Julia Chen shares about her complicated relationship with her mother and how that changed once she had a daughter.
My mother turned 100 last year. Born in Beijing, she’s the eldest daughter of a scholar household. In the sixties, she took her three children from Japan to San Francisco, where she began teaching Chinese and Japanese at San Francisco State University.
My relationship with my mother has always been tumultuous. Although westernized, she was conservative. We clashed over everything. She wanted me to become a doctor; I wanted an international career. She frowned on my politics, casual clothes and taste in music. “I should’ve never sent you to Berkeley!” she’d snap.
Things were different however once my daughter Allegra was born. Perhaps she saw how I negotiated Allegra’s independent streak with both restraint and encouragement. Gradually, my mother and I learned to respect our differences. I respect that she straddled three cultures spanning a century.
My daughter gave birth to her own baby girl last summer. Along with the joy, she spoke of the sadness of seeing the baby outgrow her clothes, start eating real food, no longer an infant. “Get used to it,” I told her. Raising a child is also about letting go. Along with the pride of seeing them go out into the world, you experience the inevitable separation.