This is the year that my daughter begins high school. I’m trying very hard not to be fearful or dread it yet I can’t help but remember the hell that I gave my mother and her promise that she’s going to laugh when I have my own teen-aged daughter. Throw in my feminist beliefs, my constant women empowerment speeches, and my fiery political views and you have the possibility of mom/daughter combustion. Not to mention, my daughter is no shrinking violet and has never been afraid to disagree with me or tell me that I’m completely out of touch.
Here’s what I struggle with; do I blast my feminist agenda all over her so that she is inundated with it or do I quietly leave posters of Gloria Steinem on her ceiling? Listen, this mothering a daughter thing is no easy venture. Are Hillary Clinton t-shirts stylish? Is it wrong to ask her to start a high school feminist group in which they invite me to every meeting so that I can tell them exactly how they should feel on a variety of women related issues? I’m really trying to do this stuff subtly and that group seems like a nice start.
It’s been a struggle for me to stay silent over the last couple of years.
My girl used to love to wear boy’s baggy basketball shorts, dorky t-shirts, and her gorgeous curly hair exactly the way it is. My heart broke a bit when she asked for a hair straightener and a curling iron (two things that I have never owned). I worked hard not to panic when she began to talk about “in style” clothing and make-up. Another mother and I nearly sobbed when our girls refused to swim in her beautiful pool because they didn’t want to mess up their perfectly straight hair. A particularly tough day for me was when my girl wouldn’t come to the store with me because she wasn’t “dressed”. Huh? I wear my pajama top and sweat pants to the grocery store all the time. Is that bad?
I really noticed the biggest difference between her all girl camp appearance and her co-ed school appearance. The first being “I’m going to kick your butt in dodge ball” and the later being “I look a lot older than 14, right?” She and I have already gone head to head with what she calls my mantra of, “too short too tight.” I’ve since learned to pick my battles carefully. Yet, am I over panicking here to think that these are all sure signs that I’m raising a future Kardashian? Someone who will spend her life looking for that perfect designer bag with shoes to match and be arm candy to some rich, misogynist? Should I be considering an all girl’s prep school run by nuns even though we are Jewish?
This is when I force myself to look back at my own adolescence.
The one where I wasn’t allowed to wear make-up so I bought the cheap stuff at Walgreens and put it on via clown style on the bus to school. The clothes that I was forbidden to wear that were purchased behind my mom’s back and then changed into at the bathroom at school or in the back seat of my car prior to entering school. I get a kick out of the political and personal views that I adopted simply because they were the exact opposite of my mothers and the long haired bad boys that she despised. Let’s not even discuss the time that I planted cigarettes in my room (even though I’m not a smoker) to torture my mother into a lecturing frenzy.
I laugh at all of those things now but not so much when I think about my daughter torturing me in a similar manner. Let me use this blog as my vow to not overreact to what might come my way, to show my daughter unconditional love yet firm boundaries, and to not scoff at the bottle of foundation in her room. I also vow to not ask the political orientation of any boys that she dates at least not on the first date. When she asks to have her hair done for a dance I won’t say, “Why? Your hair looks perfect just the way it is.” And I promise to limit my “too tight too short” mantra to once a day vs. the hundred plus times that I’ve been at lately.
Most of all, I vow to never judge her, to never comment on her appearance in a negative way, to listen carefully when she disagrees and to validate her opinions even if they are different than mine (and therefore wrong). I promise not to nag, cajole, nitpick, dance in public when she can see me, and flirt with her boyfriends. No panicking allowed if she acts dumb in front of boys or threatens to wear only haute’ couture. My amazing girl will be who she will be and ultimately my greatest gift to her is allowing her to do just that. Wish me luck.
Love,
Lisa Kaplin Psy. D. PCC