
My daughter Joy, in so many ways, is like my mother Vera–competent, feisty, determined, smart, no-nonsense, generous, gracious, and loving. Many of her mannerisms mimic Vera’s as well, yet Joy barely knew my mother. She died soon after Joy’s fifth birthday. Unlike both my mother and me, though, Joy came into the world wired with a feminist vision. Comfortable in her own skin from the “get-go,” she did not shrink from asserting her right (quietly–she’s an introvert) to participate in whatever caught her fancy “out there.” She always had a strong sense of autonomy and resists, along with other feminists, when men (or to be more accurate–the patriarchal social system that informs us) attempt to shape public policy based on (primarily) men’s experiences and political agendas.
It took some time for me to understand the structured (and toxic) nature of gender inequality within our society, and even more time to learn to “speak that truth to power.” During Joy’s formative years, I tried my best to instill into her what I had been taught–women were created primarily to be “help-meets” for their husbands and by extension, men. Joy never bought into that “truth.” I could tell by the way she lived. For example, Joy liked to cook. When she prepared a dish, she balked if (when) family members just helped themselves to the fruits of her labor. She insisted they first ask to partake of the food she prepared. She would not be taken for granted. Continue reading “My Tribute to Joy and Vera by Esther Nelson”






