Cultural anthropologists tell us that Americans focus on the individual. However, most women maintain an identity that is at least partially relational. Women need to know where they belong in relation to others, especially the women in her family. What is under discussion is the maternal line, discounted by those obsessed with patrilineal ancestry. Despite the secondary importance of maternal lineage in societies that value male offspring, having a matrilineal history is comforting to a woman.
This relational identity may be a reflection of our genetic history. Bryan Sykes, in his book
The Seven Daughters of Eve, describes the unbroken and unchanged inheritance of mitochondrial DNA (mDNA) that can be traced back from daughter to mother—all the way back to first daughter of Eve, who becomes the mother of a unique genetic lineage. In his book, Mr. Sykes employs an unusual convention for non-fiction. The first part of
The Seven Daughters of Eve consists of factual accounts of DNA, mitochondrial transmission, and examples of anthropological and archeological evidence for each era. In the second portion of the book, he uses the factual accounts he has established and writes seven fictional vignettes based on each ancestral mother. It is that model I will employ here to examine the terminus of the maternal line.
What happens when the lineage is severed? Connection with the past is betrayed. Links to the future dissolve. The unfortunate woman who fails to pass the mDNA to a daughter is caught at the open end of a fast whirling crack the whip game where the last one will most surely be cut adrift. Genetically, she is the terminus of her maternal history. She is cast off, alone, with no hands to hold.
What follows is the story of the last one of her mDNA lineage. It is the story of Jean and her only daughter, Maisey. Maisey died as an adult almost a dozen years ago. Jean has no hands to hold.
Maisey was hell on wheels to raise. She was extremely bright, assertive, artistically gifted, and defiant. Her exceptional intelligence kept her on the safe side of things, but just barely. The teenaged Maisey hated her mother, probably not without cause.
Because of her high aspirations and intelligence Maisey managed to get accepted to a top tier college where she graduated with honors. Accustomed to living away from home she couldn’t wait to move out and be on her own after graduation. Soon she married a man her parents considered an unsuitable partner. Too independent and proud to ask for help, Maisey worked two jobs to pay for graduate school while managing a home. When she had successfully completed her master’s degree, she began a successful career as a consultant in an internationally recognized firm. Not content with her accomplishments, Maisey started to work on a Ph.D.
As the years went on, the emnity between mother and daughter dissolved. The once deadly enemies became friends. Their friendship was based on mutual respect and love. Both women had matured. Jean could finally say that the Maisey of old had “turned out really, really well.”
When Maisey and her husband purchased their first home, Jean planted bushes and flowers in Maisey’s garden when her daughter was too busy with work and school. Dad mowed the lawn. Jean wallpapered her daughter’s house while Dad did repairs. Maisey, herself, would tackle any job. She and her Dad remodeled the bathroom. Maisey took on the entire ceramic tile floor by herself. Parents and daughter established a close and mutually respectful relationship.
Often Maisey initiated activities. Maisey would drag Jean to antique stores where the daughter, who had a good eye for such things, usually found a treasure. On Sundays Maisey and her husband would come to dinner. While Dad was clearing up, Maisey and Jean settled on the couch to watch their favorite TV detective. Of course, a back rub for Maisey was always on the schedule. They always argued about whodunit and discussed a mystery they would write together. Maisey had the talent; Jean the background. They would begin just as soon as the Ph.D. was finished—only one class and her dissertation remained. Those were good years. If only Jean knew how precious and short they would be.
The phone call came after 10:30 in the evening. Jean was in the shower when her husband called to her. Word had come from a distant state. Maisey was dead: sudden death: far from home: alone. It is not something you willingly believe. On the previous day they had celebrated Maisey’s birthday. Five days later Jean and her husband would experience the heartbreak of burying their beloved daughter. This was a nightmare from which Jean would never waken.
Escape remains impossible as the quotidian activities of life intrude. Jean watches as the laughing mother and her daughter shop together for shoes. In a local restaurant she sees a mom treating her daughter to lunch. Jean longs to be like friends and relatives who can care for their daughter’s children, and who are honored in their daughter’s homes. As she and her husband age there is no daughter to say, “Sure, I’ll drive you to the doctor’s office, Mom.”
Jean cannot escape wanting what she can never have—simple, normal family relationships. Each time she sees the shoppers, diners, grandchildren, she loses Maisey all over again. How many times must Maisey die! The pull of mDNA is relentless. Jean no longer belongs.
Envy and disappointment are ever present. This creates guilt as well as a gulf in her relationships. While rejoicing in other’s good fortune, the bitter taste of disconnection sometimes intrudes. In
As You Like It, Shakespeare wrote, “O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes!” Jean knows that unpalatable envy and bitterness are impossible to escape. Ancient links have been severed. Jean is adrift. She has no hands to hold.
