but through her own actions. Moreover, this was in an era when social expectations on the role of women were much more pronounced and there were certainly a lot less opportunity for women to enjoy a rewarding career let alone juggle one with raising a family.
I suppose as mothers go she was not exactly the doting type who would put her child’s needs and comforts before her own and pamper her like many mothers would. Her style of child rearing was somewhere between absent-mindedness and a laissez-faire attitude mainly because she was always busy either working or having fun socializing with her friends and colleagues.
Not for her were little motherly gestures such as packing the children’s lunch boxes and making sure they eat their vegetables and brush their teeth before bedtime. Obviously being a mother to her did not necessarily mean adopting a motherly attitude and playing the stereotypical nurturing role. She was by even today’s standard a thoroughly modern woman who knew what she wanted and where her priorities lay.
Others might view her parenting style as a bit harsh. I did not find it so. On the contrary, her refusal to be the typical housewife and attentive mother freed me from being the typical child. She taught me to be independent from an early age and to take responsibilities for my action. I was taught the indignity of whining and the value of having principles. Although she could be impatient and strict she appreciated a good argument from her children and there was nothing she did not despise more than a lack of character and a display of weakness.
My father being a university lecturer and academic who spent most of his time with his nose in his books, it was my mother who was the handy person around the house. She could cook a mean dish if she wanted to but what she enjoyed most (at least to my eyes) was fixing the house, tinkering with the car, putting the garden and backyard in order and all those practical stuff that a more gender conscious household would relegate to the man in the family.
As to bringing up her daughters, not once did she waste her time to check to see if I had done my homework or made sure that I did well at school. In other words, my parents saw no need to push me to study hard, do my homework or to excel at school. Instead they instilled in me a love for books and of studying because, being academics, those were the very things my parents enjoyed doing most. Moreover, it never seemed to occur to them that I would have difficulties with my studies.
Thus I grew up thinking that everybody had to go to university. That books were worth more than dresses, and that women who didn’t work had something wrong with them. Whereas smart, educated women who gave up their career because they had to raise a family or because their husband didn’t let them, were seriously mentally deficient. A woman, in my mother’s eyes, must not be a slave, whether to her children, husband, family or society’s expectations. If she had the skills and the opportunities, it was a crime not maximise her potentials.
Far from feeling neglected, even at a very young age I admired my mother for knowing where her priorities lie and for putting her own happiness and self-fulfilment before that of others. While other mothers bent over backwards to spoil, fuss over and cajole their children, my mother expected nothing else other than independence. She demanded not respect, but for me to respect myself. She did not desire for her children to make her happy but that we should ensure our own happiness. While other children took their mothers for granted, I idolised my mother.
Until now I share her vision that it is up to every woman to fulfil all her potentials and make choices that would give her the greatest satisfaction in her own life. After all, a happy woman makes a wonderful mother, a great wife, a fun companion and someone who contributes positively to the society.
So when a friend who runs the HR department of a company told me only the other day that a smart and hardworking female employee refused to be promoted because that would mean earning more salary and a higher status than her husband’s, while yet another bright and educated female staff tendered her resignation because her husband felt there should only be one breadwinner in the house, I could not help but think, if my mother were to hear this story, she would surely turn in her grave.
(Desi Anwar: First published in Tempo English)
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