Strong Women

My beautiful, brilliant, spunky daughter had a fever and other various symptoms yesterday.

I stayed home with her.

I held my whimpering daughter, trying to comfort her and get her through this illness.

We aren't a television watching household, not much anyway, but the television comforted her yesterday. We watched a bit of Chicken Little, because she saw the chicken on Netflix and wanted to watch. We watched Home because of the colorful graphics.

Then we happened upon My Little Pony.

I played with My Little Ponies, Barbies, Strawberry Shortcake, Rainbow Brite, all of them. But I watched Voltron, Thunder Cats, and He-man & She-ra.

Before yesterday, I didn't know.

The first scenes of the first season of the new My Little Pony show "Twilight Sparkle" running around researching, learning, discovering. Then, she gets a directive from her mentor and teacher, "Princess Celesteia," to go to Ponyville and organize a party, oh, and stop studying so much and work on getting some friends.

Excusez-moi?

Sure, the rest of the episode and the couple that followed show "Twilight Sparkle" meeting a few supportive friends, all who have special qualities that make them good ponies.  Good, right?

But good enough? Enough to push our daughters to greatness?

I (harshly) posted about the show in a group.  The answers? Oh, give it a chance. It gets much better.

Give it a chance?

My little bitty daughter can't pick through the subtleties of a cartoon. I will find something else, something that is more obvious in its support of intelligence and inquiry.

I don't want my daughter to have to read through all of the mane tossing and giggling to figure out that what they are really talking about is that everypony has their strengths, and we can all work together, despite our differences.

Kids take these cartoons at face values. She will process very pretty little ponies stomping their hooves, tossing their manes, giggling, and going on about their business.

What's wrong with that?

Everything.

When my son watches what are clearly "boy" shows, does he see characters telling each other to stop studying? No, he says Dino Dan exploring, through study and scientific experiment, what dinosaurs can do.  He grabs his friends, including girls, to go experiment with him. No one stops him, least of all a teacher, to suggest he go play some baseball and have some fun, instead.  Instead, the teachers and parents make learning fun - they let Dan explore his passion and interest through art, experiment, and more.

On Octonauts, the characters help each other, those around them, and there's nary a hair flip.  Dashi and Tweak (name aside...) are key parts of the team, with Dashi documenting and researching new sea creatures and Tweak engineering the ship and developing new techniques.  They make study and academics something normal and expected rather than something to do less of.

It's clear that I'm not a "girly girl." I do love pink, and I have a huge collection of colored pens and patterned leggings.  But I have never once used flirtation to get my way - I wouldn't even know where to begin. That's neither my strength nor my style.

And I'd rather it not be my daughter's style either.

As a teacher, I've watched countless girls bat their eyes, smile, and expect to get their way, either with teachers or other students. And it makes me cringe.

Women should be able to get what they want, what they need, on their own merits.

Women should not have to hide their intelligence behind beauty.

Sure, women can follow fashion, fix their hair, and be the most brilliant people on earth.

It's when they do all of these things and still say, "I don't know..." and shrug cutely, when we all know they have the answer, that we have a problem.

My mother taught me better than that.

I have dealt with my fair share of, "Oh, just smile and laugh it it off."

In one instance of sexual harassment at work was told, by three female supervisors, to, and I quote,"Giggle and look away." Have my male peers been given the same directive?

No.

I want more and expect more for and from my daughter than giggles and flirtation to hide her intelligent mind.

I love that, so far, the girls my son admires most are fierce, intelligent, and vibrant.  He gets it. He is drawn to strength.

I believe that strength resides in owning our intelligence, in proving that femininity and womanhood need not be defined by simpering flirtation.  Yes, there is strength in love, in kindness.  But when women set aside their intelligence in favor of appearance, they reveal only weakness.

I want to cultivate strength in my daughter, my son, and my students.

Be smart.

Be brave.

Be kind.

And let us see all of it.

Human Rights: What I Mean When I Say I'm Pro-Life

Today, I attended a Women's March.

For the first time.

Surrounded by over 4,000 people in the city where I choose to live, I got chills.

Growing up, the word "pro-choice" was a bad word in my house.

In my adult life, with the friends I have chosen, it's "pro-life" that has become the dirty word.

So, how do I reconcile the two seemingly divergent roads of thinking?

During my homeschooling days, we prayed the rosary in front of Planned Parenthood.  We packed up supplies every Christmas to donate to the local pro-life center.

