Honoring Mothers' Day and the passing of Mildred “Mum” Haynes (February 18, 1921 - April 16, 2009) [originally posted 5/6/09]

"...whether you have actually birthed a child or not, the biological process that we call “pregnancy” is hardly a sufficient condition for claims of being a mother, nor is it even a necessary one..."

Dear friends,

We are all familiar with the longstanding adage: Behind every great man is a great woman. But that woman, as it were, is not always a wife or “soul mate”. In other words, she can be a mother, aunt, sister, daughter, or even a female cousin, in-law, or friend and colleague, as well.

Moreover, sometimes, a person can serve a role in your successes in life that are not easily discernible. This often happens in the lives of parents, because we are sometimes unaware of the contributions that others have quietly made to the progress of our offspring, since such folks are acting out of genuine love and expecting nothing in return, so they don’t bother to remind us of what they have done for us.

Beginning in my early childhood and lasting throughout my adult life until now, Mildred Haynes, the wife and lifelong partner of the late and great Cameron Vincent Haynes (who passed in 2003) and mother to my lifelong and oldest friend, Kenny Haynes, played a consistent role as my second mother. And the range of that role, both emotionally and intellectually, was as wide as that which my own mother has and continues to play. That is, from the look at me of disappointment to the glee and supportive words of encouragement, Mum, as I call her (just as all four of her own children do) reached into herself and showed real love and concern for me as a child, and, into my older years, as an adult.

While there are many examples, I have two specific incidents that occurred between us that I have never shared with any other person before now. I have never talked about them to my mother, my father - who I knew briefly during my late teenage years, a single one of my siblings or friends, neither of my first or second wives, or any of my children. The first incident happened during the summer of 1971. It was a hot day in July. I was going through some serious life changes at the time. Having spent the past couple of years as a very active member of the Black Panther Party, I had just only a few weeks or so earlier left the Panthers.

Now, I must say that a couple of my very close friends had informed me over those two years that their mothers et al. had told them to stay away from me, because I was a Panther (please recall that the F.B.I.’s J. Edgar Hoover had called us the number one threat to internal security in America) Yet, I always felt welcome in the Haynes’ house and around all of the family members. After all, they had known me ever since I was about eight years old, when I anxiously joined the Cub Scout troop of Vinny Haynes (who I called always “Pop”, beginning in my early adult life). Also, growing up, I had gone on trips with the Haynes family, from Boston to New York City. Again, my activism in the Black Panther Party did not affect their relationship with me one bit.

But here I was, on a hot July day in 1971. I had another friend with me. We stopped by the Haynes’ old house on Haskins Street, in the Roxbury section of Boston, Mass. After speaking briefly to Mum, my buddy and I went upstairs and hung out with Kenny, for about an hour or so, listening to music and rappin’ with each other. As my other buddy and I were leaving, with him stepping outside first, I turned to say goodbye to Mum as she started to walk up the stairs to the second floor of the house. She stopped and looked at the brown paper shopping bag that I held in my hand. I already had the bag in my hand when I first came in the house. But, apparently, she had funny vibes about the bag. So she glared into my eyes. Many thoughts were running through my mind at that point. I had never seen that look on her face before – or since. She said nothing. The two of us had ours eyes locked into each other’s and we were in a kind of Twilight Zone that lasted for about ten seconds. She looked angry and disappointed, but she also transferred the idea and feeling to me that she knew that I was better than that. I was embarrassed. And I was ashamed of myself. She turned and continued upstairs and I walked out of the house.

As I said earlier, this is the very first time that I have shared that experience with anyone. I was 17 years-old then. In the coming years, I would take some very positive steps towards returning to and maintaining my social activism as well as enhancing my scholarship, building a family and having a productive future for myself, my family, and my community.



Additionally, while I moved from Boston in 1978, when boxing legend Joe Frazier brought me to Philadelphia and signed me as a professional boxer, my friendship with Kenny and the rest of the Haynes family remained just as strong. When I moved back to Massachusetts in 1987, I settled down with my own family of a wife and three children in Amherst. Whenever we visited Boston - which was only once or twice per year, because it is 100 miles away, almost always, we would be sure to stop by Perrin Street and see Mum and Pop Haynes. And so my/our children grew up knowing them.

In any case, one day, during the early-Nineties, I called their house in order to see whether or not Pop had received copies of some published articles of mine that I had sent to him. Mum answered the phone that day. She told me, gleefully, “Vinny’s not here, but he got your package”. Then she said something that no one else who has known me since my early childhood, except my own mother, had ever expressed to me. She said, “You finally found something that you like.” She continued, “You’ve tried everything. Now you have something that you really like doing.” She was talking about my writing, of course.

I found Mum’s observation to be incredibly profound. While it has never been much of a source of income for me, writing has been one of my primary passions. Certainly, more than anything else, as an artist, a writer wants to be “read”. So I am overjoyed that the appreciation for what I have to share is revealed by the fact that on any given day, this blog, Djatajabs.com, that I only started 10 months ago, is being read worldwide, by people in 39 (now over 80) countries (not including the US) - and growing, daily. My motivation is in no small part due to the encouragement of loved ones like my Mother ad Mum Haynes.

So on this day that we honor mothers, even though I will no longer be able to, as I occasionally did, send cards or flowers to this great woman, Mildred “Mum” Haynes, those like me who have had the personal fortune of actually receiving her care and concern - her love - will acknowledge her too. Additionally, as Mum made it so clear to me long ago, if you truly love your own children, then you must love your neighbors’ children as well. For it is only through our relatedness to others that we can love at all, which includes the capacity for us to love ourselves.

Moreover, as Mum proved with her deeds, whether you have actually birthed a child or not, the biological process that we call “pregnancy” is hardly a sufficient condition for claims of being a mother, nor is it even a necessary one. Rather, only by actively engaging in and sharing the power of love with others, regardless of blood lines, is a person then able to recognize the interconnectedness between love for one’s self as well as other people and things that will help the latter grow.

No, Mum has not died. She has simply passed into another form of existence. And her contributions will continue to be played out, in an oh-so-subtle fashion. That was her style.

Finally, at least to me, it seems that, unless she is a celebrity of some sort, when a woman passes, there is not much fanfare as when a man ceases to exist in the living form. Yet, all of that has to do with Male Supremacy which must be abolished from all human societies as does White Supremacy (that affects less people, but is equally despicable).

Besides, men started it (i.e., the battle of the sexes). Consequently, it is we who must end it. Men must stop hiding behind our insecurities and illusions, and accept the fact that the human race is made up of groups of individuals who all have strengths and weaknesses of some sort and, as a result, in that context, we are all equals.

So to whom are you grateful today? To be sure, it is easy to find excuses to be angry with your parent(s). As a matter of fact, excuses are like unpaid bills; that is, you can always find one. Nevertheless, on her 75th birthday, nine years ago (now 12 years), after giving her a small celebration, along with Tia, the youngest of my two daughters, as I walked out of the door to her apartment, I exclaimed to my Mom, “Thanks for bringing me into this world!”

In any case, today, I must “Holla!” - Happy Mother’s Day!!! – to all females who have mothered other people or even non-human animals, whether you birthed them or not.

Cheers!

G. Djata Bumpus