Tag Archives: Donald Trump

Mommy Issues – Trump and Suzy!

Happy Mother’s Day, Ladies. I hope you enjoyed your day with your mother or children – or both – as well as with aunts, cousins, friends and other family members.

At some point during the day, you may have thought about the fact that we all have Mommy issues. Yes, we all do.  Maybe today you’ve thought about your own Mommy issues. We spend a lot of time reflecting on how our mother has impacted our lives for better and worse.  We try to squash the bad… but, inevitably, it all leaks out. Doesn’t it?

This Mother’s Day, SuzyKnew! would like to share with you Politico’s article on Donald Trump’s Mommy Issues below. We’ve covered the Donald and his relationship with women a lot over the last year or so.  But, we haven’t dealt with one of the most important – if not the most important – relationship he has with a woman: his mother.

He may not have bonded successfully with his mother and that made him the adult—and the politician—that he is.


Donald Trump is easily the most psychoanalyzed president of modern times. His decision-making style and behavior have been hotly debated by journalists, voters, politicians, world leaders and pundits who have bestowed upon him any number of fanciful, grave-sounding mental conditions, calling him, among other things, a narcissist, a sociopath, a psychopath and a paranoiac. Trump has said he distrusts mental health professionals, so we don’t have access to a formal assessment of his psychology. But colloquially speaking, perhaps the best explanation for the president’s behavior dates back to his earliest interactions with his mother.

Although I’m not a psychologist, I have spent years researching a major field of psychology known as attachment theory for a book. According to the science of attachment—developed in the second half of the 20th century by British psychotherapist John Bowlby—we’re hardwired at birth to attach to a competent and reliable caregiver for protection because we are born helpless. The success or failure of this attachment affects all our relationships throughout life—in the workplace, on the athletic field, with loved ones—and yes, even in politics. Children who bond successfully with a primary caregiver—usually this is the mom but it could also be the dad, grandparent, nanny or other adult—grow up with what is termed a “secure” attachment. As adults, they tend to be confident, trusting of others, resilient in the face of setbacks, and able to enjoy long, stable relationships. Children who fail to achieve a successful attachment, on the other hand, may as adults have a lack of comfort with intimacy, difficulty trusting others, a constant need for reassurance from relationship partners, and a lack of resilience when faced with illness, injury or loss… Continue reading

Also, we would like share a few past articles SuzyKnew! has published on Mother’s Day that deal with issues with have with our Mothers.

Mother’s Day: It’s Complicated, May 14, 2017

Mother’s Day is a day when mothers can do no wrong and daughters are expected to be dutiful and respectful. But, most of all, everyone should be happy and grateful. But, we all know: Mother’s Day is complicated. Continue reading.



My Mother/My Self, My Love Life, May 13, 2012

Today, in many countries, we celebrate Mother’s Day. But, how does our relationship with our mothers influence our love lives? Our sex lives? Continue reading




Happy Mother’s Day!

Did My Ex In-Laws Vote For Trump?

It is a testament to how much I still love them that I can’t use their real names. What if they stumbled upon this and felt my descriptions of them were inaccurate and my perceptions of them were incomplete? I do not want to misrepresent them. I loved their son. I was with him for almost four years and we were as close to married as married can get. I thought my child would bear their name. I thought they would be my family forever. I thought there would be a thousand more Christmases, skiing up in the mountains of Montana, eating cheeseburger soup and singing along to a DVD of Mamma Mia. They were the first Republicans I had ever met in person. And they were the first people who humanized that political identity for me. Before them, in my mind, Republicans were this screaming horde of racist, hypocritical, Christian fundamentalists. I was horrified when I found out my boyfriend had been birthed by some. Time and again I probed, trying to ferret out some belief that would prove all I loved about him to be a lie. Time and again I tried to see if what he had told me his parents were lived in some part of him. I never found it. And when I finally met Bob and Helen I was shocked to find that most of what was good in my boyfriend came from them.