We would go back to school, and several of the boys, one in particular, would harass and tease me.  "Boys will be boys," I was told.  And I was left powerless. These same women who are shocked and appalled that I march for women's rights did not care at all for my rights.

I refuse to frame being pro-life as only about the unborn.

When I say I'm pro-life, I mean from conception to death.  I mean that we protect the unborn by supporting their mothers. I mean that we protect children from abuse and bullying. I mean that I am against the death penalty.

Beyond that, I believe in action, in changing the way we view choosing life.

A family friend commented on this photo of my son. She expressed her dismay, her disappointment, her heartbreak.  She said I should know better.

I do know better. I know that women's rights means so much more than abortion, and I am proud that my son stood with me during our first women's march.  We stood for HUMAN RIGHTS.

A few months ago, on Facebook, of  course, I got into a long debate with someone about Planned Parenthood vs. Pro-Life Centers.  While we could not ultimately agree on larger issues (which I never expected us to), we could agree that Planned Parenthood did not, in our shared knowledge, offer support for pre-natal care and other resources that actually support the choice of life.

We need to do more.

I come from a place of privilege

I am privileged. I married a man I love, and we decided when and how to have children.

Another privilege? My mom told me early and often that she would support me, no matter what.

While it's laughable, looking back at my high school photos, to even imagine that I would have had sex and gotten pregnant. I always know that my parents would support me, would help me raise a child.  I felt safe in that knowledge.

When women face an unplanned pregnancy, whatever the circumstances, they are afraid. Pure and simple. What will it mean for their lives? Their dreams?

For me, having children was the dream. That is not true for everyone.

Without naming names and pointing fingers, I can say that the pro-life organizations I worked with for over a decade, while well-intentioned, did not have the funding or the mindset to provide resources beyond clothing and food. That is something, and it is more than what abortion clinics provide when a woman chooses life. But it is not enough.

I would not vote to repeal abortion rights laws.

That's not what I mean when I say I'm pro-life.

Instead, I want to work to make life a real choice.

To truly empower women to choose life, we must offer childcare so that they can work or continue their education. We must provide assistance so that teen moms can complete their high school education and find a way to move on to careers and college.

In grad school, I worked on a project to build the college and career library at one of these centers. Though they had never considered this idea before, they welcomed the change. Collaborating with the public library where I worked at the time, we found free and low-cost ways to populate these libraries.  Ten years out from the project, I have no idea if it continued, or if the volunteer counselors even used those books when meeting with their clients.

As a librarian, I created an outreach program with a program for teen mothers at our local continuation high school. We designed a story time program to help the moms work with their children on literacy skills, because helping women facing unplanned pregnancies means more than handing them diapers and formula.

Choosing life in an unplanned pregnancy should not effectively cut women off from their dreams. What comes after they choose life?

What do I believe?

I believe in supporting women to achieve their dreams, regardless of their reproductive plans.

I believe in keeping children safe for all of their lives.

I believe in bully prevention programs and in talking about bullying at schools and at home, rather than dusting it away and giving bullies permission to ruin lives.

I believe in sex ed.

I believe in state funded daycare and preschool.

I believe in public school.

I believe in grants and scholarships that go beyond athletics.

I believe in funding social programming to at least attempt to get everyone on an equal playing field.

I believe in supporting life at all levels.

That's what I mean when I say I'm pro-life.

And that's why I marched.

I Will Speak

We live in an oddly politically correct time.  We are supposed to respect everybody's everything but not ever talk about it. Don't ask questions. Don't wonder. Don't talk about it. It shouldn't matter.

Some of the discussions are newer, raw, fresh, others are re-circulated Huffington Post Articles telling me not to ever talk about my daughter's body. Each article captioned, in a post scrolling by on my feed, with "This."

I think it's not so much THAT we talk about these topics as HOW we talk about these things.

As a daughter with a body, myself, and especially as one who was naturally prone to never speak about anything having to do with my body, I am forever grateful that my mom encouraged me to talk, encouraged me to cry, to rejoice, helped me get help when I needed it.  If she hadn't first encouraged me to talk, in the first place (even if I felt all...cringy...about it), I would never have told her that there was something very wrong when I was in college.

I will speak to my daughter about her body.

Dear N,

I promise to talk to you about your body.

When you first arrived in the world, I wrote down some thoughts, and I realized I would have to do some work on myself in order to show you how to respect and treasure your body. Mimi started that process with me, and it's a long journey, one I hope will be less treacherous for you.

