Category Archives: judgement

January 8, 2015 · 7:35 PM

Why We Need To Keep Talking About Leelah Alcorn

Leelah Alcorn, 1997-2014

Leelah Alcorn, 1997-2014

I’ll be 41 in 2 days.

Even at 41, it still stings when I get disapproval from my parents.  At this point, it’s stupid little things:  they don’t like my nose ring, or that I gauged my ears.  They stopped being excited about my tattoos after number 2 or 3. They hated my dreadlocks for every day of the three years that I had them.  Such silly, inconsequential, superficial things, and yet I still – even as a grown, confident, very true-to-myself adult – I still falter, still wilt a little bit under their disapproval.  Yes, I understand that they love me, but the feeling is still there, just under the surface.   The feeling that I’m not living up to expectations.  The feeling that I’ve disappointed in some way.

I cannot imagine, even for a second, the pain of being a teenager… a child… a time that’s confusing and difficult and rife with growing pains even under the best of circumstances… trying to figure out who you are and where you fit in…. and being met with rejection from your parents, the very people who are supposed to be your rock and your protector… rejection not for something immaterial like a hair style or a clothing choice, but for who you are.  

Make no mistake, Leelah Alcorn was rejected by her parents.

In an interview with CNN, Leelah’s mother, Carla Alcorn said:

 

“We don’t support that, religiously  [In response to her identifying as a girl].  But we told him that we loved him unconditionally. We loved him no matter what. I loved my son. People need to know that I loved him. He was a good kid, a good boy.”

 

And you know what, I’m sure that she did love her son. I don’t know Carla Alcorn. I have no reason to doubt her words. The problem is… this son that she loved didn’t exist.  In Leelah’s own words, she knew she wasn’t “Josh” from the time she was 4 years old.  She was 17 when she took her life, so that means that she lived for 13 years as someone other than who her parents wanted and expected her to be.  And when she did tell them?  She was met with disapproval.  She was met with rejection.  She was sent to Christian therapists… therapists who didn’t address her big feelings, didn’t help her with her depression, but instead tried to “fix” her.  Tried to tell her how wrong she was.  Tried to tell her how she just needed to pray it away. Pray away the person that she’d been since she was four years old.

Her parents did not support her, she’d been cut off from her friends, and even her “therapists” (who are supposed to help!) only served to tell her how shameful she was.

I think about how alienated and alone she must have felt and I feel sick.

And if you’re reading this and thinking, “Well it’s sad that she took her life, but being transgender is wrong,”  I don’t care that you think it’s wrong.  And I mean it in the most respectful way possible, but I really, truly don’t care.   Because there’s such a thing as a right and a wrong way to treat people, and we have failed – all of us, as a society – we have shamefully failed in our treatment of people like Leelah Alcorn.

As for her parents:

Her parents have the right to their religious beliefs.  They have the right to disagree with her decision to transition to female.  Absolutely.  But as parents they also had a responsibility.  A responsibility to realize that their right to their own beliefs did not and should not supersede their daughter’s right to feel safe and loved and accepted in her own home.  A responsibility to understand that their religious rights end where another person’s human rights begin (and not just any old person, but their CHILD!).  Leelah had the right to be loved and cared for and protected FOR WHO SHE WAS, not who they wanted her to be.  Even in death, they refuse to call her by her chosen gender pronoun, and that to me speaks volumes.

I hesitate to bring religion into it, because I don’t really believe it’s about religion.  I believe it’s about love and acceptance.  But I feel like it has to be addressed, because I have seen far too many comments along the lines of “This is why I hate Christians.”  [And as an aside, I need to believe that the people who say that don’t actually hate all Christians, because if they did, it would mean that they practice the very same bigotry that they’re speaking out against.]  It stands to be said that not all Christians would behave the same way as Leelah’s parents.   Not all Christians are the same.  It bothers me – deeply – how often I find myself needing to say that, but it’s true.  In fact my faith informs me very very differently.  My faith tells me to love…. deeply, truly, unconditionally. My faith tells me that in order to parent, and parent well, that I need to accept and honor my children for WHO THEY ARE, not tell them through my words and actions that the essence of their identity is wrong or bad or shameful.

