THE F-WORD AND THE B-WORD

As anyone who deals closely with female children knows, young girls can be difficult. There isn’t a whole lot of “sisterhood” in upper elementary school, it’s more “survival of the fittest.” And Z is fit, oh yes, very fit.

Accordingly, that social piece is not a big fear for me, which is nice because for Spectrum Child Sr. it’s worrisome enough for two. But some of my major concerns about Z are nonetheless directly related to girlhood. I see her acting “cute” and using a demanding yet “girly” voice to get what she wants from lots of other people and it makes me uncomfortable. The undercurrent of my very visceral reactions to Z’s “bratty,” “manipulative,” “sneaky,” “spoiled” behavior always seemed to me to be apprehension about her Attachment Disorder and how it might affect her and make her act in these ways. But my darling friend Wise Ayi recognized a deeper source and schooled me on the root of these concerns.

I was telling Wise Ayi about a particular interaction of Z’s that I had observed and how it set me on edge and – I felt – reinforced Z’s unhealthy, Attachment-Disorder-related manipulative tendencies.

“Whoever that was with [Z] isn’t a feminist. That’s what was really getting to you,” Wise Ayi explained. Her words sank in with revelatory force, opening up a full-to-exploding can o’ worms.

I flashed on a big ol’ worm: the memory of being at a celebratory dinner when Z’s brother G got his Orange Belt in Tae Kwon Do. This was a huge occasion for G and I had invited my ex, who at the time was dating a very skinny woman with a 13-year old daughter who’d recently become alarmingly thin. We ordered scallion pancakes and my ex’s ex – in front of both of our daughters (and my son) – started going off about how they were “So fattening” and “all that saturated fat…” 

I was furious! All I was able to spit out at the time was “Some fats are good for you!” but I was steaming for days over the prospect of ex's ex “infecting” Z with that kind of body consciousness. It was my first intense encounter – I live in a very progressive community – with the idea that Z could be indoctrinated into such destructive aspects of “normal” girl culture as healthy girls seeing themselves as (and being seen as) “fat,” as diets and appearance taking center stage in girls’ lives.  

But here in the manipulative, “cutesy” behavior we were talking about demeanor, not exactly appearance – a more subtle thing, but another worm nonetheless.

Wise Ayi was right, as she often is...When Z is “sassy,” when she ends all her statements so they sound like questions, when she strikes a pose after speaking, she is implicitly buying into the construct that that is how girls get what they want. And it makes me cringe, -- partly because of the Attachment Disorder aspect, but much more, I now realize, because I am a feminist. Apparently, these affectations don’t make non-feminists cringe – but I think they should.

We all suffer when one half of the population is taught to be cute in order to get their way rather than owning their power.

Admittedly, in a way, this is a form of misogyny on my part, in that I don’t want Z to use “feminine wiles” to get what she wants. On the flip, non-mysogynistic side of this stance, I want her to succeed on her own formidable skills and merit.

I don’t want my daughter’s power to be gendered any more than it inherently will be by others – especially by her own actions.

“Feminist” should not be a dirty word or an insult, though it is taken as such by many. But “bitch” sure is. The voice of misogyny calls women in power “bitches.” Misogynous culture trains women with one insidious tentacle to be coy and “sassy” -- while with another it slaps them down for just such behavior.

Is it too idealistic or naive to hope that a straightforward, strong person of any gender might avoid the moniker “bitch”?

Perhaps.

Still, I want my daughter’s voice and actions to be as strong as her heart and mind. And I want her to CHOOSE her voice, even to subvert stereotypes -- not be trained by those around her to be “cute,” or celebrated and rewarded for being coquettish or cunning. And if she gets called the F-word or the B-word along the way, I want her to have the true meaning of the F-word – the knowledge (and the endeavor to disseminate this knowledge) that women are equal to men, and deserve to be treated as such – to fall back on… whatever she chooses to call herself.