Times have gotten even stranger, and I have found myself in the midst of those who say I should never talk to you about your body, compliment you on the splendor that is your magical, beautiful body. I promise you that I will not listen to them. I honor your body, and not only because I grew it inside my own, but because it is my responsibility as your mother to keep you healthy.

If you gain or lose weight, I will comment. I will want to know why - is this because you are growing and changing? If your skin changes, if your hair is less shiny, if your skin is bruising...Is this because you are ill - emotionally, physically, or something in between.

If you become a swimmer, a dancer, a gymnast, a runner, an athlete of any kind, I will speak of your grace, of your incredible strength.

If you decide otherwise, I will admire whatever way you choose to release the power contained in your body.

I will speak of your body so that you know never to feel shame for your height, weight, skin color, breasts, muscular legs, or any of the thousands of features people will judge. I will speak of your body so that you know that I respect that you walk in this world with me, that you are a mind and a body and a soul, that your body has such strength.

I see it already, in way you place your foot, in the swing of your hips.  You are fire.

I see it in your flips, in the way you run, in the way you leap from my arms in the pool.

You delight in movement.

You cannot help but move when you hear music. You bring the toys that make noise to us, begging for them to be turned on so that you can move, yet again, to the dancing flower singing, "I Want You Back."  You turn, you twist, you change direction. You smile. You laugh. You find joy in having control of your body.

And I admire it. I admire your comfort in your own skin, even at such a young age.

I will speak of this as you get older. I will remind you of your freedom, should you forget it. I will help set you free if the world locks you down. I will tell you that your body is a beautiful creation, God's work, His temple, there for you to honor Him and also for you to enjoy. Work your magic on the world, darling girl.

I will speak about your body.

You deserve to hear that your body exists and deserves to be complimented, honored, praised. If someone treats you wrong, or if you want to talk about a change, an accomplishment, a concern, a triumph. I want you to know that you can talk to me, that your body is always a possibility in our conversations.

You are much more than your body, but your body is an extension, an expression of your spiritual, emotional, and physical health, and I promise to notice it and help you keep it so very strong.

I love you beyond all measure.

Mama

My Body, This Body, Her Body

This week, I am participating in Beyond The Clothing's Blog Link-Up, #mybodythisbody

To My Newborn Daughter,

I know that you're very much your own person. Even at three-and-a-half weeks old, it's clear you have your own wants, needs, passions, and that you are not your brother.  What you are, though, is the spitting image of me.

I'll be honest,brave girl, I never expected to have a mini me.  You see, the genes are strong with your father's side of the family.  Your brother is the living, breathing duplicate of your daddy, and I expected you to be the same (well, more like the living, breathing duplicate of your G.G., since she's the female version of your daddy).  But, here you are, looking just like me.

I'm gonna have to pull it together.

I've always had a love/hate relationship with myself - with my personality, with my face, with my body, with all of it.  And, for you, I need to turn that entirely into a love relationship.

All of the role model women in my family have, at times, openly hated their looks, and that needs to end with me.  I know there will come a time when you feel awkward or when you wonder why all the other girls seem so much more comfortable in their own skin, but I refuse to let you learn that from me.

Oh, wise child, I was going to apologize for the awkward years that I know are coming. Perhaps they will be bean-polish like mine, or curvy too early like Mimi's, but whatever they are, they will be beautiful.

Other women have written about not telling their daughters they are beautiful, because beauty is prized too highly. Oh, my sweet, you will be brilliant, but you can also shine.  There is nothing wrong with beauty, as long as there is balance in its praise. Not only are you beautiful, you are beauty itself.

Song of my heart, you kicked your entire way into this world. You rolled onto your side at five days old; you are STRONG.  Never forget that your body is a gift. God blessed me with the chance to have you grow inside of me. I felt your kicks (those round house kicks that made me even more ready to meet you).  I paused for your hiccups.  I cared for my body in new ways - keeping up with good food, vitamins, and exercise, so that you would grow. 

I crave that you will use your strength, that you will use your body to run uphill, against the wind, or your breath to play the trumpet while you march.  Whatever you choose, I want you to know that your body is a powerful thing.

My body has changed over time, as yours will as well, but my body changed because of you. I love it more now because it held you and your brother.  I am proud of what my body has done. I am comfortable in my own skin, and I pray that you never see me any differently. I pray that you learn to love yourself right from the start.

I love you. I love all of you. I love my body for having made you.

Love,

Mommy