A Woman Who Held On to Her Family and Herself

Government Cheese

When my mom finally got fed up with my dad’s abuse we got introduced to government cheese. A lot of other boxed or canned food showed up as well.

We were on welfare in the 1960s.

The stigma attached to all of that was quite apparent as our family still had to interact with the outside world; as small as it was in those days. Welfare was a stigma because mostly, it implied that hard-earned tax dollars, mostly derived from working men at that time, were going to deadbeat women with children, who somehow found themselves without men.

Of course, it was the woman’s fault.

But the truth is, over time the real power my mom had to gather to protect her little family was immense.

My father complained, about the money he had to pay, about the visitations he had to arrange, about the supposed evidence he was a good husband and father — let me assure you as a father and grandfather now that my dad was not.

For a long time, there was no money. And so, we were eating government cheese.

In my mind, it is not a tragedy that my mom fell out of love with my father. The real tragedy is that I did too. To this day I feel sorry for him because he could not see the gift he was given. He just wanted love and respect in ways that could not be maintained without force.

He was a biblical pupil until his dying day. He felt he was justified in his position as a “keeper of his castle.” No shit, he was adamant about that. But in the end, sadly, he died without a castle — and barely any family.

The last days of his life we gathered at his bedside and made sure he had his Bible. Whatever comforts we could provide we did as best we could. It was a sad time with so many conflicting emotions.

But during that time my thoughts ran back to my very last “visitation” with him when I was about to turn eighteen. As we traveled up a two-lane road to a lake we used to fish, he started talking. I cracked the window for the air I needed to listen.

“I tried to work out things with your mom,” he said. “I guess I must have been born in the wrong time.”

The visions of my mom shielding me and my siblings from his anger, and the times I held my mom as we both cried on the floor — all of this came rushing back to me.

“I’m glad I was born at the right time,” I silently thought.

I turned and took a deep breath of the air bleeding into the open window.

In the years to follow my dad faded away. A footnote to male dominance. Both biblical and just stupid when it comes to how women were (and still are) treated.

I have nothing against conservatism other than their apparent wish that women will remain subservient to men. It is so very apparent. To this day women are still paid less than men for the same work. Women are bypassed for promotions. Women are still shunned for complaining about unfair working conditions.

And now we have a “conservative” Supreme Court in the U.S. that is starting to strip back a large number of gains.

I can only sit here at my keyboard wondering what my mom would think.

And I think I know what her answer would be to all the moral contortionists out there who would chastise her for getting her family by.

When Roe v. Wade was decided my mom was pregnant with my little brother. A different father, who I now refer to as my dad. As much as he taught me how to respect women and how to love them without degrading them, my mom showed me what real strength is.

We were all gathered around in the living room of our new home with our new dad when the news about Roe v. Wade was announced on the evening news. Mom held her belly and said.

“Good — I think women should get to choose.”

I’m so very proud to have had to eat… Government Cheese.

For my Mom, Thelma, on Women's Day, 3/2024. ©2024 db, Darrel Boyd

This story is in response to a challenge by Rui Alves of Engage for Women’s History Month. My mom was largely silent but strong. I have tried my best to give her gifts to my daughters, and teach my son.