They were kind. And real. And open. And apart from this whimsical attachment to fiscal conservatism they seemed to defy every stereotype I had ever had about Republicans. They loved me. Wholeheartedly. They welcomed me into their house on the ocean and cradled me as tenderly as my own parents did. Helen wrote my mother an email on Mother’s Day to thank her for making me, for creating someone who brought out the very best in her son. Bob cooked for me almost every day and asked for so many tutorials on Ghanaian food that I bought him a West African cookbook for Christmas. They noticed when I was cold. They noticed when I was homesick. They noticed that I liked cookies and Swedish meatballs and kept those coming. They noticed that I didn’t like rhubarb pie and lutefisk, and swept them away before other relatives could pressure me to eat them.

Helen would pack me a lunch every time I was going back to California, and fill these insanely pretty bags with tapenade, blackberry cobbler, the most love-filled sandwiches, and handwritten notes. She bought me these Baltic amber earrings that I wore to my very first job interview, and this silk robe from China that I have mended three times in the past year because I cannot bear to throw it away. At the end of 2014, five whole years after I had last seen them in person, I got a concerned email asking if my family would need anything at all if the Ebola crisis happened to spill over into Ghana. Bob and Helen hated meanness and airs. They hated abuses of power. They would have drop-kicked people who treated me badly and they would have turned their backs on anyone who somehow believed that I was less than them because of where I came from. Up until November 8th I would have sworn that they’d hate Donald Trump.

But since he won and I began to understand the dynamics of why he won, and how he won, I toss and turn every night wondering if Bob and Helen, my Bob and Helen are two of the reasons why. When I sprawl out on my back I say “No, no way. They would have been horrified by the race-baiting and the pussy-grabbing and the shady business deals. They would have said, ‘Not until hell freezes over. We don’t know what “woke” means but right is right and wrong is wrong and this man is a racist.’” But then I flop onto my stomach and I start chewing my lip because I remember that time Bob asked me earnestly if it was true that pygmies were considered low-quality Africans. I remember the afternoon Helen walked in after I had taken out my braid extensions and froze at the cloud of kinky coils that formed a halo around my face. When I curl onto my side I remember how much they wanted grandchildren from me, and how firmly they would have reminded those grandchildren their son and I gave them that whiteness wasn’t a requirement for being worthy of respect and anyone who tried to demonize immigrants was wrong. I remember how both Bob and Helen grew up on small farms in Alabama and Washington and worked all their lives to become a doctor and a nurse. I imagine how much disdain they would have at the thought of a one-million-dollar seed loan from your dad. But then I pull my legs up to my chin and start to calculate what kind of tax break their income bracket will get next year and wonder whether, at any point this year, they did that math.

This to me, is the most heartbreaking thing about this Trump victory. It’s made people like me look at the people who I considered mine, with new eyes. It’s made people like me, who are fully aware of how nuanced and complex human affiliation is, wrestle with the thought that folks born in our skin were perhaps always on probation with people we believed we were fully visible to, and perhaps the allegiance with them that we had always thought was airtight was stable only because it had never had to be tested. I wonder now how often Bob and Helen saw me roll my eyes when they read or heard something bigoted and evil that Trump had done. I wonder now if I was enough to stay their hand when they were in the voting booth. Not everyone who voted for Trump is a racist but I believe that everyone who voted for him had to reconcile themselves to being okay with a little dehumanization of certain groups of people. Maybe when they looked inside themselves, excusing what they saw as the small personal failings of one man was a miniscule price to pay for shaking up a government that they believed had taken them for granted. Maybe when they looked inside themselves the view of their grievances and a world they no longer recognized obscured the faces of everyone they loved whose lives will be forever altered in this new America.

