My niece turned 11 today. She looks like she’s fifteen or sixteen, and she’s already asking when she can start dating. She will be taller than me by my next birthday (April), and her hands and feet are already bigger than mine.
She is wearing lipgloss and eye…stuff, and she wants to get her ears pierced. Yes, I know this is a natural progression, but I am not prepared for it! I only see her (and her brothers) once a month or so, and she seems to grow EVERY time I see her! I still remember her when she was an exuberant, chubby four year old, running as fast as her little legs could carry her while she laughed up a storm.
She is six years older than her one brother (eight years older than the other brother), so I got to know her the best of my brother’s children. We clicked from the start, and we would spend long hours making up stories in which we had many adventures along the way. These stories would go on and on for months until I finally would put an end to one, and then we would start another. We have been fairies and wizards (her mom doesn’t like witches), princesses (well, she was a princess. I was a queen), and her current favorite, she’s a rock star and I’m her publicist. We have matching stuffed monkeys, only hers is bigger. Their names are Smokey (hers) and the Bandit (mine).
When she was growing up, I only had one rule for her: Don’t break your head. I figured everything else was fixable. For her two younger brothers, I am making up rules by the minute (“Don’t poke me in the eye.” “Don’t hit me with that.” “Don’t run into me.” As my niece joked, “Don’t touch me!” That’s actually what it came down to today). She was spirited, mischievous, and adventurous, but she wasn’t malicious, mean, or willful (in a bad way).
I have watched her grow up with a sense of pride, joy, love, awe, and more than a touch of regret. Not for her, but for me. See, she believes she can be anybody she wants and do anything she chooses. Before the last election, she told me that she didn’t want Clinton to win because she wanted to be the first female president of the United States. I said she could be the first female Asian American president, and she accepted that. She dreams of being a rock star, a veternarian, a dancer, and a thousand other things. Tonight, she performed Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (as sung by Hannah Montana) with confidence and verve. There was no self-consciousness in her performance, not a whit.
Why the regret? Because by her age, I had already tucked away many of my dreams. I knew that I would never be president of the United States; in fact, I don’t remember ever thinking that I COULD be president. I have loved acting since I was born, but by her age, I knew there was no way I could be an actor. In part, it was because my family gave me no indication that being an actor was a viable career. In another part, a larger part, it was because I didn’t see anyone who looked like me on the teevee machine or at the movies, unless, as Margaret Cho so aptly put it (and I’m paraphrasing), you wanted to die on M*A*S*H as an extra!
By the time I was her age, I was already in the throes of a deep depression. I was fat, awkward, unhappy, and suicidal (at least in thought). I hated everything and everyone, most of all, myself.
In contrast, she is beautiful, physically as well as emotionally. She is smart, funny, caring, creative, and happy with herself. I know she has some issues such as her height (“Tall girls want cute shoes, too!”) and her teeth (they’re crooked), but over all, she is comfortable in her own skin. She used to be pretty rough with her younger brothers, but she has really softened towards them. She can often calm down one or the other when no one else can. She loves to read, and she’s really into the Harry Potter series. She started an H.P. Lovecraft book, but she found it boring.
For her birthday, I gave her a batch of books. I usually give her books or ethnic dolls or anything else that is a little bit different. It’s difficult because she always gets the pop culture stuff from everyone else. One year, it was Barbies. One year, it was My Little Ponies. One year, it was Polly Pockets. This year, it was Hannah Montana. It’s difficult because while I know she appreciates my gifts (indeed, she was reading, for the fifth time, a book I’d given her for Christmas, and then she made a paper ball following the instructions in the origami book I gave her), there isn’t that immediate wow! factor.
In addition, my brother is worried that I’m a bad influence on her. I’m not sure exactly why, but I figure it has something to do with the following list:
- I’m not a Christian.
- I’m not married.
- I don’t have kids.
- I’m bi (never explicitly told him, but he knows).
- I believe in sex. Period.
- I have tats.
- I’m a DFH.
- I’m ‘dark’.
That’s just the short list! He worries because she idolizes me. He doesn’t understand that, in part, it’s because I am so different than every other woman she knows. I don’t just question the status quo; I fucking ignore it (for the most part). I’ve always joked that I would be the crazy aunt, but it’s pretty much my role in life. In addition, because she only sees me once a month, she doesn’t really have time to get sick of me. I don’t discipline her, and I listen to her–really listen to her. She also knows that when we make up our stories, she can take them in any direction. She loves to have me make up stories for her as well.
