Confessions of a libra

Credit: Here

13.05.25

They’ll never be enough recognition for mothers. A sacred calling for community. We should never forget that some of our mothers weren’t ready. Didn’t know who they were yet. Were still navigating the world, the effects of being pushed into romance through several insidious ways, and some were much too young. Healing a mother wound doesn’t always look like receiving an apology or acknowledgement. I’ve always felt that the secret sauce is about seeing your parent as a whole human being. Not the person who has to wake you up to go to work in the morning, not the after-thought you remember on Mother’s Day and damn sure not the one who carries all the load silently.

You must ask enough questions to understand who she was as a girl, who she was as a teenager and you should know who she has turned into as an adult. This information should help you understand her better; where her fear of intimacy comes from, why she has body image issues, why she harps on about your punctuality, who has devalued her and when she started to believe it. Just like we are fallible humans, so are our mothers. They are just women who happen to have children. Being a mother can be a calling but it is not made to be anyone’s whole personality.

I want to gush about my mother. Only to show that you can have an imperfect relationship, and still value where you come from and the lessons you learnt. For those close to me, none of this information will be surprising but let’s begin anyway. My mother is one of the strongest people I know. Yes, you might not see her cry, if at all. She is heavily misunderstood because she hates performance. Had she grown up in a different time, the neurospicy girlies would love her because she keeps it real. She is more committed to honesty and being herself than she is committed to worrying about your perception. As someone who was born with a lot of ingrained sensitivity, I need to have a mother like her to not crumble. I needed a strong guiding force to model what sovereignty looks like.

Her strength and grace at handling the hardships means people never asked her the right questions, assuming she was fine. She is and was kind of woman I have caught chasing burglars out of our yard in the middle of the night. The day you wake up and find your mother chasing a burglar and see him run to jump the fence away from her, you realise you are dealing with a badass bitch. When she was younger she was shamed for wearing pants, something she found to be the most comfortable. She also loved makeup, which was a choice not always understood by hyper-religious women. She was called all sorts of derogatory names reserved only for women. Because a woman who dresses for comfort and cares about adornment is wanton. Obviously.

She taught me to be soft in her own way. Maybe she wasn’t the most comfortable when I cried but she was excellent at modelling self care. With a natural talent for anything sensory. The kind of woman to have seasonal perfumes, always have a scented candle, incense, diffuser for essential oils… The kind of woman to learn about skincare and experiment in her own space and time. The kind of woman to buy herself soft fabrics, and comfortably sensual underwear. She taught me that some of the best things in life are things you experience. She taught me to always value my environment and travel within my own country first and foremost.

So many places we lived she had a vege garden that supplied us with fresh home-grown food. She was enterprising too, before we left Zimbabwe she would sell both the vegetables and even some chooks (on the side while she worked full time in Telecommunications). She taught me how to listen to nature and care for plants. She would make us chew mint on our way to school so the plant didn’t go to waste. By doing that she also showed us the older ways. The things people would have done without so much technology and ingredients. When we had a snake infestation problem, she was front and centre in catching those snakes. Even the grown men she called to assist her would cower at the last moment, when they actually had to face the snake.

My mother is brave and doesn’t even realise the extent of her superpower. Though she shouldn’t have to, you could throw her in the worst situation and watch her come out on top. She has an intellect that cuts through pretence – quiet, accurate and final. She was the first to marry/model the intersection of intellect, sensuality and spirituality for me. If you read this or you watch me online giving tarot readings, know that it is her I am based off of.

She listened to music other Zimbabweans didn’t. Not because she was a hipster but because she followed the beat of her own drum. I was the only Zim girl I knew who listened to Evanescence and No doubt on the drive to school. Her wisdom came womb-bound – quite, instinctive and undefeated. A well that is deep like the ocean. It has overridden her Christian wiring in many ways, which is how our little family was able to deconstruct religion.

It’s her groundwork – where she was able to balance her belief in science and magic – that cracked me open as well. During the 2008 global financial crises, we started off the year in Zimbabwe. That was the year we emigrated. My mother didn’t shy away from the bread shortage situation. Instead, she started making bread from scratch and taught us how to as well. Whenever she had too many lemons, she would hand-make us lemonade. Oh, the things I could tell you about food from my childhood. Eating homemade chutney, eating experimentally and making things from scratch. The original Nara Smith, if you will.

All of these things she has done without direction. She has operated both from survival and from intuition. She opened the door for me to see the world in a way that has always been unique from my peers. That’s because she too is unique. The black sheep of her own family. The single mum who has barrelled forward and achieved above and beyond what many could achieve on their own. Through sheer will and grit. I may tease her for her very Taurean ways, but beneath that I could not have asked for something different.

Earth sign mothers are not always the best emotional safe havens (honourable mentions Virgo and Capricorn) but these mothers will ensure you have the material needs. If you have a Taurus mother like myself, you will learn other intrinsic aspects of femininity that radiate out of them with much greater ease. My mother’s feminine star sign, helped me come out of my masculine as Libra is a masculine sign. Where Libra can sometimes value aesthetic and material comfort, Taurus knows how to embody. It’s not fake or try hard when they do it. So to end this love letter, I hope that you too can begin to look at your own mothers differently. Removing your hurts and your own emotions. Revere her for the woman that she is. For the pain she never confided. For the sleepless nights you never heard about. Know that she loves you, even when the language doesn’t sound like yours.