Interfaith Womanist – Feminism and Religion

Mother Blues II: Interfaith Womanist Reflections on Nurturing a Resilient Bloom, part 2 by Chaz J

You can read part 1 here.

I remember confessing to a kindred spirit, also a therapist, heart heavy with a therapist’s sight: my daughter, a child of divorce. And I, who knew the long, shadowed roads— the substances, the destructive turns children take to bury unaddressed grief, hurt, and pain— this knowledge terrified me.

My friend, in turn, spoke of her own adopted daughter, of sudden, tearful storms for a birth family unseen. “This is her journey,” she said softly, “You cannot control the currents of her life. All you can do is stand with her, and teach her to navigate with a healthy heart.”

Until that moment, my fierce, unspoken goal was to shield my daughter from a therapist’s couch in twenty years’ time. But then, my friend’s truth cut through: “There is no perfect parent, and she will likely find her way to therapy no matter what you do. Just do your best and TRUST that she will be ok.”

This truth allowed me to soften, to release. Now, my purpose unfurls: to forge a bond with her, a healthy and vibrant connection that stretches through the wholeness of our days. I want her to know, beyond all shadow of doubt, that she can depend wholly on her mother, a steadfast harbor in every storm.

Mother Blues II: Interfaith Womanist Reflections on Nurturing a Resilient Bloom, part 1 by Chaz J

Even before her life unfurled beneath my heart, a quiet vow took root: to parent with purposeful grace. My unwavering compass points to this: to nurture an emotionally vibrant, confident, kind, compassionate, gentle, yet fiercely bold chocolate warrior queen, a child wholly devoted to her own radiant self. For in her spirit, I long to mend the broken echoes of my past, to see her soar where I once faltered, especially in the intricate landscape of the soul. She will possess a richness I only dreamed of; she will transcend.

Seven years, a fertile ground before her birth, from youth’s edge at twenty-two to twenty-nine, I dreamt of motherhood, shaping it idealistically. My spirit yearned to reweave the tapestry of mothering, to cast aside the heavy cloak of predetermined expectation: no longer would Black motherhood be synonymous with weariness, with anger’s sharp embrace, with bitterness, or a spirit held distorted and captive. I craved for her a vision unobstructed, a path where she could shatter the assigned roles that shadowed a Black girl’s journey into Black womanhood in this land. Above all, I wanted her to be FREE.

Interfaith Womanism and Healing Psychology Embodied Through Art by Chaz J.

A thoughtful gesture from a coworker—complimentary tickets to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum—stirred a quiet excitement within me. It’s curious, isn’t it, to reside in Boston, a city so steeped in history and intellectual vigor, yet find oneself so often distanced from its beautiful, intricate past? Time, energy, and finances often conspire to keep such access at arm’s length, even for a history buff like myself. It was a welcome reminder of the stories waiting to be discovered, right here in my own backyard.

I arrived at the museum expecting to immerse myself in the European art showcased on its website. Yet, to my profound surprise, the featured exhibit immediately drew me into a powerful narrative: one that centered the Black struggle for freedom, dignity, and the reclaiming of ancestral roots, in this case Haitian Vodou. These roots, I believe, have always grounded, protected, inspired, and empowered the African diaspora across the globe.