You’re probably going to spit at me for that title. That’s okay. I know I raise a daughter, not a son. I know that by differentiating, I am consciously embedding a divergent path for each of them. I realise that. But I realise too, that the real world does it more than I do.
That’s what I’m here to talk about. Inspired by this. Thank you Kerry.
And, simultaneously inspired by reading the news. Because I think so much has been forgotten.
We went through a princess phase. There was a stream of flouncy dresses, wands and fairytales. I had fun with it, all with the idea in the back of my head that, yes, my girl child needs to explore the very lofty notions of being a princess, for she is, indeed, a princess in my world.
But something else has happened recently. She’s moved on. She now plays with cars and Barbies, simultaneously. She’s become almost obsessive over cars, and I realise that this is particularly spurned on by a strong male force in her every day life. I probably would have flailed and failed through this phase, were it to arrive when it was just she and I at home.
That aside, I’ve always tried to endorse gender-neutral toys, and done my best to eradicate the silly stereotypes that seem to abound through the very messed up outside world.
I’ve thought about this a lot recently, as many of my darling friends produce, or are in the process of producing, sons. I’ve wondered how I would navigate this realm, and I feel a bit lost. How do you teach a boy to become a man, or a girl to become a woman?
I came down to this notion – that I don’t want to teach that. Not even a little. I want to teach humanity first.
I care very little for the notion that men should provide, and women should be swept off their feet (even though my own life has a weird 360-ish fairytale vibe to it…but nobody, aside from a select few, understand the critical and spirit-crushing work that happened to get to that point, for me). Our Shmoo is not a typical, grossly stereotyped male force, either (even though I do give him gears about picking up his socks…). You see, he’s the one who kisses the girlchild goodbye at the school gate, and is known for having a constant flow of stuffed toys or Barbie accessories in his car.
I think we do okay, with killing the stereotypes in our lives that seem to pervade so much of our society. We make no secret about how we divvy up the financial responsibilities of our lives, and we are both focused in our parenting roles as nurturers, first. But we don’t nurture the roles and expectations that society seems to think are ‘correct’. We try, very hard, to nurture humanity first.
But how do you teach humanity?
The thing about children is that they will, without fault, imitate you – usually at your worst moments. So, yes, when I am annoyingly irate at someone, my kid sees that. When I am able to give of myself, my kid sees that too. When I am strung out, and feeling quite defeated, my kid sees that. When I am overwhelmingly stoked with life, my kid sees that too.
When she was very little – I’d say about 2-going-on-3, I was forced to be incredibly honest and open with her about something. It scared the bewhatsits out of me, but it had to be done. I am grateful for that, now, more than ever. It was because I HAD to be honest about my feelings, that she learnt empathy. She learnt it was okay to “have a bad day”. She also learnt, more importantly, that it was just as okay to “have a freaking awesome day”. It was, through experiencing unexpected emotions in my own world, that she learnt empathy. She knows she can tell me the best and worst parts of her day, and she knows that she can “have a bad day” because “tomorrow will be a good one”.
Why am I ranting on about emotional states? Well, if you didn’t know…human beings RUN on emotions, or lack thereof. How we communicate them to the people around us, teaches them. And how we communicate them to our children, shows them how to navigate their own, and understand their sometimes off-the-wall-unexpected-confusion about life. I’ve noticed they do a lot of this in pre-school, where they name and associate emotions with images. I endorse that, because being able to name your emotion is 80 percent of the task of acknowledging them, and owning them.
And heck, wouldn’t the world be a better place if we just all OWNED our emotions?
I am not, in any way, immune to sulkiness, grumpiness or ratty-faced feelings. I am, quite often, impossible to live with. I’m a writer. I live in my head. Sometimes that is VERY good, and sometimes that is VERY bad. I like to believe that the good outweighs the bad. I hope it does.
So, yes, owning your emotions, naming them, and encapsulating them, brings you closer to knowing who you are, and who you want to be. Your emotions have a direct effect on your home, your life, your bank account, your work, your friendships and your appearance. They are, in essence, what make you.
It is, most times, your emotions that make you human. And if you’re human, you’re probably affected by some weird societal notion of the type of human you’re supposed to be.
There’s a negative to that, because if you just take a little gander over at news websites, you’ll discover a hugely overwhelming amount of stories where people have removed humanity from a situation and chucked a stereotypical role in to life and bam…suddenly, it’s a power game. And that power game leads to crime. And hurt. And pain. And a lack of humanity.
Humanity is defined as “the quality or condition of being human”. Through that, it is the “quality of being humane”.
I note, quite clearly there, that no boy/girl/man/woman stereotypical ideas come into it. I notice that the very essence of humanity brings no bearing to whether or not someone wears a dress, drives a car, eats worms, believes in God. I note too that humanity has absolutely no idea what colour your skin is, doesn’t care if you have two legs, three arms or five heads. I note too that humanity gives no acknowledgement of whether or not you went to a private school, shop at Edgars, drive an SUV or eat too much sugar. I also see that the very definition of humanity does not differentiate between genitalia. I find it even more telling that humanity clearly doesn’t care about whether or not you’re a woman who loves a man, a man who loves a woman, a man who loves a man, a woman who loves a woman, or someone who is not quite sure what or who they love. I notice, with intent, that humanity does not tell me who to love, who to be, or what to be, or what to do.
But it does tell me one thing – to be human. And through being human first, we are able to see the very humanity that is common between all of us, no matter who we are. And it is through teaching every child we can, to see every other person as a human first, that we can help nurture a global future that is not destroyed by stupid ideas that one person is better/more powerful than the next.
When you were born, you became a human. Please, for the world at large, for the family you have, for the friends you know and the children you will raise…
Be a human.