A woman must inevitably compromise a part of themselves once they become a mother. A solemn sacrifice that is only observed by her daughter and death (gravestones). Daughters understand the melancholic transition from girlhood to womanhood. They understand it as not a simple loss of innocence, but an unwilling acceptance of insincerity. Daughters expect others to finally take them seriously as they age into adulthood, but become increasingly disillusioned upon puberty. The formation of breasts and blood between their legs represent Time’s imminent cost.
The countdown of fertility tolls each month with each loss of an egg followed by the intrinsic pain of fertility (menstrual cramps). With each toll of the bell (womb), the daughter comprehends how society increasingly views her not as an individual of thought, but as a bloodline producer. She understands the expectation of birth placed upon her shoulders by consistent comments: “You may think you don’t want children now, but you will when you’re older.” Family members will disregard your outlook on political matters and instead bring up how such a pretty beauty like you should pass your features to the next generation. You begin to understand that becoming a mother is an act of sacrifice because once the babe is cradled to your chest, people will first and foremost perceive you as a mother.
A daughter looks back at her mother with unconditional love for her immortal sacrifice of personhood. She will cry in the strong arms of her mother for all the times she called her selfish. Although sometimes the remark rang true, nothing compares to the initial offering of compassionate birth. The daughter will always recall her mother’s sacrifice before critiquing her way of thought. She will forever endeavour to uphold her mother’s voice because others did not care to acknowledge her personhood. A mother’s compromise will be immortalised through her maternal descendants. A daughter’s voice is afterall powered by her maternal ancestors’ DNA, which shall never be.
