I struggle to admit this.
“If someone crosses a boundary, kindly ask them to stop.” Ugh—can I just hurl right now? That’s the sound of my inner critic berating me for telling my daughters to behave like timid ladies when faced with disrespect. I’m ashamed to think that I’m inadvertently encouraging them to be submissive, just like I’ve often been.
It’s a tough pill to swallow. I project confidence, strutting through life like a fearless mom, but when it comes to confronting problematic behavior in real life, I often falter. My assertiveness melts away, leaving behind a parched tongue and a heart full of anxiety.
Through my misguided advice, I’m telling my daughters to be cautious and polite. How will that serve them well in the real world? Picture this: a child is bullying my daughter on the playground. Instead of standing up for herself, she timidly says, “Excuse me, I don’t like that. Could you please stop?” The likelihood of the bully taking her seriously? Slim to none. Instead, she might end up hurt, both physically and emotionally.
Bravo to me for raising a pacifist. A lover, not a fighter. A victim. Ensuring my children navigate social interactions with a veneer of politeness seems to take precedence over their safety and self-worth.
Like many women, I’ve been conditioned to prioritize politeness, even in situations where I should be standing my ground. I’ve found myself remaining courteous in the face of injustice and even danger, often driven by an array of fears: fear of losing my job, fear of upsetting friends or family, fear of being labeled “difficult” or “emotional.”
When confronted with aggressive behavior, I retreat. I let my inner coward take the reins. The problem is, I’m passing that same cowardice onto my kids, and it’s infuriating. I want to break this cycle. Sure, I’ve spoken up when my order was wrong at a coffee shop, but what about the time a man cornered me on a road trip with my children? They witnessed my panic and my feeble attempts to deflect. I didn’t show them a strong, resilient mother; I showed them a frightened one.
I aspire to raise daughters who are assertive and empowered, who would never accept mistreatment from anyone, especially not someone claiming to love them. I want them to be strong enough to confront unfair treatment at work and articulate their feelings when they experience harassment, even in a world that may shame them, like the case of Anita Hill.
I regret allowing myself to become a victim of harassment. Yes, being a victim doesn’t mean I invited it, but I did allow it to happen repeatedly. I remember a man in college who seemed so charming while helping me move. But then, his intentions quickly turned inappropriate, and instead of calling for help, I hid in my apartment, paralyzed by fear.
After college, the harassment became more insidious in the workplace, from colleagues making inappropriate comments about my appearance to blatant unfair treatment from bosses. I should have reported them, but I stayed silent, fearing the repercussions of standing up for myself.
The digital age has introduced another platform for harassment, making it impossible for writers like me to remain isolated. Social media can be a double-edged sword; while it connects us, it also exposes us to unsolicited negativity. I’ve faced everything from sexist comments to personal attacks online. Often, I find myself wanting to engage politely rather than block or report these individuals. It’s time for a change.
I’m here to acknowledge my shortcomings and commit to raising assertive daughters. No more wimpy advice. I need to model strength and empower them to take control of their narratives. They need to know how to use the “block” button—no more apologies for asserting themselves.
As I embark on this journey of change, I also encourage mothers to explore resources that can help. For those considering at-home insemination, check out Make a Mom for reliable insemination kits. And for a deeper understanding of the process, Parents offers excellent insights on what to expect with home insemination.
In the end, I want my daughters to be strong women, unafraid to speak their minds and stand up for themselves. It’s time to rewrite our family narrative—one of empowerment, resilience, and unwavering strength.
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