One dark day last December, I remember holding onto my mom so hard that my 5’6”-5’7” self completely enveloped her 5’1” tiny-Asian-mother body. But I was actually enveloped by her. I just buried myself inside her because I knew this place was safe and protected and available and it’s always been as so, even if her incessant nagging was cutting into my brain last week. Fear and dread are left outside as soon as I enter this place.
Mum is there. It's a certainty I don't even think about (although I should more often), she holds a place, so life and its throes are a little easier to bear. She doesn’t even have to say the right words, I just need to hear her voice because it’s familiar and it’s one I can believe and trust and fall in to and it brings me back down and the future unknown is less of a cliff drop-off. It’s the power of Mom.
So to know that there are 276 girls out there right now who are just paralyzed with fear but they can’t crawl into the safe space of their mothers to be wrapped and soothed is wrenching and unbearable for me to think about. 276 broken mothers are sleepless, drowning in the thought of their daughters being bought and sold this instant, restless and anxious because they can't act on the instinctive, desperate urge to run and step in front of their daughter, to be the barrier between them and a strange man, to prevent that transaction being made.
Absolutely nothing seems to be moving forward to save any of them.
I hate being so real on a day that celebrates moms everywhere, and I don’t want to take away from the ones who can happily celebrate their mother-daughter relationships…
But I feel that this is something that needs to be thought about today. Have it sit with you for a moment, force yourself to come up to the very edge of feeling that fear and dread felt both by a daughterless mother or a motherless daughter, just to remind yourself of how goddamn lucky you are that the safe space of your mom is right within reach.