Throughout my childhood, I always had the mistaken idea I wanted to grow up and not be stubborn like my mother and grandmother. They always seemed so argumentative. My grandma hated to take any sort of suggestion she didn’t come up with herself. It seemed my mother and grandmother were always disagreeing and it took us way longer to make decisions than other families because they always had to be so stubborn about their own sides. I decided I wanted not to be stubborn at all.
I remember the fights that we usually had during Christmas and birthdays at my grandparents’ house when I was growing up. This is how it went down:
“No, I do not need any help with the gravy. I want you to sit down,” my grandmother said. She doesn’t need help with anyone.
“Now, mother, we came to help as well as to eat,” said my mom, who I could tell was getting exasperated, a voice ensured of its righteousness.
“I think we should open presents before we eat because I can’t wait,” says a younger more excited voice, equally ensured of its righteousness.
“No,” says the first exasperated voice, “we are not going to open presents and you are not going to help me.”
“Now Mother—,”
“C’mon, I wanna--”
“Nooooooooooooooo.”
I guess that some families have a gene for red hair or a gene for brown eyes. In my family there is a gene for stubbornness. I am certain it’s hereditary. We all have it:
My grandma will never get on a plane. She won’t wear shorts. Rush Limbaugh is always right and NPR is the station for liberal whackos. She says she absolutely is not stubborn.
My mom always says “I don’t know who is more stubborn you or your grandma.” She never includes herself. NPR has no political leanings, they simply have the best news stories. Her way is always best.
Turns out, my childhood wish didn’t come true. I am more stubborn than either my mother or my grandmother. At least I’ll admit it. Growing up, I discovered not wanting to be stubborn was just plan wrong. I think my stubbornness can often be my strength. I can prevail if I’m stubborn enough to believe in my convictions. Now, for the most part, I want to preserve my stubbornness.
Being stubborn gives me more confidence. I am slower to evaluate criticism, so it allows me to preserve some sort of confidence. I like to discuss things. I recognize that I like routines and sticking to them. I think sometimes that my youthful stubbornness has turned into a solid system of values and convictions. I feel like I’ve made up my life for myself.
But sometimes plain old stubbornness gets in my way. People say I refuse to listen to them. I’ve gotten into plenty of fights with significant others who think that their way is the best way and absolutely will not back down. Even if their way is the best way. Often, I can’t stand being proven wrong.
They say that you can’t help turning into your mother. My mother has turned into my grandmother. And, as I near the old age of 24, I think I’ve done the same.