Leadership as a Matriarch
Lessons From My Foremothers
I come from a line of women who had endearing Texas nicknames. My great-grandmother, “Ganie,” died when I was five years old. My grandmother, who we called “Sutter,” when I was 27. Five years ago, my mother, “Sunny,” died. I still miss these women who went before me so deeply sometimes that my heart feels like it will fall out of my chest. Each one of these women had her time as the matriarch of our family. Now, that role falls to me. This isn’t something that sits easy with me, but I am acutely aware of this new role, especially during the holiday season when I’m in charge of filling the Christmas stockings, organizing the holiday food, buying plane tickets, and booking hotels.
Ganie was a community builder, and she opened the first bank in Ruidoso, NM when she got tired of keeping her one-dollar coins in coffee cans. She always had grandkids and great-grandkids around. She and my great-grandfather “Big Daddy” built a family cabin where we all can still go–now there are more than 60 of us that share it. She brought people together for big family breakfasts with homemade biscuits, games of “Pounce,” and gave us all roots.
Sutter was a cook, a handworker – sewing and knitting beautifully, a home economics teacher, and a big sister who always put family first. She had a sense of beauty and style in the pieces she created and generosity that fostered depth and steadiness. I used to call her as a college student and ask her for substitutions for my baking recipes. She was always quick with an answer, and she helped me become a very creative baker. I love making up my own pancakes on Sunday mornings now because of what I learned from her. She and her siblings farmed together in West Texas their whole lives.
My mother, Sunny, was a hoot. She was a big personality full of joy. She made time to know all the children in the extended family and loved to play games with them. She would play slapjack and hearts, but she was a shark at bridge. She loved board games and a weird game called “ Wire, Brire, Limber, Lock” that she played with their fingers. She always had a smile and loved people and loved to look at pictures of children, boyfriends, family trips, and almost anything. She was ready to be a part of everyone’s life. She lived in New Mexico for many years and never lost her Texas accent. She loved weird things like mustard and peanut butter sandwiches and excelled at being different. She had multiple sclerosis from high school on. She used a cane, but it never slowed her down. She had deep compassion, and she was there with hundreds of people who found themselves grappling with their own MS diagnoses. She helped so many people and was deeply kind.
For me, being a matriarch is a leadership role that has deep meaning and possibility. Being a matriarch has the same challenges of loneliness I see many leaders face. It is lonely sometimes to see the big picture. I know I have to find my own way to be the matriarch in my own family of three grown children. I think I am a little like Ganie, a little like Sutter, and a little like Sunny. I am the planner of gatherings, the arbiter of relationships, and the patron of the arts in the way that I support my children with music lessons, asking them to play for us at gatherings, and gift them instruments that are both beautiful and challenging. I find myself the keeper of joy in the way that I plan really exciting vacations. This year we will be hopping in a mini-van for a classic family road trip to the Grand Canyon and then on to Palm Springs for New Year’s. I love to organize and plan adventures that bring us together.
My children are now all adults, and I once thought my motherhood role would end as they moved into adulthood. But that hasn’t been the case. They don’t need me the way they used to, and while some of the day-to-day parenting is wrapping up, my role as matriarch is ramping up.
A parent’s job is to look at the best interests of the child. The matriarch’s is to look at the family as a whole. I no longer just consider our immediate family but the relationships with the larger family–my aunt, cousins, brother, nephew, in-laws and how we can maintain the same sense of roots that my foremothers created for me.
You see, being a matriarch is a leadership role. It is considering the best interests of the family with a long timeline in mind. What kind of shape will family finances be in after I am gone? How will the relationships between my children remain loving and solid over time? In this leadership framing, my best interests fade away, and the best interests of the whole become paramount.
Now, I think of how harmony will exist during the holidays instead of what will only make me happy. I think of how we can meet the most needs in our gatherings and activities rather than doing what I want. I think of how we can make collaborative decisions so we have the most buy-in for our gatherings and events.
This year, when I think of the holidays I am seeking joy for us all. I hope you experience this joy as well in your own families. Let’s face it, the holidays aren’t easy for a lot of people. But perhaps there are small ways we can make it easier, like focussing on spending special together instead of on elaborate presents, on leaving the the kitchen martyrdom of the previous generations behind and making meal prep and clean up a family affair? I am thinking of a classic chore chart this year!
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