When she was a little girl, people thought she was my daughter. Her mom is Caucasian, and my niece definitely looked Asian back then. My family all thought that when she was a baby, she (my niece) looked just like me. My sister-in-law did not like that at all, but I wonder if that’s part of the bond between us, too. People would constantly call us by each other’s name (also did not go over well with her mother), and any time I was over, my niece would demand my complete attention. I am careful when I am with her because I don’t want to do anything that would hurt her or be bad for her. I love her more deeply than I thought possible.
She is so very precious to me. Watching her tonight, I felt myself tearing up. How can the girl who I held in my arms when she was but a baby be the beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent, loving, creative young girl who was standing before me? How did she grow up to be so heartbreakingly special? I will claim a bit of satisfaction that I had a hand, however tangentially, in making her the girl she is today.
So, I brush back the bitter tears of regret I feel for the confident little girl I never was in order to celebrate you, my niece. May you always hold onto your sense of self and your sense of worth. If you only knew how proud I am to be your aunt. I love you. I cherish you. I cannot wait to see how far your dreams take you.
Happy Birthday. May this be your most fabulous year yet.
Before the last election, she told me that she didn’t want Clinton to win because she wanted to be the first female president of the United States.
Awesome! She sounds like a wonderful kid. I want my own daughters to have the confidence and aspirations she does. What a beautiful tribute this is.
I hear you about the whole tempus fugit thing. We’re taking The Eight Year Old to get her ears pierced when they get back from vacation. (We were planning to wait until 10, but The Girls decided they were ready at 8, so what the hey.)
I don’t doubt that she’s beautiful. And I absolutely do not doubt that some part of that springs from her believing that she is. From my own experience, I think it makes a small but crucial difference (which is why I hope you come to believe it about yourself, Minna).
I’ve said that kind of thing before, but everything on your list is exactly why I’d *want* my daughters to know someone like you (and in many cases, they do — sadly, there aren’t many opportunities to know Asians in Indianapolis, but a good friend of mine from Cincinnati is half Filipino, and they know their “Uncle Alex”). When I chose their godparents (to a Sicilian, that’s a very special, very sacred relationship — The Godfather), I chose one for each of them who represented more stability and conformity, and one who represented nonconformity and more adventurousness. Your listening to her is possibly the greatest gift of all, and I don’t doubt that she became the person she is in part due to your influence.
I am so sorry you didn’t have the support to pursue your dreams. That’s absolutely tragic. That *sucks*! But it isn’t too late — it’s never too late. I hope she inspires you to tell yourself the same sentiments you’re wishing her.
MAn…Did I not say symbiotic something the other day? We touch on the same “themes” so often it is getting spooky, but that must be part of the connection.
Maybe you’re the only one who sees yourself as the crazy Aunt. Maybe she sees you as the one person she can go to who will listen (not lecture), who will will be there as a sounding board, to talk with (not talk to). And maybe she sees you as one of the stronger and saner women she knows for being who you are in a sea of carbon copies.
Your Gift to her, like Gregory says is to listen and hear her.
Her gift to you is her trust.
Wrap them in a box and keep them in your pocket as they are your precious Wampum. (I use a medicine bag)
Greg, my niece is truly breathtakingly beautiful physically, but she’s more so on the inside. She is one amazing girl. I wish I had a tenth of her confidence. I am glad for her, though, and I fiercely want her to hold onto that high self-esteem through the troubling teenage years. I will do whatever I can to make sure she doesn’t lose it. You do the same for your daughters. whabs, you, too. In that way, we will raise the next generations of girls to be stronger women. And Greg, I know intellectually that it’s not too late for me. It’s the feeling part of it that I still don’t grasp.
whabs, oh, I am the crazy aunt–but in a good way. I do think, though, that part of being the crazy aunt is allowing her to be herself. I give her that space and that energy. I do need a medicine bag. I haven’t had one in awhile. I feel the need for a talisman.
I bet that having an aunt like you is one of the reasons she exudes confidence. Your brother shouldn’t worry so much – your influence may help her think for herself, but it won’t get her thrown in jail or pregnant too young. Way to go!
You are so NOT a DFH! You don’t smell like one, and you’re too skeptical about the left as well as the right. And I would bet you don’t regularly participate in a “drum circle” (shudder).