Something funny happened on the way to this can of worms: I realized that “girly” behavior and Attachment-Disordered behavior have something extremely important in common:

The impulse to get what you need by any means necessary. In case you can’t. In case you don’t “deserve” it. 
So, along with a strong voice, I want for my daughter

the inner knowledge to take root and to animate her voice and heart

that she does deserve

that she can do

…anything and everything.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

A Spectrum Rainbow II

 A Spectrum of What You THINK You Are Going To Do 

This particular Spectrum has come up a lot lately so it seems like a good time to share:

Madelino warned me when Z started kindergarten that I would need a year to recover, at least. She said that I might think I was going to now be able to do all that stuff I’d not been able to do all these years (so, now, in addition to teaching, I would definitely write that novel I’d been meaning to write, find new work that earned lashings of money, see friends, organize our lives, have plenty of time to relax…and, oh, that memorial poetry cycle!).

But no. 

What would actually happen was that I would spend a lot of time on catching up on nine years [fill in your number here – or just insert “the summer months,” because that counts, too; or tailor your slightly unique accomplishment delusions to "during my week off" or "when I go on sabbatical"...] of barely accomplishing anything outside of work and parenthood, and a lot of energy on imperceptibly returning to human status.

                                        Figure I – Time/Accomplishment Spectrum Graph

Lack of Accomplishment: as this Scientific Spectrum demonstrates, it’s just…normal.

A Clarification Spectrum

As just happened with PiMP’s prior post, sometimes I make jokes on this here blog and people on certain parts of the spectrum take them literally and worry about me/us and ask me if I/we are okay when I/we are really fine and dandy. Sometimes my funny, funny jokes make people on other parts of the spectrum take them at face value (literally) and assume I/we are all fine when in fact I/we are struggling.

Is this a metaphor?

A Cupcake Spectrum

More than one person explained what the kids’ new school would be like in terms of cupcakes.

One pal told me that whereas at X school one must bake gluten-free, not-too-sweet birthday cupcakes - say, nut-free banana muffins with lightly maple-syruped casein-free vegan cream cheese frosting - at our NEW school the ones from the grocery store with the day-glo frosting are more than acceptable.

Another said that while homemade cupcakes are de riguer at most area elementary schools, and especially at the private schools, at our larger, more urban school nobody even notices such [stuff].

Clearly, at G and Z’s new school, parents are relatively free to simply provide celebratory sugary treats of their choosing without judgment or condemnation! People with special dietary needs – well, I dunno. We have been a gluten-free and dairy-free household and now are mostly sugar-free, yet this felt super-liberating, as fall is a barrage of Full Spectrum Birthdays.

As a trained Sociologist, for what that’s worth, I was naturally* ruminating on the socioeconomic implications of cupcakes, when, come to find out, G being the least spectrum-y person on the spectrum in his class, he’s got classmates with dietary restrictions for the upcoming birthday event.  So here we go again with the gluten-free, casein-free, low-sugar (chocolate, though!) cupcakes.

In any case, the important question remains: where on the cupcake spectrum do “allergen-free,” “good for you” and “tastes good” meet?

Two Mess Spectra

Not only do the Full Spectrum children exhibit eclectic Mess styles, with Z’s messes shipshape and lined up and G’s…prodigious –

    Figure II – Z Room (Mess)                                         Figure III  - G Room (Mess)

 -- they also manifest a Cleaning Spectrum of remarkable breadth.  While both children’s messes may cover an equal area (area=entire surface area in room), one will take ten minutes to clean her room while the other will take ten hours.

Similarly…

A Tiny Expression of an Eating Pattern Spectrum

    Figure IV – Z Plate                                                     Figure V – G Plate

A Family Spectrum

Dennis and Jules had both come from families that hadn’t really felt good. This they’d shared and when they’d come together it was to make a home that did feel good, and even to say: Fuck you, disappointing families.

Meg Wolitzer, The Interestings, (p. 299)

                                              Figure VI – A Family Spectrum Bell Curve

We are just, kinda, on the tryna keep it in the warm color range plan.

