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Thursday, June 5, 2025

Bloodlines and Boundaries

Writ­ers on dif­fi­cult moth­er–daugh­ter love

by

25 days ago
20250509

Moth­er’s Day of­ten cel­e­brates the ide­alised ma­ter­nal bond—flow­ers, grat­i­tude, and the mythol­o­gy of un­con­di­tion­al love. But for many women, the re­la­tion­ship with their moth­ers is more com­plex, lay­ered with si­lence, mis­un­der­stand­ing, long­ing, and un­spo­ken grace. Lit­er­a­ture, es­pe­cial­ly by women writ­ers, of­fers us not sim­pli­fi­ca­tions, but truths.

This fea­ture high­lights ten ex­tra­or­di­nary au­thors——who have dared to ex­plore dif­fi­cult moth­er–daugh­ter re­la­tion­ships through mem­oir, fic­tion, po­et­ry, and hy­brid nar­ra­tives. These are not al­ways sto­ries of rec­on­cil­i­a­tion. Some are about rup­ture. Oth­ers are about sur­viv­ing rup­ture.

1. Maya An­gelou & Vi­vian Bax­ter: The Long Road Back

Maya An­gelou’s ear­ly sep­a­ra­tion from her moth­er, Vi­vian Bax­ter, led to a strained re­la­tion­ship. How­ev­er, in her mem­oir Mom & Me & Mom (2013), An­gelou re­counts their even­tu­al rec­on­cil­i­a­tion:

“On the day we moved from her house, Moth­er lib­er­at­ed me by let­ting me know she was on my side. I re­al­ized that I had grown close to her and that she had lib­er­at­ed me. She lib­er­at­ed me from a so­ci­ety that would have had me think of my­self as the low­er of the low. She lib­er­at­ed me to life. And from that time to this time, I have tak­en life by the lapels and I have said, ‘I’m with you, kid.’”

—Maya An­gelou, Mom & Me & Mom

This lib­er­a­tion marked a turn­ing point, al­low­ing An­gelou to em­brace her iden­ti­ty and strength.

2. Jeanette Win­ter­son & Mrs Win­ter­son: Love in Ex­ile

Jeanette Win­ter­son’s adop­tive moth­er, Mrs Win­ter­son, was a strict Pen­te­costal who of­ten ex­pressed her dis­ap­proval. In Why Be Hap­py When You Could Be Nor­mal? (2011), Win­ter­son re­calls:

“When my moth­er was an­gry with me, which was of­ten, she said, ‘The Dev­il led us to the wrong crib.’”

—Jeanette Win­ter­son, Why Be Hap­py When You Could Be Nor­mal?

De­spite the harsh­ness, Win­ter­son re­flects on the com­plex­i­ties of their re­la­tion­ship, ac­knowl­edg­ing the chal­lenges and the re­silience it fos­tered in her.

3. Ja­maica Kin­caid: The Lega­cy of Ma­ter­nal Si­lence

In The Au­to­bi­og­ra­phy of My Moth­er (1996), Ja­maica Kin­caid ex­plores the ab­sence of her moth­er, who died dur­ing child­birth, and the im­pact of this loss:

“My moth­er died at the mo­ment I was born, and so for my whole life there was noth­ing stand­ing be­tween my­self and eter­ni­ty; at my back was al­ways a bleak, black wind.”

—Ja­maica Kin­caid, The Au­to­bi­og­ra­phy of My Moth­er

This pro­found ab­sence shaped Kin­caid’s un­der­stand­ing of iden­ti­ty and wom­an­hood, high­light­ing the en­dur­ing in­flu­ence of ma­ter­nal re­la­tion­ships.

4. Sylvia Plath & Au­re­lia Plath: The Mir­ror and the Crime

Sylvia Plath’s cor­re­spon­dence with her moth­er, Au­re­lia, re­veals the com­plex­i­ties of their bond. In Let­ters Home (1975), Plath writes:

“I am but one more drop in the great sea of mat­ter, de­fined, with the abil­i­ty to re­al­ize my ex­is­tence. Of the mil­lions, I, too, was po­ten­tial­ly every­thing at birth. I, too, was stunt­ed, nar­rowed, warped, by my en­vi­ron­ment, my out­crop­pings of hered­i­ty. I, too, will find a set of be­liefs, of stan­dards to live by, yet the very sat­is­fac­tion of find­ing them will be marred by the fact that I have reached the ul­ti­mate in shal­low, two-di­men­sion­al liv­ing—a set of val­ues.”

—Sylvia Plath, Let­ters Home

This in­tro­spec­tion un­der­scores Plath’s quest for iden­ti­ty amidst the ex­pec­ta­tions and pres­sures of her ma­ter­nal re­la­tion­ship.

