My Grandmother Wanted a Grandson

Before I begin, I know my grandmother loved me in her own way. She would pick me up for visits when my father could not bother to be around. She brought us food more than once to help because my dad never paid his child support. And she bought me cloths when her budget would allow, for that same reason. If that did not clarify it, I am talking about my father’s mom.

However, I can not count the times she told me that she wished I was a boy because “that thing between my legs would get me into trouble someday”. And that is exactly how she put it to me, even when I was five years old.

Grandma also, without my moms permission, had my long hair cut short so I would look more like a boy. I was about six when this occurred and it did not stop there. It was summer and she insisted that I go shopping with her without wearing a shirt.

I was devastated but she told me not to worry because everyone would just think that I was a boy. I, of course, knew I was a girl and I knew I was supposed to wear a shirt. I walked around with my arms crossed to cover my chest and my face red from tears the entire trip.

One good thing did come from it; she never tried either of those things again. My mom was infuriated about both events and threatened to not let her have me again.

The damage was already done though; I will never forget just how badly she wanted me to be a boy. Nor how far she went to get others to think she had a grandson.

On top of her wanting me to be a boy, my grandmother was very stern. You did what she wanted you to do or you got a bloody mouth. I was taught, pretty young, not to test her on that.

That said; I know my grandmother grew up in another time, where children were to be seen but not heard. Her father ran off with another woman, leaving my great grandmother to raise the remainder of their eight children on her own.

My Grandmother was only fifteen when my Grandfather, who was in his thirties, offered to marry her. It is my understanding; my grandma did not know my grandfather. It was more like a business arrangement because he needed a wife and my great grandmother would have one less mouth to feed. That could not have been pleasant for a fifteen year old to endure and I can only imagine the scars it left on her mentally.

People did not talk openly about things at that time. I can remember my grandmother telling me that she did not know what was going to happen on her wedding night between her and my grandfather. No one, even he, bothered to explain it to her. It was just something that happened to her and continued to happen to her while she remained married to him. I can remember her saying that it was unpleasant and that she did not enjoy the experiences.

Grandma did not even understand why her belly swelled when she fell pregnant with my father. No one told her she was carrying a baby or what was to come. She was one of the younger of her siblings so she did not remember her mother being pregnant.

It has always been hard for me to me to wrap my own mind around the fact that she literally had no clue what these things were or even why they were happening to her. I am sometimes glad that I do not know more because these things alone bring me some understanding of why she wanted me to be a boy.

Honestly, I think she thought life was better for men and in the time she grew up in, I am sure it was. Grandma had four sons and I believe she was happy because she thought they would have a better life than she had.

While I am not saying it justifies her behavior towards me, it does give me an understanding of what her thought process may have been and why.

That said, I never let her keep my children alone, for any reason, ever. I lived away but I would take them to see her, a couple of times a year. I kept the visits short and simple so they would never have to endure what I did.

I admit how she treated me does make me sad but I do not harbor any anger towards my grandmother. There was a time that I was angry but once I became older and fully process it, I realized it is what it is. Without those experiences I may not be who I am today.

I am not perfect by any stretch of the word but I do try to be a better person and learn from my own mistakes and the things that have happened to me.

Who am I to say my grandmother was not doing the same. I would like to believe that she strived to be better than the things that happened to her as well.

I own all of the photographs used.

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