Halloween for everyone else is a time to dress up, to party, to put on a mask, or to honour their passed loved ones.
For me, and my paternal family, it’s the day of my grandmothers birth. So every year I go and visit her, share some food, drink, and hear lots of her fabulous stories.
To honour her, and celebrate her gift of storytelling. I thought I’d share the story of my first bra, of which she played a part.
To tell you this, I must first give you the background. My grandmother was born in a small parish named St Thomas not far from a place called Hector’s River. And much like the river my grandma has always run deep, unwavering and following her own rhythm.
One of my oldest memories of her, was of her doing just that. Defying the conventional grandmother role, following her gut, and the wisdom learnt from her own experiences.
On this occasion, it’s was the Christmas of ‘97, and my extended family was gathered for the after-dinner present opening session – a time I treasured. I can’t lie, as a child I was spoilt, and most of my mum and dads friends either hadn’t had children yet, or their children were big teenagers, so I got extra gifts/money, and I delighted in all the fuss they made of me.
So imagine the living room carpet, floods of sparkly and shiny paper, whimsical glee of children (my cousins and sisters), laughter, and stereo blaring whatever Christmas special was on at the time. Everyone was getting Barbies, toys, clothes, books, videos etc. I had my routine polished for receiving presents.
It would start with “oh, thank you Aunty such and such”, grab the gift, shake a little and squeeze to guess what it was, open it delicately to show my gracious nature, smile back and thank them again, followed by a prompt dismissal of the gift on to present pile – so I could open more. And boy oh boy did I love this. The adults thought I was well ‘mannersable’, which ensured more gifts in the future. Such a great routine!
Anyway, I’m handed a present from my Nanny. So, of course, I start my routine, but as I catch her smile, it looks a little different. I think for a second hmmm, but who cares – another present for me, hehe. I continue opening it and great, I see 101 Dalmatians. As I continue opening, I spot the themed knickers with matching vests. Great! I thought … until I saw it.
There, hidden underneath, is a black cotton bra, embroidered with a black heart and x and an o. Before I could even react, my uncle was stood up big belly laughing. “What the hell, does she need that for”? I’d never been so embarrassed. I look at my nanny with a lofty stare, “ I like the knickers” and smiled. Then she looked at my uncle cut her eye, and kissed her teeth, pulling me close. She could see the annoyance in my face, but she grinned saying “Don’t worry you’ll soon see why”.
Later that evening, putting away all my new toys and clothes, I stared at that loathsome thing. Best believe I shoved it right to the back of my draw, deep in the right corner. “I’m never wearing that”, I thought.
Flash forward a few months, to a primary school hall, and it was time for me to do PE, and I had forgotten my kit. So my teacher told me I had to do it in my undies. This was a terrible practice of punishment through ridicule that was common in England decades ago, now thank God it’s not.
But to be honest, I didn’t feel the ridicule. I was a body-positive naive innocent child. I was all too glad to show off my 101 Dalmatians vest and knickers. I expected everyone to tell me how fabulous they were. Instead… it became the first time people gawked at my chest. Everyone kept asking what was on my chest until one boy said “titties”, and well – I’m sure you can guess the rest.
I was mortified, and so angry that I hadn’t noticed them. Where did these things come from, maybe it was last night? I got home from school humiliated, and I definitely didn’t want to talk about it. Then I remembered, that’s why nanny brought me that bra, she must have known they were coming.
The next time I saw her, I couldn’t wait to tell her what I was now wearing. I was so proud of my new bra, and the fact she had prepared me. Somehow the bra made the embarrassment alright. It became the coat of arms that would protect for a few more years of being one of only two girls with boobs.
The little life preparations, and wisdom from the women in our lives are endless. This Halloween my grandmother turns 90, she probably won’t read this, but I wanted to share a little bit of the love she gave to me through a story, just as she’s done year after year.
Happy Birthday Nanny Ivy, Love you lots x
Hammôck 