My faith tells me that the God I love would not create my child in a particular way (in Leelah’s case as a chid born with male genitalia but who ultimately identified as female), only to want me to reject and alienate the very person He created.

And don’t misunderstand me.  I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be the parent of a transgender child.  I can’t pretend to know the pain of losing a child, and the pain of knowing that my own choices contributed.

What I do know is that the words Leelah spoke in her heartbreaking suicide note reflect not just the anguish of her own life and death, but also speak to a much more universal problem.   There are countless other “Leelahs” out there, and they need our support.  And as the days pass, and people mention her name less and less, I feel almost panicky inside. Panicky because I feel like we NEED to keep talking about this.  I feel like we need to remember.  I feel like we need to take the lesson learned from Leelah’s life and death and live it.

What does it take for our society to wake up?  What does it take for us to stand on the side of compassion and understanding and acceptance for all people?  What does it take for us to err on the side of love?

These are the questions we should be asking ourselves all the time, not just in response to tragedy.

Leelah shouldn’t have died.  Oh she shouldn’t have died!  By all accounts, she was a beautiful and talented soul. But I thank her for leaving her words for all of us, for the powerful and important and timeless message of love, acceptance, and kindness for all.  I pray that she finds the peace that she never found on earth.

 

The only way I will rest in peace is if one day transgender people aren’t treated the way I was, they’re treated like humans, with valid feelings and human rights. Gender needs to be taught about in schools, the earlier the better. My death needs to mean something. My death needs to be counted in the number of transgender people who commit suicide this year. I want someone to look at that number and say “that’s fucked up” and fix it. Fix society. Please.

 

Sending love to all, in Leelah’s honor.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————–

If you are transgender and contemplating suicide, you can call the Trans Lifeline at 877-565-8860

LGBT youth (24 years and younger) can call the Trevor Project Lifeline at 1-866-7386

For all ages and identities, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255

 

4 Comments

Filed under acceptance, headlines, hot topics, judgement, kindness, love, parenting

January 21, 2014 · 10:52 AM

Piercings and Perceptions (Those people are SCARY)

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A few weeks ago, Tegan (almost six at the time of this writing) got her ears pierced. She’d been toying with the idea for at least a year, but was nervous because she knew it would hurt. She talked about it all the time, and asked me lots of questions.  My response was always the same.  I wasn’t going to talk her into it, or talk her out of it.  The only one who could make that decision for her body was her.  “When you’re ready, you’ll know.   And when you say, “when,” I’ll take you.”

That moment came just a few days after Christmas.  Knowing that I wanted to take her to a skilled, reputable piercer who would use a needle rather than the guns used at places like the mall, I made a bunch of phone calls, and asked some friends who’d had their girls’ ears pierced.  We ended up at a wonderful shop, with a kind and patient piercer who knew just how to calm Tegan’s understandable jitters.  When we came in, the soundtrack to Frozen was playing, and she even had the guy at the front desk put on “Do You Want To Build a Snowman?” just as she was about to pierce, because she’d overheard Tegan say it was her favorite.  How above and beyond is that?

Making it even more of an “event”, Tegan had not just her dad and I in her entourage, but also her grandparents who were visiting from Massachusetts.  She’d wanted to share it with them, and they were happy to come along for the ride.  It was a big, momentous day in her life, one that I was so excited to be able to give to her.  We couldn’t have asked for a better experience, and Tegan is thrilled with her new earrings.

I’m thinking about it today because a friend just happened to share an article about why you should take your child to a tattoo/piercing shop (as opposed to the alternatives) to get their ears pierced.  It wasn’t new information for me, but I read it with interest since ours was such a fresh experience.

