My Mother Showers Me With Affection, But She Can’t Hug Her Own Mom

As we sat on our hotel patio overlooking the Panama Canal, my mom turned to me and said, "I could never do this with my mom." The revelation stunned me. How come my mother doesn’t have the same — or, at least, a similar — relationship with her mom than the one she’s always cultivated with me?

When I do anything with my mom, it feels like another day with my best friend. Whether we're lunching, just the two of us, or on another one of our international mother-daughter trips, we never run out of topics to discuss; there’s never a dull moment. We laugh until we cry, and we get vulnerable with each other. She accompanies me to my dance classes, and I come over for lunch most work days. When we're apart, we're on the phone. I call my mom first thing in the morning, before big decisions, with good news and bad, and for no reason at all. And we never part (or hang up the phone) without saying, "I love you" each and every time. My mom showers me with affection, a behavior she didn’t pick up from her mom. 

Just like me, my mom sees her mom at least five days a week, but their interactions couldn’t be more opposite. They’re not affectionate, and they certainly don't verbalize their love to one another. And it's not that my grandma is stoic — she’s lovey-dovey with me — it just doesn't come naturally for the two of them. The same goes for my nine tías and tíos. My mom had no idea why my grandma had trouble showing emotion. Neither did my nina, my mom’s sister. Curious to get to the bottom of it, I paid the woman in question a visit to ask for her perspective and it gave me a better understanding of her position.

My grandmother became a widow when my mother was 11. As a single mom, she focused her energy on protecting and providing a safe space for her children. But she didn’t greet them with kisses and hugs. They didn’t cuddle. And yet, when I asked her about why she wasn’t affectionate with her kids, she seemed unaware of that fact. Instead, she repeatedly stated that her children were always cared for. 

My mom's experience with her mom isn’t unique. My husband's parents tend to respond "me too" to an "I love you." I wondered if it was a Latine thing or something generational. I sat down with my father-in-law — a man of very few words — to learn about how he grew up in Jalisco, Mexico, and how it molded him as a dad raising two children in the United States. The conversation struck a nerve, with my father-in-law, Gerardo, immediately apologizing to his son with tears in his eyes. And while my husband, Jerry, and I assured him we weren’t judging or confronting him, I could sense it was something he felt guilty over for some time now. 

Jerry and I grew up in San Fernando at the same time. While my first-generation mother gave me an endless amount of affection, my husband’s dad felt worried that his son would fall in with the wrong crowd as gangs were more prevalent in our area than they are today. To keep him on the straight and narrow, he chose to be strict, instilling a slight sense of fear in Jerry. Since Gerardo lacked the resources and money to get his family out of that situation, he had no other choice but to suppress his cariño and prioritize being a disciplinarian. He did it because he cared.

Like Gerardo, my grandma was strict with my mom. She often chased away my mom's friends and never let her out of her sight. And while my mom still gets upset thinking about the times she couldn't hang out with friends as a teenager, it’s clear my grandma’s reaction was a sign of love — she wanted to guarantee her daughter was safe at home. Perhaps it was because of my grandma's upbringing. Growing up with uncles whom she describes as mañosos, she likely didn’t want her daughter in the same vulnerable position that my grandma faced at a young age. As I see it, she wanted more for my mom; she protected her, and despite not explicitly telling her daughter how much she loved her, my grandmother’s actions showed how she felt. 

Dr. Christine Coleman, PhD, a licensed marriage and family therapist specializing in the mental health of women of color, says, "As early as childhood, we are aware of what feels like love and what doesn't. We are also keen observers of signs of love that we witness others display." My mom grew up watching shows like The Brady Bunch and Leave It To Beaver, where the moms displayed a specific American Dream version of love — obviously glamorized (though less obvious to an impressionable child), deeply connected, and certainly affectionate. Who wouldn't crave this kind of relationship? 

"As parents, we likely choose one of two different pathways," Coleman says. "The first is repeating the pattern experienced, and the second is tapping into an unmet need and making a conscious effort to repattern the behavior." 

For my mom, it was a conscious decision — even before she had kids — to parent affectionately. “I knew I wanted you all to be raised differently than I was,” my mom tells me. “I wanted to send you to private schools, give you the freedom to hang out with your friends, and have an open and outwardly loving relationship with each of my kids.” My brothers and I always had plenty of hugs and kisses, I love yous, and cuddles. Even as adults, this hasn’t changed, especially for my younger brother and me who push each other out of the way to vie for her attention. 

In my grandma's defense, her situation was different, filled with challenges that my mom didn’t encounter as a parent. She raised 10 kids alone, compared to my mom who raised three children alongside my dad. While my grandma was a stay-at-home mom, my mom went to work full-time and came home to a laundry list of chores and our extracurricular commitments. She had time to miss us throughout the day. We lived in a safe area, and she could trust our caretakers, including my grandma and other relatives. My mom had the luxury of parenting without the same fears that influenced my grandma. It gave my mom the freedom to focus on the emotional side, rather than constantly disciplining us or fearing for our well-being. 

For the Latines who may have struggled to feed more mouths, settled in low-income communities with external threats, or simply lacked the resources for parenting or personal therapy, many did the best they could. It may not be that they expressed the same kind of love that my mom gave me, but being preoccupied with their children’s well-being, personal safety, and future are other love languages. 

For my mom and me, it’s getting vulnerable about our feelings and experiences, comforting each other with long embraces, and constantly reminding one another of what we mean to each other — whether on faraway trips to Central America or right here in the California homes we’ve made with each other.