My parents also strove to teach us we were strong, important, bright individuals who could do anything we could dream of. Despite having constant assurance from my parents that I was of equal worth to a boy, I felt I was less somehow. My father, uncles, grandfathers, and general male acquaintances were all incredible examples of respectful, kind, upright men. I then went on to date mostly good men and eventually married the best of them all. Sel comes from a family where his dad is one of eight kids, seven of those being boys. Every single one of my XY totting in-laws have been similarly respectful of women. They all valued women and made me feel important and loved. I am fully, sadly aware this is certainly not the caliber of men others are surrounded by. Even in my extremely blessed circumstances, I was not saved from being a victim of sexual abuse. I've talked occasionally about that on this blog, but if we are all being honest, this writing space has become a place to gush over my children. I have found so few who have not been scarred by sexual abuse and it's something I struggle with daily. I look at BOTH of my kids and my heart aches with worry that they will experience a similar, or an easily worse, experience. While visiting family this most recent trip, I discovered not a single girl on my mother's side was spared from such a thing. When my aunt shared the story of my grandmother being raped, she said something along the lines of "don't we all have a story kind of like that?". I drove away from her house sobbing uncontrollably while my loving husband tried to comfort me and my poor son tried to escape from his carseat to hold me. Her words stung because they are all too true. It's a reality that has haunted me for over a decade. How can I possibly help the thousands, nay millions of girls who are being molested, abused, and raped every single day? How can I protect my tiny two from such a fate? I don't have many answers. One thing I do know is we cannot just sit idly by letting those who have suffered cry out and not respond to their pleas for help. Reach out, step up. Be like the people that helped me. Listen. That's what has made the biggest difference for me. Sel particularly knows he often can't say much that will help when I am hit with a wave of inconsolable grief. He listens. He sits next to me, holds me, and listens. Others have done the same thing, they've listened with love, compassion and empathy. When I first heard about the march going on in D.C., I wondered what it would ultimately accomplish. I asked, "How is this going to change anything?" and I've answered my own question over the past few days. I think I can speak for all women (and men too!) that they want to be heard. We want people to listen with compassion, empathy, and love. It isn't a novel thing I'm talking about here. I often feel bogged down by the hundreds of articles out there acting like they are proposing an idea no one has ever heard of. I do appreciate the ones that leave me wanting to be a better person and try to read as many of those as I can find. I don't agree with everything marched for...but I know I will still listen to those who have something to say. I feel I often don't have many note-worthy gifts, but I'm a pretty good listener. It seems such a useless idea to help another, but those who have kindly listened to me have helped more than I could properly articulate.
Political issues rarely have easy answers. I've found the ones debated the most are often steeped in emotions and can often be black and white to some, but grey to others. I don' think I will tell them much about the venom spewed between others while contesting political issues.
There are some easy answers that I will give my children about this year though. I will tell them how loved they were. How strangers of all nationalities, race, and religion cooed over them and offered help to their exhausted mother. I'll tell them how their father held them, played with them, taught them, and loved them. I will tell them how their father helped their mother. How he valued her, respected her, and told her she was of infinite worth. I will tell my son how sweet he was when he prayed for others to "have good days" or "be safe" or "be happy". I will tell him how I saw him empathize with others even when he was different from them. I will tell them about all the little things that made up their lives and ours. I hope they will be as sweet and kind as I envision they will be. They are such loving little people right now and I hope my parenting keeps them on their natural track of goodness. While the things going on around them right now are undoubtedly important, the things that will matter most to them will be the moments happening in our home, in their development, in their family.
I know this was a random smattering of thoughts without a clear direction, but I'm not taking it back.
