As a female, I have always thought that parenting a girl
would be so difficult. I mean, the emotional swings alone make it hard to imagine
how my mother made it through my teenage years. I delivered my second boy three
months ago, after being absolutely certain I was pregnant with a girl.
(Obviously, not certain enough!) As I sit here tonight and watch coverage of
Donald Trump’s first week in office, my two boys are fast asleep beside me.
And, I can’t help but think…this man is going to make me a better mother.
Months ago when the whole “grab ‘em by the pussy” video
emerged, I was horrified. Now, I have been around plenty of guys in my
lifetime, so I know this way of talking is not unique to our new president. I
have been cat-called, pushed up against a wall and a tongue shoved into my
mouth, compared to the cheerleaders at a basketball game by a client (as he
tried to picture what I would look like if I were wearing what they had on) and
called “Michelle” by a guy who used to come into the restaurant I worked at
because I “looked like his dead girlfriend.” And those are the incidences off
the top of my head. So, I know a thing or two about how men talk in “locker
rooms” or at fraternity houses. But this was different. It was coming out of
the mouth of a man who was seeking the most powerful position in the world.
Someone who, if elected, would represent me as an American. Someone who would
be on television all the time, making it quite possible my sons would see and
hear him. And, why the hell should they not? I mean, I shouldn’t have to worry
about my sons seeing the president of his country. Should I?
But then I really started thinking. About my friends who are
raising girls. And I thought how hard it is going to be to raise them around
this kind of behavior. How to keep them strong. Assertive. Impervious to
pressure. And then I realized something that shook me to my core. It is not
THEIR responsibility to raise girls who can say no. It is MY responsibility to
raise boys who don’t give them something to say no to. The weight of that
responsibility crippled me at first. Honestly, it still does a bit now that the
grabber is, in fact, our president.
But, mostly, it inspires me. There is something I can do to change the way women are
treated. How they are thought of. How they are talked about.
Today I have two young boys who see -- every day -- a father
who treats their mother with respect. Who shares every single household
responsibility. Who is an equal partner. Whose work is not more important than
mine. Who speaks to me with kindness. And they see men all around them in our “village”
doing the same. But as they grow older, the observation will no longer be
enough. We will have to talk openly and honestly with them about everything:
sex, drugs, consent, appropriate language. We cannot hope they will learn it
from others or that they will have picked it up from watching us. We need to
hold them accountable for their actions and their words, and raise them with
the ingrained belief that every single woman (every human, really) should be
treated with respect and kindness.
I hate where we are as a country right now. The man that
sits and sleeps in the white house makes me sick. The fact that he made it there
makes me even sicker. But, without the light shone on the darkness of our
culture, people like me would likely be stuck in our own worlds where we
believe that sort of thing doesn’t, or won’t, happen. But, the truth is, it
can. And will continue until people stand up and do something about it. So I’m
raising my voice. And I’m raising my sons in a way that (I hope) they will
never be like him.
Maybe -- just maybe -- something good will come out of this.
I know I’m going to work my ass off to do my part to see to it.
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