When I picked Shea up from school today, we set off for home and had our daily small talk. We covered our usual topics of school, play, her friends, etc. We then set the agenda for the day. We were going to go to the store and then return home for homework. We agreed that both of us were going to do our homework. She had a composition to write, and, guess what? So did I.
I had to do my own daily homework of writing, and we agreed to do it together. I hadn't planned on sitting down to write, but an opportunity presented itself, and I decided to take it. Thus, you find me here in the blogosphere brainstorming on what to write. This can oftentimes be the hardest part for a writer, discovering your subject, but today was easy as I latched on to a small detail from my drive to pick up Shea.
On the way to the school, I was behind a car with the bumper sticker, "Act Like a Lady...Think Like a Boss." My first reaction was, "Right on, sister." Then I stuttered a moment and had to rethink my original idea. I wasn't sure if I liked the "Act like a lady" part. I decided this would be a great chance for Shea and I to have a talk about it, to pick her brain and see what she thought about what it meant to "act like a lady."
After our initial small talk, I told her about the bumper sticker I saw and asked her what she thought. Her first answer, "Good." I had to press her a little bit to see where she truly stood. I followed up with, "What is a boss?"
"Someone who tells other people what to do. Like at work or a teacher."
"Is that different from being a lady?" I asked.
She had to think hard on this one. "Yes," she said. "Ladies are nice."
"Is it mean to tell someone what to do if you are in charge?" I asked.
"No," Shea said after a moment.
"So a lady can be in charge and tell people what to do, right?"
"Yeah," Shea said her voice rising in excitement. She was on board with this whole train of thought.
"So...if ladies are supposed to be nice, then what other types of things are ladies supposed to be?" I continued. I even air quoted the "supposed" to emphasize the point.
Shea struggled with this one, so I changed my line of questioning. "Is there anything a lady is not?"
In my college lectures, I always tell my students that it is easier to say what they are not than to actually say what they are, so I took this tact with Shea.
Shea came back with, "Boys can lift heavy stuff."
"OK," I said, "But how often do you practice lifting heavy things?"
"Not a lot," she said.
"So what would happen if you practiced lifting heavy things? Would you get better at it? Would you eventually be able to lift heavier and heavier things?"
"Yes," she said.
"OK," I said, "so are there girls who can lift heavy things? Girls who work hard at being strong?"
"Yes," she said.
"So would you say that girls are strong?"
"Yes," Shea said, again her voice rose at the idea.
"So it's not just boys, is it?"
"Nope," she said. She even had a hint of a giggle in her voice.
"So, let's run through some words and you tell me if it describes girls."
"Okay," Shea said through her smile. She's used to me by now, and she knows my little word games with her.
"Strong."
"Yep," she said. I lobbed the ball to her on that one.
"Smart."
"Yep," she said.
"Funny."
"Yep," she said.
"Pretty."
"Yep," she said.
"Powerful."
She took a moment on this one. She asked me what the word meant. I told her that being powerful meant that you could do things on your own, that you commanded respect from others, and that you were able to do things on your own without help.
"Yep," she said.
I reached across the car and gave her a high five. "Sounds right to me," I said. This girl makes me proud. She has a natural sense of her own power, but I'm always careful to have conversations with her that reminds her of it. In all my time as a college instructor, I saw so many young women who had lost a sense of their own power and were slowly reclaiming it through the process of a self-guided education, but it makes me wonder at how spectacular they would be if they simply didn't have to go through that culturally indoctrinated period of self-doubt. As a parent, I know some of it will happen, but I hope to be an advocate of my daughter's own self-worth throughout her lifetime, to maybe soften some of the trappings of adolescence.
It was a wonderful conversation, and one that I hope she remembers and takes to heart. If she doesn't remember, then maybe she will one day read this and either remember or be reminded of how her daddy sees her. When we got home from our errands, my daughter and I sat at the kitchen table together. She did her school work and I got the chance to reflect on my day with her. These moments are small moments, the moments that make up a life, and a good life at that. I hope to spend many more hours working with her like this, showing her that writing, thinking, and questioning are all a part of how we navigate the complexity of life.
All in all, not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
