understand how she could have sex
with a man she hated and feared. I
didn’t know how easily sex and
hatred and fear can intertwine.
I was angry with my mom. I
hated him, but I blamed her. I saw
Abel as a choice she’d made, a
choice she was continuing to make.
My whole life, telling me stories
about growing up in the homelands,
being abandoned by her parents,
she had always said, “You cannot
blame anyone else for what you do.
You cannot blame your past for who
you are. You are responsible for
you. You make your own choices.”
She never let me see us as