Raising A Young Woman, Part One

When I had my daughter, I had no training, no preparation, and no real idea how to parent. Yes, I had a mother, but since one of her favorite  comments was "Boys don't like girls who are too smart", followed by "Are you reading, AGAIN?" I was pretty much on my own. I spent my pregnancy reading books (Sorry mom!) and came to the conclusion that the experts were all nuts.

The first time I held her, I had an unexpected jumble of emotions...and I remember one of them vividly. I remembered looking at her face, and wondering if I had done enough to make the world better, or easier for her.  The frightening truth was...no...I had not. There was still sexism, but it wore a PC mask. Feminism had become a dirty word. To want gender equality was reduced to being a "man hater", or a "feminazi". I stopped calling myself one because it was exhausting to have to defend my views.

But here was this tiny person...who someday would grow up to be a woman. How could I help her?

I resolved that the first step would be not to project my dreams and aspirations on her. She was entitled to her own dreams. I also decided not to ever make her think that there was "girl stuff" and "boy stuff". I would let her choose. When Legos came out with sets made "just for girls", I ignored them. (They came with pink, white and purple blocks, so girls could build hair salons and boutiques. Ummm...no.) But is I was to have the courage of my convictions, my daughter's life was supposed to be about her choices...not mine. If she wanted a pink tutu, so be it. BUT...I could make other color choices available.

One Halloween, she wanted to be a Princess...another a dragon...or a unicorn. The point was not to delegate what she was "supposed" to like.  When she hit school, I was on the sidelines, making sure she understood that girls could be wonderful at math and science...and wary of any teacher who thought otherwise. The world was full of messages for my daughter. My job was to offer options, no act as a censor.

Fast forward to the present. Desi is finishing her AA this semester, and has chosen to be a special needs teacher, with a concentration in English when she transfers. You might wonder how I feel about her choosing a "traditionally female" profession. Just wonderful, thank you. I think we can all remember at least one teacher in our lives that truly made a difference to us. That took an interest, and served as mentor. We possibly also had one godawful teacher who made our lives miserable, for no good reason.

I had several wonderful teachers...and they had a hard time getting through to me...because of one BAD one. I see in my daughter not only a quick, creative mind, but empathy and the desire to give back. When she first told me she wanted to teach, She was nervous. I explained as gently as possible that teaching was a noble field...her grandmother became a teacher after serving as a WAC in World War 2, and using her GI Bill benefits to acquire not one, but TWO degrees in three years. There was NOTHING wrong with teaching.

But it gave me pause...that despite my best efforts, she thought I might be upset...even disappointed in her choice. Deep sigh. Parenting is the adventure that never ends. We project---even when we try not to. Desi grew up loving Xena, not Barbie. (She used to dress the Orc dolls from LOTR in Barbie clothes to punish them) She became a young woman, knowing the world is a little closer to equality then before...but just a little. And she knows that some day, she will also examine her own life, wondering what she could have done better.

She's getting there...and so am I.