Kate Halfpenny reflects on the complex emotions a mother feels watching her daughter flourish, exploring the line between pride and envy. She argues that what might appear as jealousy towards a daughter's success is actually a recognition of time's passage and a deep sense of love and inspiration.
My husband was almost teary watching our daughter thrashing the blokes in the speed skating race at a Saturday night roller disco, long hair flying above a 1980s silk jumpsuit and chandelier earrings: “She’s magnificent.” I thought the same. With interest. Was rapt that I’d put in half the genetic mix that created her strength and panache. But I was also feeling something that prodded me way past unlacing my skates.
Christ, was that … envy of my own girl? Could there be anything more unnatural than a mum who’s jealous of her female offspring? Not according to Joanna Lumley, talking recently about why her character in new comedy “Quite a lot of women, who were once pretty, when they’ve got a very pretty daughter, are jealous.” OK. I was never pretty, just had strongish features and a bust that pointed skywards, so that bit doesn’t apply. But Lumley’s point, I think, is that model material or not, there comes an age where you might look at your daughter with a complicated cocktail of pride and something that feels like “I wish I was you.” The first time I caught myself doing it, Sades and I were on a girls’ getaway in 2020. There she was, gloriously unselfconscious doing handstands in the pool, her skin carrying that glow no damn amount of expensive serums can replicate. Meanwhile, I was sucking my stomach in and wondering if it was possible to overdose on HRT. Is it jealousy that mothers have for their daughters, or something else? Now, it’s not just the physical stuff. My phone buzzes with Sades’ texts from festivals, clubs, parties. Mostly I’m home when they land, hunched over a tapestry, checking the air fryer timer, asking AI for recipes to use up the pantry’s 400 tins of chickpeas once and for all. When I look at her beautiful face, I don’t see my younger self reflected back. I see her father at her age, with those same crinkly eyes and legs for days. Perhaps I’m not just missing my youth but that whole era of possibility when both of us were unafraid and untarnished.Sadie’s building skyscrapers now, literally. My daughter strides through construction sites in steel-toed boots and hard hat, directing teams of men with the kind of authority I never had at her age. At 27, she earns more than I do and there’s not a hint of apology in her success.The list of things I love about her is pretty long: her unshakeable determination, the way she refuses to be mansplained to, her practical approach to problems. She loves hard, is loyal, funny, kind, organised, intuitive, allergic to victimhood and whingeing. So I’m hoping that when I find myself thinking maybe my favourite mini-skirts are a bridge too far, if I should have my veins looked at, what I’m feeling isn’t jealousy of my girl. It’s more nostalgia for my own 27-year-old self, that young mum who never worried if her clothes were age appropriate or if she needed to put more work into neck creams. Truth is, I love that she’s outshining me. It’s what we raised her to do. When she told me her best birthday gift this year was that her site team poured a concrete slab that had been a year in the planning, I knew the person I should be envious of is myself because I did something so right.So perhaps what looks like jealousy to Joanna Lumley might actually be a bittersweet recognition of time’s passage wrapped up in the joy of seeing our daughters at the height of their powers. Wistfulness that is the briefest ripple on the Mariana Trench of fierce love, inspiration, we feel watching them take on the world. Being their cheerleaders is a kind of youth all its own. We’re energised keeping our arms open for when they need to land. And if the price of this front-row seat is those ventriloquist doll’s lines and a stab to the heart over photos of our younger selves, that’s a deal I’ll take. The Opinion newsletter is a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own
Motherhood Daughter Envy Pride Time Success Female Relationships
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