Did Bob and Helen do these mental gymnastics? Or were they steadfast in remaining the people I know and love? I don’t know. I probably never will. When a relationship ends you mourn the loss of what you had but also the death of all this possibility that existed with the person. You mourn the children you’ll never have, the awesome places you’ll never have furtive sex in, the extended family you’ve grown to love that will no longer be yours. You mourn the loss of agency in shaping your future. But if the future would have been this then I’m glad it did not come to pass. If this is the America I would have had to live in with them, with this new cloud of doubt hanging over our love, then I’m glad that I am not their son’s wife, their grandchildren’s mother and their favorite person in the whole wide world. I am relieved that I am no longer a part of their family, that I will not be forced to sit across from them this Christmas and wonder. I am grateful that I no longer have the right to call them and force them to answer a question that would reconfigure their place in my heart. It is a testament to how much I still love them that if they said yes I would bite my lip, blink back tears and still change their names when I write about them so they are not defined by one staggeringly hurtful choice.

F.N. is a thirty something Ghanaian free-lance writer who alternates between living in Accra and Washington, DC.

Photo courtesy of Independent.co.uk.


A ‘Bad Hombre’ Who Won’t Accept Losing

Okay, Ladies, the election is almost over.  After months of lies, vulgarity, and horror that have caused way too much stress, this election will finally be over Tuesday. (Or, so we hope.) But, if Madame Clinton prevails, will The Donald accept the loss? This is the big question. It would be like a bad relationship gone wrong. We’ve all suffered through a man who won’t accept losing you .

What do you do when you have a “Bad Hombre” who won’t accept losing?

A graceful exit isn’t always possible. Yes, in our world, we may be Queens and Princesses and believe our men will be gentlemanly and understanding when the relationship comes to an end. But, our world isn’t always the reality we have to live in. And, even princesses can find themselves romantically involved with toads, fools, buffoons, and idiots to name a few.

SuzyKnew!’s advice is always stay a lady when dealing with a man who refuses to let you go. But, be firm – and be safe.  We are just finishing October – domestic violence month. So Suzy knows violence can happen.  Like, Hillary we are all vulnerable to being targets of violence.

According to the Griot, five Republican politicians have called for the murder of Hillary, by hanging or gunshot. Trump supporters are openly calling for civil war, violent revolution and assassination if the GOP nominee — who may not accept the election results — loses.

So, ladies, be prepared and stay strong. Stay positive. We’ll get through this just like we got through our last bad relationship.

Photo courtesy of the Daily Beast.

What To Do With Your ‘Locker-Room-Talking’ Donald Trump Man

The Donald was exposed – yet again – as a nasty man on the Billy Bush video when he was caught engaging in what he called “locker-room” talk about grabbing women’s privates.  Men – especially athletes – came running out to announce they never engage in such dirty talk (especially about sexual assault) – even in the locker room. But, ladies, I’m here to tell you that this type of talk happens all the time – between men, and yes with women, too. Let’s not be so self-righteous. Men do brag about what they have done (consensually) or what they would like to do with a woman or think they can get away with. And, it can get graphic. And funny.

Ladies, I confess I’ve chuckled along with a few men who’ve confided in me what they’d like to do with various women. I remember a guy friend in grad school sharing with me his views on which women he thought were easy and which ones he thought would never “put out.” He said one woman “looks like she could take on a whole football team.”  Barely over 20 and inexperienced, I thought about this comment and found it hilarious. The woman had swagger and bravado. I didn’t know what a woman “who could take on a whole football team,” looked like. But, I thought it would definitely be her with her “devil-may-care,” ultra confident and ambitious, ultra sexy look. She could do one man after the other and still want more. My friend and I laughed about this for months.  My feminist self felt ashamed about laughing but my carefree self said, “This is all in fun. It’s just a joke shared between two friends.” Besides, although the man obviously had sexist views about women – he was hot!. And, I thought he was flirting with me. (Not.) I liked the attention.

Looking back on this, I think it’s too bad I didn’t have the confidence this woman had. I’m sure her confidence took her far.  (She’s probably doing more than writing SuzyKnew!)

And, I wonder what happened to my guy friend. I ask friends about him but no one has seen him. Was he able to find true love or did his insecurity and limited view of women prevent him from forming a deep relationship? Is he sitting at home thinking about all the “locker-room” talk he’s engaged in, including our conversations, feeling embarrassed about sounding like Donald Trump? Does he realize that like The Donald, he, too, may lack the temperament to be president of the United States?

He’s not alone, and we women are a part of the conversation.