Dear Daughter,
Today seems like a tough time to be a daughter's mother, which is to say, today seems a tough time to be a 7-year-old girl. I know I tell you all the time that you have a place in this world, as a human being among human beings, and as a girl in a society that has always had, and continues to have, highly problematic ways of thinking about gender. That said, there are days when I'm forced to face the ways in which life will probably be pretty hard for you, unless things change more quickly and more radically than I have faith sometimes can happen. Today feels like one of those days.
I went to Facebook this morning and saw a picture of two "onesies" for sale at the NYU campus store. Remember onesies, those made-to-be-dribbled on, snaps-at-the-crotch outfits from when you still needed diaper-changing? You'd have been way too young, at a onesie-wearing age, to have appreciated the message "I'm super" written boldly and superhero-esque across the blue one, and would not have understood at all the message of the pink one: "I hate my thighs". But even at that young age, dear daughter, you'd have pointed to the "girls" onesie vs. the "boys" onesie, based on color alone. You'd have already begun to internalize, in ways you might not ever understand, strong societal messages about what it means to be Girl as opposed to Boy, Female as opposed to Male.
Having grappled for much of my life with self-esteem issues, it is heartbreaking to know that a garment exists which overtly portrays boys as possessing and proclaiming superhero-level self-confidence while portraying girls as leading with insecurity, body/self-loathing, and preoccupation with personal appearance. It is even more heartbreaking that these messages are on onesies, for God's sake! But most heartbreaking of all? The realization that someone(s) thought it was a good idea to make these, someone(s) else thought it was a good idea to offer them for sale in a campus store, and possibly someone, somewhere, is actually buying them.
So, my dear daughter, it is hard sometimes to be a daughter's mother. Hard to answer your questions about the NPR news item about Massachusetts legislation aimed at trying to decrease the wage gap. ("But why would men make more money doing the same thing as women in the first place, Mommy?") Hard to hear you comment, based on Disney movies and fairy tales, that "the man asks the woman to marry him, and the woman just has to wait, right?". Hard to juxtapose my parenting with years of working with women clients who are rape survivors and domestic violence escapees, clients who hate their bodies or are scared to lick a postage stamp because they're terrified of hidden calories.
Today, dear daughter, your thighs will carry you to art class, to swimming, to dance. They are part of you, but they are not where your worth resides, and it would devastate me if you ever grew to despise them. I so wish for you a kinder world context, a place more conducive to healthy self-esteem for everyone. I love your heart, your humanity, your girlness as you express and experience it. I hope you will be a change-maker. I hope if your daughter, and your daughter's daughter, were to read this, by then this post and the onesies that prompted it would make no sense to them at all.
My love goes with you always,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment