I Forbid You To Forget Me

Photography by Daniela Spector

How well do you know your parents? When was the last time you asked them questions about their life that didn’t revolve around the immediate or the mundane? We can sometimes go a lifetime without ever really getting to know the people our parents are outside of what we know about them as mum or dad. 

Photographer Daniela Spector found this to be true after her mother died. In the wake of Ermelinda’s death, known by most as Maggie, Daniela set about clearing out the objects she initially thought were the incidental things we acquire in life. But as she looked closer at these things - scribbled notes, theatre stubs, pins, knitting needles - she came to see them as the artifacts of a rich and complicated life; the life of a woman she never really knew.

Daniela has been archiving and documenting these belongings ever since, moving through her mother’s life like an archivist would, photographing, logging, interviewing those closest to her and as a result getting to know Maggie Flores the woman, not just the mother.

Can you tell us how this project started?

By complete accident.

My mom tended to hold on to things for too long. When we were younger, it was a harmless family joke that we weren’t allowed to throw anything out because mom would find a reason or purpose for it. However, as my mother got older and sicker, her desire to hold on to her possessions felt almost pathological. If we pushed her to throw away anything that she hadn’t seen or used in years, it would cause her actual distress, even if those items were broken. Maybe it was the loss of autonomy as she aged that caused her to hold on tight to everything she owned in an attempt to assert control over her life.

After she passed away, I tasked myself with the job of sifting through her belongings. Most of what I went through was useless to the family (layers of fabrics, boxes of DIY candle sets, drawers filled with grooming products that were largely expired) but important to my mom. I started to feel guilty about clearing out my parent’s room and transforming it into my dad’s room. In a fit of frustration, I went to Walgreens, purchased a white foam board, and on the floor of my childhood bedroom, I photographed a few of her things that reminded me the most of her. The process felt therapeutic and also urgent. I decided to digitise her entire life with no intended purpose, thinking, it would take me maybe a month or two, but now it’s been three years, and I hope the project lasts as long as I need it to last.

Can you tell us about who you understood your mother to be before you found out more about her through this project?

My mother was just a mother, sometimes she was a wife, and later she was a grandmother. But never a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend, an employee, a performer, an artist, an activist, an Afro-Latina, a Puerto Rican. Who she was to me was selfishly one-dimensional.

What were the surprising things you found out about your mother as you went along documenting her life?

When I started organising our family photos, I realised I didn’t have many photos from my mom’s childhood. So, I asked my dad if he knew what had happened to them, and he told me that she didn’t have any. My Abuela, (my mother’s mother) had an affair, and my mom was born with darker skin than most of her nine brothers and sisters. Colourism within Puerto Rico was (and still is) rampant, so she was sent to live with another family with dark skin like hers to avoid stigmatisation and abuse. After learning about her past, I spiralled a bit. Partly because this huge life event in my mom’s life was never spoken about but mainly because that type of event so early in one’s life likely informed how she approached the world and relationships.

What did you learn from the interviews you conducted with her friends?

These are some of the things her friends said about her (a bit mangled as I translated them from Spanish):

• Maggie was memorable with a strong personality, despite being 5 feet tall. Of course, her afro in the ’70s helped a bit. Faithful to her political convictions, she named her first daughter Fara Bunda after the El Salvadorian activist.

• Maggie was an adorable being, and she was so until her last days. In one of the last times, I was with her, I remember that despite her ailments, she never stopped smiling, having humour, warmth, and the affection she always showed for all the theatres.

• Maggie was a very good actress, even though she was a small woman, she grew on stage. Perhaps no one remembers that even when it was necessary to contribute personal money to continue with Teatro 4, she was there and never stopped. It was not necessary to ask for it, her responsibility and her dedication to Teatro 4 went beyond her personal needs.

• Maggie surpassed us with her example of life with her love for Danny and her family.

Can you tell us more about the political theatre group?

Teatro Cuatro was co-founded in the 1970s by Oscar Ciccone as part of the city’s Mobilisation for Youth program which was directed at high school dropouts. After it lost its funding the group moved to a firehouse on E. 104th street in New York where it continued as an independent organisation, supported by small grants from foundations. Their plays were political, but not always with an overt political message. The members were all anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, antiracist, and socialist. They brought their personal experiences to their work.

She had a lot of fans. Do you know why she collected so many?

Her interest in fans likely originated from growing up in the humid climate of Puerto Rico, summers in New York, and raising two kids in Miami. When I was little, I would rummage through her purse for change and it was common to find a small fan and she always brought back one or two fans after a cruise trip with my dad. She collected so many things, once she was interested in something she eventually wanted it all.

How has working on this project made you feel?

Sometimes it makes me sad when I have more questions than answers, reminding me how little I knew about my mom’s life. But mostly, I feel at peace. It’s been the most helpful way to navigate my grief; spending time with her and her memories. It’s also given me the opportunity to talk about her all the time, which I love to do, without bumming everyone out.

Do you feel closer to your mother now you know more about her?

I feel closer to the younger version of my mom right now. I’ve been working on the project chronologically (starting from the 1950s) as an archivist would approach the project, partially to remain organised but also to inform what I learn about my mom as the project evolves. 

Currently, I’m archiving the 1980’s era of her life and translating the diary she kept when she was the same age as I am now. When I have dreams about my mom, she’s in her early 30’s but still my mom.

Why do you think it's sometimes difficult to really know our loved ones?

I think the closer we are to people, the more work it is to see them fully. Like staring at your favourite painting too closely. I could tell you her favourite drink (corona beer, in a glass that was kept in the freezer so it’s frosted with a salted rim and lime) or her favourite actor (Denzel Washington, she had all of his DVD’s and only his DVD’s), or her favourite TV show (Law & Order or any network crime show), but I couldn’t describe her happiest memories or tell you her regrets. I could make guesses, but they would just be guesses. 

You can see the full project at Daniela’s site here.

Read the other stories in our LOVE edition.