A Hoochie Spectrum

A friend started giggling at my bemoaning Z’s back-to-school choices: “the flashiest, pinkest, cheapest-looking, hoochie mama-est item, every time!!!!” She said that her daughter chose her entire fall wardrobe from “The Hooker Line” and showed me some pretty great examples on her phone. And the thing is, these are smart, strong girls being raised by strong, feminist women, and, mostly, we are laughing about it.

Sure, this being Vermont, kids have no problem with second hand, and we get lots of hand-me-downs from fabulous young wimmin/womyn/womin/wymyn. But there are inevitably a very few things that we still have to buy in the Big Stores.

In that context, I can see pretty early in on this shopping-for-daughter thing that buying gear for Z is going to be a heck of a lot more tricky than it’s ever been with my son. It seems some children have strong tendencies toward what one might refer to as pizzazz. And some parents want their daughters to be making creative and satisfying choices that nonetheless skirt the safer boundaries of hoochie mama. Hoping for healthy self-esteem and body-awareness to trump mass culture and the sexualization of children and tweens.

And then there are those parents who maybe had a little too much pizzazz themselves and want to shelter their daughters from the dangers of pizzazz…and those who, lacking in pizzazz, encourage their daughters to new heights of pizzazzified self-expression…

Yeah, it’s a…Spectrum.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the Spectrum, I am trying to get G to be more materialistic: “Isn’t this pretty rock n roll? Pretty punk rock?” I’ll ask…”Wanna buy it?”

As my best friend Lucy used to say, “Horrors!”

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

* Get it? Naturally?

MILCS

I recently spent a morning meandering and gabbing with a beloved friend. As we walked along a magical, secluded trail, she showed me some special spots where her children play together. “We are here a lot because we can’t be in public right now,” she confided. One of her children is going through a period of strong tantrums and the effort and strain of it in the social scene is just too much. She admitted how ashamed she feels when her child throws a public tantrum and how her fear of getting caught in that situation has vastly limited her social life. How isolating it can be…Having read some of my experiences here (and heard about them in person and seen them in real life), she added, “You know how it is!” Oh yes, Mama, I know how it is.

This conversation reminded me of some instances when I had no choice but to be out in the world while my children were going through changes. Bleak times filled with helplessness, anger, sadness and humiliation for all…Happily, what also came to mind were the times when someone – often a complete stranger – gave me love, peace and strength just when I needed it.

Everybody knows what a MILF is, right? Well, I want to talk about MILCS: Mothers I’d Like to Celebrate. I don’t even know if some of these people have children…But they are MOTHERS, for sure. See if you don’t agree.

Once, Z was having a ghastly tantrum and I had taken her outside to avoid disturbing G’s tae kwon do class.  People kept walking by and either totally avoiding us or looking pityingly at the poor, poor little girl.  Poor, poor little girl was so angry (no idea why, this was a daily occurrence at the time…) that nothing I knew of (not hugs, not threats of Consequences…) would stop the screams of rage. I was near tears.

As I stood there, trying to shrink as small as possible while still indicating that the tantruming child had someone watching her (for what that someone was worth), a woman came up to me and said, simply, “Mom, you are doing okay.” She wrapped me up in her arms and rocked me a little from side to side and then went on her way.

Hey you, lady who just hugged a pariah, you are doing more than ok.

Oh, here’s a good one. You know when someone thinks your child with an attachment disorder has autism and that your child with autism is neurotypical, or vice versa? Yeah, that happens to me sometimes.

I was at this fantastic storefront Aztec-Mexican restaurant in Norwalk, CT called Molcajetes (http://www.ctbites.com/home/2009/9/18/los-molcajetes-seriously-authentic-mexican-in-norwalk.html) with extended family when Z threw one of her most remarkable, powerful tantrums of all time. Full Spectrum Grandmother tried to intervene and got kicked for her troubles…Pardner tried joking her out of it with no luck…

Over the course of the next [period of time, I am not sure how long!] or so I spent with my rocking, growling, kicking, screaming daughter out on the stoop, not one but TWO women with autistic sons walked by at different times and commiserated with me over what they thought was a textbook autistic tantrum.

