Dear Catherine (1977)
By Jessica Pierotti
Credit: The Nation Archives
Dear Catherine (1977),
I read your piece in The Nation today. Congratulations on the publication, it is such a well researched investigation into the economics of Chile. Seeing it in print must be very exciting.
My name is Jessica, and I am your daughter. You are 26, I am 33. Don’t worry, I won’t be born for another 9 years. By that time you will have married, moved to England, and I will be your second child. We will live in a big old rented house ringed with lavender and bees. My older sister will come close to dying in childbirth, so you will have me by C-section. I’m sure this sounds ludicrous, but our lives take us down strange and unpredictable paths. You will never pursue marriage, it just happens. You were told by doctors you will never have children, and then in December of 1982 you’ll find yourself unexpectedly pregnant with your first. You certainly will be dissapointed to hear Reagan gets elected in ’81. You will stop pursuing journalism and move to writing apolitical nonfiction books. I wonder what pushed you over the edge. I wish I had listened more—or asked better questions.
Being a mother is hard. Being a mother that wants to have a career or a sense of self outside of the family unit, is harder. Plus you’ll be attempting to balance the two in the conservative shift of the 1980’s. Things will not shake out the way you want. You often get in your own way––being intelligent and self-aware is a burdensome talent if you don't learn to tame it. I know because I inherited this trait. I don’t think I will ever have children–the maternal instinct is not strong in me either. You will get divorced, and we will grow apart. It’s not all your fault. Mothers and children can be incompatible. I am confrontational by nature and you will do anything in your power to avoid it. We will never manage to find the middle way. Today I am writing to you,1977 you, because I think we would get along—I think if we met I would like you —I think you may even be proud of me.
Your daughters will be healthy, hardworking, loud-mouthed and stubborn. We’ll dabble in drugs and depression and bad relationships, but we always pull ourselves back out again. We are both hungry for knowledge like you are––born to research, dig, analyze and question. Our father is kind and reliable. You’d be happy to know there is someone around to support us when we need it. I used to be afraid to write. To be a writer. At first because I felt I couldn’t live up to you, then because I didn’t want to be like you. Eventually I will run out of excuses. I have spent a lot of time actively denying our common traits but I don’t want to exist in opposition to you anymore. If I’m always steering away, won’t I just end up traveling in a circle?
It’s ok that we are not together anymore. It’s ok for a relationship to simply not work. Trickle-down only works with trauma, and I’m sorry for the ways you suffered at the hands of your parents. I’m choosing to save my anger for the fascists and the billionaires and leave you to live your life as you would like.
Try to throw away your regret. It’s the only way out.
Love, Jess (2020)