Being a woman isn’t as simple as it sounds. A woman has so many roles in life and rather than the list getting shorter, it continues to grow.
A woman must fulfill so many needs in a family. Although men have or share some of those responsibilities, it pales in comparison to those of a woman. To name a few, a woman is a nurturer (physically and emotionally), a confidant, disciplinarian, friend, bread winner, bread maker, nurse, maid, chauffeur, a shoulder to cry on/sleep on, etc. Unlike men, we enjoy many privileges that are bestowed only unto us such as giving birth to new life. They may be burdens at some time but it shows how important we really are to society.
Due to circumstances, some roles develop in ways one wouldn’t imagine. The memories of my Mamá Nina are a mix of awe, respect, frustration and disbelief. As a young child, Mamá Nina was orphaned and taken in by her godparents. At the tender age of 15, she was married to my grandfather Papá Isaias who was 30, a widower, and had 3 young children at home. My speculation for the match was necessity. Mamá Nina’s godparents might have wanted to rid themselves of the responsibility and extra mouth to feed. Papá Isaias was in a situation that REQUIRED a woman since a 30 year old male rancher did not DO housework or childcare. He needed a woman to take care of the home, she needed a man to take care of her. It was mutually benefiting.
Though their match was completed under these circumstances, it cannot be said that it was a bad one. They were married for 64 years. I was only there for 24 years of it. She was a stern woman that was taught only that which was necessary to survive. There were no lessons on philosophy, poetry, music or even human reproduction. Her lessons consisted of old wives’ tales that she believed in fervently until the day she died, religion, and hard work. She was a devout Catholic who only knew to sign her name, didn’t know how to write a letter, learned to read very little, and prayed the rosary every night from memory for as long as I can remember. She believed discipline to be best served through physical punishment not because she desired to inflict pain but because that’s the only way she knew how.
I heard many stories of her in her younger days of about 30 years old. Drinking home made liquor with the neighbors in the countryside. Staying out late and getting so inebriated, she lost her undergarments. I can’t say that my uncles and aunts at the time really appreciated her behavior and actually resented her their entire lives for it. Although she had fun with Papá Isais, she knew her place and the importance of a man in life. They were the sole earners of the household. Having sons meant that they could work and continue bringing money to the family. This is probably why she favored her sons over her daughters. Unfortunately, that belief and that favoritism only led to making her sons into spoiled brats. They spent her money, used her to cover up their illegitimate children, sexual escapades, and emotionally spent her.
There were 9 children overall in the family that survived. By the time I came along, she had been a grandmother over and over with some of the grandchildren being as old as my mother. I am the second child of her youngest daughter. When my brother came into the picture, I saw the way she coddled him and treated him with such tenderness. She potty trained him, fed him, and loved him dearly. I could see the difference in the way she treated my sister and me in relation to my brother.
Along with my sister, we were some of the youngest grandchildren living close to her. She took the time to teach me to mend clothing and to cross-stitch a pattern. She also taught me the basics of crochet and gave me lessons in Catechism. This was probably because I am a girl and was expected to be a good wife some day. In order to achieve that I would have to have great skills in cooking, cleaning, sewing, as well as being a good Catholic. This was probably also her way of showing love to her daughters and granddaughters.
As I grew, I began to realize that in the past, she had never been able to take time for herself. She was the kind of woman who felt her position in life was to do for everyone else. She was not an individual but just a means to an end. She continued coddling the men in the family even after dementia set it. There were times when I would try to sit and chat with her but the only subject she really spoke to me about was religious piety and being a good woman. She wasn’t the kind of woman that was your friend or confidant but rather tried to be your moral compass. Her role was always that of teacher to the women.
Perhaps I missed the compassionate side of her. Perhaps at one point she was a different woman but no one ever talks about that. All I know is that she never seemed quite happy until she started running her life in her 60’s. She was extremely social when I was a child. She lived day by day through work. When she no longer had to endure physical labor, her job became to take care of Papá Isaias. Even then, she continued working by setting up a tiny commercial store out of her home. She would wheel and deal with distributors to set-up stocking items in her store. It was a way for her to be the breadwinner for once and I believe that she truly enjoyed that kind of financial independence that most women didn’t have. It seemed that the woman was in constant motion. She was indefatigable and a businesswoman.
When Papá Isaias passed, she continued to handle business. It was only when her ability to walk was hindered that she began a steady decline. She confided that she felt there was nothing else for her to do. Although 3 of her daughters took care to mind her every need, it wasn’t the same as being able to do it independently. She could no longer work to make her own money and felt useless. When she was given money by family members ($10 here, $5 there), she saved it and then gave it to her sons. She needed to be needed and getting handouts wasn't the same as giving them. That independence might be one of the things I inherited from her along with pride and stubbornness.
One day I looked her in the eyes and realized that she was no longer there. The proud and stubborn woman no longer fought. She was ready to go. She finally got her wish to end the daily physical pain and overall exhaustion of having been alive for 86 years with many of those filled with backbreaking and arduous labor. September 20, 2011 will be a day to remember.
As a woman, she had the role of mother, disciplinarian, nurse (home made remedies), bread winner, and bread maker. Due to economics, education, and tradition, two women may not have the same responsibilities and duties. She may not have been the shoulder to cry on or a friend that you could confide in but she did the best she could with the tools she was given. I have respect for what she tried to do within her limitations and am glad and sad that some traditions left with her. She was a stronger woman than most for her time and I will always remember her for the fire in her soul that kept her going through the tough times.