5. Vir­ginia Woolf: A Moth­er Re­mem­bered as Ab­sence

Vir­ginia Woolf’s moth­er, Ju­lia Stephen, passed away when Woolf was 13, leav­ing a last­ing void. In A Sketch of the Past, Woolf re­flects:

“I see my­self as a fish in a stream; de­flect­ed; held in place; but I can­not de­scribe the stream.”

—Vir­ginia Woolf, A Sketch of the Past

This ab­sence pro­found­ly in­flu­enced Woolf’s writ­ing, per­me­at­ing her nar­ra­tives with themes of loss and mem­o­ry.

6. Ed­widge Dan­ti­cat – Breath, Eyes, Mem­o­ry

In her de­but nov­el, Breath, Eyes, Mem­o­ry (1994), Hait­ian-Amer­i­can au­thor Ed­widge Dan­ti­cat delves in­to the in­ter­gen­er­a­tional trau­ma be­tween moth­ers and daugh­ters. The pro­tag­o­nist, So­phie, grap­ples with the lega­cy of her moth­er Mar­tine’s ex­pe­ri­ences, in­clud­ing the trau­mat­ic prac­tice of “test­ing” for vir­gin­i­ty. This rit­u­al, passed down from moth­er to daugh­ter, be­comes a sym­bol of con­trol and in­her­it­ed pain.

“There is a place where women live in the red. It’s the place where they go to be moth­ers, where they go to be daugh­ters, where they go to be sis­ters. It’s the place where they go to be women.”

—Ed­widge Dan­ti­cat, Breath, Eyes, Mem­o­ry

Dan­ti­cat’s nar­ra­tive ex­plores how cul­tur­al tra­di­tions can per­pet­u­ate cy­cles of trau­ma, and how con­fronting these prac­tices is es­sen­tial for heal­ing and self-dis­cov­ery.

7. Chi­ma­man­da Ngozi Adichie – Dear Ijeawele, or A Fem­i­nist Man­i­festo in Fif­teen Sug­ges­tions

Niger­ian au­thor Chi­ma­man­da Ngozi Adichie’s Dear Ijeawele (2017) is a let­ter to a friend on how to raise a fem­i­nist daugh­ter. Adichie em­pha­sizes the im­por­tance of em­pow­er­ing girls to ques­tion so­ci­etal norms and to val­ue them­selves equal­ly.

“Teach her that the idea of ‘gen­der roles’ is ab­solute non­sense. Do not ever tell her that she should or should not do some­thing be­cause she is a girl.”

—Chi­ma­man­da Ngozi Adichie, Dear Ijeawele

Through this man­i­festo, Adichie pro­vides guid­ance on nur­tur­ing in­de­pen­dent and con­fi­dent daugh­ters who can nav­i­gate and chal­lenge pa­tri­ar­chal struc­tures.

8. Ri­ta Dove – Moth­er Love

In her po­et­ry col­lec­tion Moth­er Love (1995), for­mer US Po­et Lau­re­ate Ri­ta Dove reimag­ines the myth of Deme­ter and Perse­phone to ex­plore the com­plex­i­ties of the moth­er–daugh­ter bond. The po­ems delve in­to themes of sep­a­ra­tion, long­ing, and the cycli­cal na­ture of love and loss.

“I lost my moth­er in the myth of her. I am the moth­er now.”

—Ri­ta Dove, Moth­er Love

Dove’s work cap­tures the en­dur­ing im­pact of ma­ter­nal re­la­tion­ships and the ways in which daugh­ters car­ry for­ward their moth­ers’ lega­cies.

9. Buchi Emecheta – The Joys of Moth­er­hood

Niger­ian nov­el­ist Buchi Emecheta’s The Joys of Moth­er­hood (1979) chal­lenges tra­di­tion­al no­tions of moth­er­hood through the sto­ry of Nnu Ego, a woman whose iden­ti­ty is deeply tied to her role as a moth­er. The nov­el cri­tiques so­ci­etal ex­pec­ta­tions and the sac­ri­fices women make in the name of moth­er­hood.

“She had been a good moth­er, and yet her chil­dren had all left her. She had giv­en them life, and they had tak­en it and gone away.”

—Buchi Emecheta, The Joys of Moth­er­hood

Emecheta’s nar­ra­tive high­lights the of­ten un­ac­knowl­edged strug­gles of moth­ers and ques­tions the true re­wards of moth­er­hood.

These ten writ­ers do not of­fer easy res­o­lu­tions. What they of­fer is more dif­fi­cult, and more valu­able: a lan­guage for grief, rage, si­lence—and some­times, sur­vival. Whether in the form of with­held ten­der­ness, in­her­it­ed trau­ma, cul­tur­al du­ty, or ab­sence, each of these daugh­ters con­front­ed the moth­er as both myth and woman. In do­ing so, they made space for some­thing braver than rec­on­cil­i­a­tion: un­der­stand­ing with­out il­lu­sions, and love—when it came—as a choice.


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