“Oh no,” I told each kind mother in turn. “The one with autism is sitting inside eating nicely!”

When Z was good and ready she pretty instantly stopped being upset and went inside and, with a big smile on her face, devoured enough food (fresh, garlicky guacamole and soft tacos and just-fried chips with that incredible slightly sweet cabbage salsa) to feed an army, which is kind of what she was. You need fuel for that kind of sally!

When Z was younger, I often felt as if people judged me as a mother for her behavior. I wished I could maybe wear a sign that said, “This is not a normal tantrum. I have tried everything you (or I, or anyone) could imagine to stop this tantrum and many others like it. Yes, my daughter was just hitting me and screaming as if I was hitting her but I was not, actually, hitting her…, as you can see right here with your own eyes. In fact, your staring at us might even fuel this little situation we got going on here. Now, please, I just have to sit here and wait it out so I would be so grateful if you would stop giving me dirty looks.”

Now that Z is a little older, people can tell her tantrums are not just run-of-the-mill. They can see that she is older than a “normal” age for tantrums, and that she is writhing and screaming, extensively, without any input. They seem somewhat less likely to be appalled -- and rather more likely to feel compassion for both the parent who stands helplessly witness to such an event and the child who cannot extricate herself from it – or let herself be extricated...

G has his moments too, whether from his really rare but quite memorable public tantrums to his more common general inappropriateness/cluelessness, not to mention flailing.

One time, after a hard day, I said to G as we were leaving a local co-op, “You have the most important thing, a kind and loving heart. Now you just need to pay attention to the world around you and work on your common sense.” (This is one version of my ad-nauseam-aforementioned Pay Attention to the World lectures.)

We had gotten into the car and had just begun to pull out of the parking lot when a woman with a silver bob wearing a striking purple jacket and lots of chunky silver jewelry waved me down, practically throwing herself in front of the car. Thinking maybe I had forgotten one of my organic, vegan, sustainable, equal-exchange, wallet-straining purchases, I stopped and rolled down my window.

 “That was one of the most inspiring things I have ever heard,” she told me. “It will echo inside me for a long time. Thank you.”

No, thank you, Ms. Silver-Purple Angel-Person. I will never forget you.

I tell these tales not to brag or make it seem like I am doing such a great job that was duly appreciated by these wise women (ha!), but to share that these women actually made it possible for me to Go On. Their simple acts of generosity have resonated in my life for months and years. They allowed me the space and peace in which I could settle my heart back into love for my children instead of fear. They made it possible for me to celebrate my children, just as they are, and so I celebrate them.

Just so, I hope when my friend who is stuck in the woods for now with her clan reads this she will know how truly I honor her finding a way to celebrate her children through it all. In addition, I hope she will encounter surprising (yet very welcome) love and acceptance when she does have to put herself and her family “out there,” just as I did with these MILCS: huge-hearted strangers, generous-spirited everyday angels who just

Went For It.

And guess what? We can all – in some way - do the same.

We all have the mental capacity to recognize opportunities to grow our hearts, to stretch a little or a lot. Sometimes it seems like we don’t have the emotional capacity to execute such acts of kindness and generosity, whether it’s due to emotive stinginess (high on the fear spectrum, no?) or the shyness of those on the awkward end of the social spectrum. It’s probably easier to be surprisingly kind to strangers, as these women were to me, but we encounter countless such opportunities of all sorts every day. And I am not talking about the somewhat trite “random acts of kindness” trope, because these acts are more than random. They are necessary.

You never know when your small action may make a real difference in someone’s life. Plus, I suspect our capacity to be generous and kind grows with the PRACTICE.  Be grateful for any everyday angel you meet…and pass it on!

Lest this seem preachy, I should add I’ve no idea what a generous spirit means to you in particular and no advice beyond the suggestion that choosing kindness at a given moment may resonate more than you’ll ever know.

Thanks and love forever, MILCS, and all you others trying to make sure your heart isn’t several sizes too small, and all y’all who are just plain trying,

Full Spectrum Mama