Monday, February 06, 2006

Broke Back Mountain , Sprained Ankle Hill


I watched Broke Back Mountain with my mother yesterday. When the movie was over I cried hysterically for about five minutes. Once upon a time I could sit through a tear jerker and not shed a solitary tear. As I get older I realize I have become an emotional wussy. Without giving too much of the movie away, the movie affected my mother because it mirrored in essence the tragedy of my grandmother’s life. The movie inspired my mother to talk about her own mother in great depth. I was blown away by the conversation and the revelations:

Mia: I just don’t get it ma Ennis’s attitude you know he loved Jack.

Mom: Nena it wasn’t that easy for a person to come out back then, shit it’s hard for a person to come out now!

Mia: But come on Ma…

Mom: Come on nothing you don’t realize back then homosexuality was seen a depravity, a form of mental illness…my poor mother went through so much crap, she had to live the life others wanted for her not the one she was born to live.

she covered her face at the memory of her mom and when she took her hand down her eyes were brimming with tears…I could tell my mom was going to talk about her mother’s lesbianism in a way she had never spoken before

Mom: Do you know that the last time I spoke to my aunt Mina for some reason the conversation turned to the issue of gays adopting children and how people in Florida are against it. She actually had the nerve to tell me that she respects gays and lesbians. I wanted to reach out over the phone and throttle her! This from a woman who made my mother’s life a living hell because of her sexual orientation. Who from an early aged tried to poison my mind and succeeded in poisoning your Uncle Joey’s mind against our mother. I reminded her of all the crap she had put my mom through and she ignored me. All she said was Maggie you’re mother was such a beautiful woman no man or woman could ever resist her. She would walk down the street and heads would turn, men would stop in their tracks, cars would slow down to watch her walk by. She was simply gorgeous her beauty was only matched by the kind generous heart she had. What the hell man as if her praising my mother’s beauty was going to erase all the pain she had caused her. I found it funny how now she had nice things to say about my mother. Meanwhile she did everything she could to take us away from my mother because of her preference.

My mother was raised by her father. I never really understood how that came to be and was hoping that today she would tell me. I never understood why my mother had this aunt who adored her yet my mother avoided her like the plague. My mom just looked towards the wall at her mothers picture and started softly crying

Mia: So ma tell me so I can understand the deal with you and that side of the family.

Mom: (sigh) I guess…it was never a secret just something I never discussed because it hurt a lot….it’s not Broke Back Mountain it’s sort of Sprained Ankle Hill.

Sprained Ankle Hill is the name my mother gave to a humongous hill in Spanish Harlem on Lexington Ave. Many a person has been known to sprain their ankles on this hill when the streets ice up during the winter. The bottom of the hill starts at 100 street and the top ends at 103 St., as child my mother and her mom would ride their bikes down the hill screaming their lungs out.

During the next few days I will be posting my grandmother’s story in installments. It’s just too much for one sitting. I hope you’ll enjoy it and more importantly learn something from it.



Posted by @ 5:38 PM
2 comment from:  Aisha,  Mr. Khurram,