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Crow's Caw
Crow's Caw
Letter to my Grandsons
by Crow Cohen
So both my daughters gave birth to boys last year, two weeks apart. Suddenly I’m a double grandma! Anybody who has known me for a while says, “Crow with two grandsons? How the hell is she going to deal with that? This I gotta see.” Yep. My Higher Power sure has a sense of humor all right.
OK. So I have these two one-year-old boys in my life. When I was coming out as a lesbian feminist in the ‘70’s I had two daughters. That was probably a good thing because in those days, women with boy children were mercilessly challenged; and I had all I could handle leaving my husband and being a single parent, let alone battling with the community about man-hating. As I recall, I was uncharacteristically quiet during those debates: Should we allow boy children at our gatherings? If so, until they were how old? Boy energy definitely affects girl energy. How do we assure that the girls don’t feel dominated or harassed? How can we be naked in front of boys? And so on.
Because I had such a hard time raising my own children, I couldn’t come down hard on mothers, no matter what gender their offspring. I was confused and scared during those discussions, but naively relieved that I didn’t have to face that problem head-on. Many of our sisters were dreadfully wounded by those struggles with separatism, but we were forging ahead towards a freedom hitherto unknown for women. We were bound to be awkward.
So I decided to write a letter to my grandsons for the OITM Mother’s Day issue. Hey, these guys are a gas! They toddle around eager to explore every nook and cranny they can get their little bodies into. They experiment with vibrating their lips while eating Yo-Yo Baby yogurt and spray it all over, which cracks me up. (Don’t tell their moms, it just encourage them.) They clap and dance and greet me with big grins when I come in the door. They need me for comfort and cuddling. And the best part is, they’re my grandkids. I am not their primary parent. Hallelujah! (Been there. Done that. Am writing the book.) That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
So here goes, boys. Your lesbian feminist grandma has a few words she wants to share with you:
Dear Joshua and Lewis,
I thought I’d write you a letter when you’re only a year old to introduce myself to you, in case it comes in handy one of these days for you to know a little about your roots. I am a Jewish lesbian feminist. At this point in your life, you are Jewish African-American boys. It’s frightening for me to admit how society could drive a wedge between us based on our essential differences. I’m here to tell you, there are no guarantees. That may sound like a threat; and I don’t want to scare you, but perhaps by the time you read this you will have developed some tools to get you through the doses of pain life will heap on you from time to time - just as I have. On the other hand, we have the potential to triumph over our differences, or to use an expression that was popular in the ‘90’s when you were born – “to embrace diversity.” As I hold your small bodies in my arms these days, I am literally embracing diversity.
So who is this grandma of yours? I grew up in a conventional Jewish-American nuclear family in Hartford, Connecticut. I had an un-traumatic childhood. No sexual or physical abuse. No poverty. No major illnesses. No gut-wrenching separations. No alcoholism or drug addiction in the family. No violence in the home or neighborhood. Anti-Semitism definitely there, but subtle. Although I lived in a religiously diverse neighborhood and would hang out with non-Jewish kids on the street, I never played in any of their houses. It just wasn’t done. We little ones must have gotten the message that our houses were off-limits to one another. I was never called a dirty Jew, although years later I heard there was one neighbor that used to call my father on the phone during Christian holidays when she got drunk and vented her Jew-hating on him. By the way, your great-grandfather was a sweet, good-natured personable kind of guy who owned a corner drugstore. I grew up privileged in so, so many ways.
I got married young - at the age of 20 - to a high school sweetheart who turned into an Air Force pilot. I had two daughters, and when I was in my 30’s chose to become a radical lesbian feminist. That’s when I got swept up in the movement and turned against men - not the men closest to me, however. My father remained kind and tolerant his whole life. My brother is a happy, very funny guy who’s great to be around. He’s also excellent at talking about his feelings. I still loved my ex-husband deeply when I left him, and it took me 10 years to get over him. We’re not friends anymore, but that’s because he’s been unwilling to maintain any meaningful contact with his former family. It happens. I’m sorry to say he’s among many men who run away from their feelings as well as their kids.
Let’s put it this way. I guess I have to come to terms with all that global man- hating I indulged in when I was a militant lesbian. It was simple to hate men back then. It is clear that they control the world, pollute the environment and are violent against women even though I never experienced that kind of violence first hand in my family. I am profoundly afraid that your gender is going to destroy the earth and all its inhabitants. I have made a choice in my life not to devote my emotional and sexual life to a male partner. That’s what makes me a lesbian. That’s what has helped me to be self-loving in the midst of all this women-hatred. I am making the choice to let down some of those defenses against males I have had to develop in order to survive in a rampantly sexist world. What choice do I have, boys, except to do the very best I can to love you deeply, albeit imperfectly? You are brand new souls born at a time in my life when I felt intensely vulnerable. You will help to heal me since one of those tools I have learned (and it has taken 56 years to sink in) is that one heals quicker by helping others. It helps to feel needed.
And when you’re old enough to read this, how closely we bond will be partly up to you. For sure you are going to hear messages from your eccentric grandmother that will contradict the messages you will be inundated with by the rest of society. For example, you will hear that you are of more worth than girls are. You are worth quite a lot, but not more than. You will be expected to feel smarter, stronger and way cooler than you may feel inside and will be advised not to admit you feel weak, scared and sad. You have my permission to admit to all your feelings - just ask for help when you go and act on them. I will also say things I shouldn’t - like, are you sure you want to go out for football? Why not try sewing? And undoubtedly you’ll be frustrated at Grandma’s house because she doesn’t have TV.
As for the African-American side of you, we’ll be learning together on that one. I’m afraid I’m a rank beginner since I’ve never had a person of color in my family before. You’ll have a triple whammy to deal with – being Jewish, Black, and having a lesbian grandmother. How can I ever prepare you for that, except to teach you to detect the bullshit - providing I stay open to picking it up myself?
So what would I want from you if I had my druthers, knowing full well I have no control over your journeys? That you would somehow be among those rare guys who “get it” - who get that dominating women is a drag and will prevent you from experiencing your full humanity. Who get that being soft, nurturing, kind and gentle are huge blessings. If you do get it, I would hope more than anything you will teach your brothers any way you can through art, politics or just by being powers of example. And if you don’t get it, then know I’ll be in the background rootin’ for you. I have much more patience than I had in the seventies, kids. Why, here it is 25 years later and men still rule the world, yet I’m committing myself to two males.
Twenty-five years ago I struggled to break a commitment to a man I loved at the time because I knew I had to devote my life to women and couldn’t do that within the context of a heterosexual marriage. You may choose to be straight, gay, bi or trans. I cannot presume to know what will keep your hearts and minds aligned years from now, but I’m looking forward to hiking, biking, hanging out at the cabin with you, building huts and cooking. I’m game if you are. And when you’re old enough to talk, let’s get down. That’s the only way we’ll stay connected. I love you both with all my heart.
Grandma Crow