Months later, Edith stood in my living room looking at the Philadelphia harbor and noted that Diane still thought the worst part was the embarrassment. “What was the worst thing?” I asked.
“She learned you were never the weak one,” Edith replied.
I realized then that while some women inherit money or names, I had inherited the moment I stopped letting others define what belonged to me. My mother thought she was orchestrating a transfer of property, but she never understood that she was actually transferring the power she had used to hold me down.
