Mother’s day : a re-telling of my other mother :
i am thinking a lot about what it means to be a mother, to have a mother, the many people that nurture others like a mother........ even the faces you looked up into as a child associating caregiving.. nurturing. mothering ...
a couple of years ago i came upon a pretty large group of black housekeepers/ nannies... looking after white babies, in the park... they were all clearly bonded..chatting away, laughing.... and looked very joyous with the children they were taking care of
i spent some time just watching and then talking with them.. ..... taking a few images.. and it made me think a lot about my own early childhood from birth to twelve... when i was raised by a Haitian woman from Port Au Prince, named Jeanne Felix
i was the 3rd consecutive child born to my mother, who was used to living in the city and now having three small children under the age of three was living in the suburbs, a life she admits for a long time she did not relate to.
while she spent two years at home with my brothers, when i was born she decided to go back to school to get her masters in music...( she was an accomplished classical pianist) and my mother while caring, loving and closer to me from college on, was not someone i associated with motherhood early on.....I didn't have some of the same memories others had, not even my brothers.... ... but it was the arms i was put into...... Jeanne... big strong arms, big strong personality....... the person who i spent most of my time with, that i have some of the strongest of memories
i kind of told myself.. or rationalized that it was ok i was being placed with someone else to care for my feeding , bathing, bedtime.. that it was ok..because my parents were humanists.. and they definitely were.. very much so...and I am proud of them for that throughout all of their lives... and at that time they travelled back and forth to Haiti to bring over Jeannes grown children .. who then did make a life and flourish here in NY.....
so then began the largest part of my upbringing with Jeanne.... West Indian markets... Creole songs and folktales, watching Lawrence Welk show on her bed... .... visiting with her family at that time on Riverside Drive, which had a huge Haitian community.. i sometimes even spent the weekend....
it then came as no surprise later on that i had a deep connection to black culture.. especially to West Indian life... where i found myself traveling to many times,as often as i could gather the money to do so.... ...to an obsession with a collection of West Indian and Haitian art... vintage postcards, books...memorabilia........ and to where my photography began......... shooting in Jamaica every few months for several years.. and then on to other islands....countries..... and my consistent desire to always return.. bc it has a special piece of my heart.. that feels home to me in some deep way......... i know it is began from my life with Jeanne.....
so in great part.. Jeanne while not the most affectionate person.. she was the one that instilled a love.. a passion. a sense of being that has remained with me throughout my life.... and in fact she too in some ways was also my mother...
and as i have some discomfort for historical reasons when i see black women raising white babies... (albeit there are lots of latino, european nannies... etc.. ) ......but i guess what I’m reflecting on.. considering... is the mixed bag of feelings i have had about this time period in my life...how it came to be so many came to raise others children, leaving their own at home, in search of a new or better life... to make money .. to send home.. it kind of tugs on me from all different angles.. a bit too deep and complicated for FB...but i admit i sometimes felt ashamed that my mother did that...chose to have someone else basically raise me until 12... but i knew no different... i didn't make that choice.. and she had her valid reasons for continuing on her own path. maybe in the end i was the lucky one.. it taught me tolerance.. acceptance of culture.. religion... (Jeanne was a bit into voodoo)... i think I’ve always been open bc of that to others....
what i DO KNOW.... is that we owe a huge huge debt of Gratitude for all those nannies out there.. many who left places they loved, lived.. to nurture others...
THANK YOU Jeanne felix (that is Jeanne with me in the first photo) .... for taking such good care of me and giving me my love of black culture and the West Indies that has stolen my heart... and to the seed that you planted that has since flourished, and continues to flourish through my photography
Ironic i ended up with a Rasta boy, or is it???
( i have been on a quest to figure out how i can find jeanne’s family in Brooklyn and NY, and to continue some further photographic work with some individual nannies).. in part to tell their stories.. and at the same time in part to discover my own.