When I was done, I read the comments, which were largely made by people like us… people who’d had great experiences, and were happy to share about it.  And then there were a few that stood out, a few that said, (I’m paraphrasing):

I would never take my kids in to a place like that.  People who work at those places look scary.  I wouldn’t want my kids to have nightmares.

I grew up around such prejudices and similar attitudes about people with piercings, tattoos, etc. as well.   I remember once when I was a kid, a woman visited our church with a sleeveless dress on that showed off a cute little flower tattoo on her shoulder.  It was adorable (a million times tinier than any of the tattoos I would go on to get) and I was fascinated by it.   But when it was mentioned later in my youth group, it wasn’t to talk about how pretty it was… it was to talk about what kind of “image” a tattoo is sending to the world…. a tattoo that we wouldn’t have even seen had she not been wearing a sleeveless dress, which, of course, sent its own message.

I decided somewhere along the way that I wanted something different for my own kids.  That I didn’t want them to see people for their clothes or their hairstyles or their body modifications, but for who they are as people.  I want them to assume, first and foremost, that most people are good.  That most people are kind.  That most people will treat them as respectfully as they’re treated in kind, no matter what their outer packaging looks like.   In fact, one of the reasons I keep my dreadlocks even through those moments of “I’m cutting them all off!” desperation, is that they open so many doors for acceptance.  It’s rare that we don’t have an outing that finds us talking about dreadlocks with all kinds of different people.  Pierced, tattooed, modified, dreaded, shaved, dyed… all those people that moms like the one up above find “scary”… making friendly conversation and sharing kind words with strangers.  Just like… well, just like the regular people that they are.  Subsequently, there are few things that shock my kids appearance-wise.

That’s not to say though, that there’s anything wrong with a child being unsure or afraid of something he’s not familiar with.  Not at all.  Just a few months ago, we were at a museum when Tegan saw someone with some startling differences, things this woman was born with, that really scared her.  I couldn’t fault her for feeling that way. How I could I?  She’d never seen someone who looked like that before.  What I could do was remind her, and myself, that it’s all just external.  Just packaging.  That beneath the exterior, we’re all the same.  We’re all beautiful.   Worthy of kindness, respect, and love.

So my response to those who wouldn’t want to expose their kids to those “scary” people would be this:

First, some of the nicest people I have ever met have been at tattoo shops.  Truly.  I’ve only had wonderful experiences at every single one of the shops I’ve gone to.  My theory is that the artists who are tattooing and piercing are following a passion … people who follow their passions are happy … and happy people are nice people.  Let down your guard, and let yourself see it.

And second, kids take their cues from their parents more than from anyone else.  If we continue to avoid people who are “different”, they will continue to believe that “different” is scary. If we stay far away from the guy with the long dreadlocks, scoff at the guy with the coaster-sized gauged ears, and silently judge the girl with tattoos all over her neck, our kids will learn from our example.  It starts with us.

It’s okay for kids to be scared or unsure when they’re first faced with someone who looks “out of the ordinary.” It’s not okay for us, as parents, to perpetuate it.

 

3 Comments

Filed under acceptance, judgement, kindness, labels, misconceptions, Tegan

February 14, 2013 · 7:53 AM

That Girl Needs To Lay Off The Cheeseburgers

Does that title make you uncomfortable?  Good.  It’s supposed to.  It made me uncomfortable to write it.  We’re supposed to be bothered by such derogatory comments, because we all know (or at least, we should know) that they’re unkind and hurtful.  I sincerely hope that if you’re reading this right now, that we can agree – whether you’ve ever said something like that or not – that picking on someone for being a larger size is not a very nice thing to do.

What I’m wondering then, is why on earth it seems to be so socially acceptable to knock someone for being very thin?  When did this become okay?

Hold that thought.

Last Sunday was the Grammy Awards.  I get more excited about awards shows than I rightfully should.  I love them.  I do.  I love music and movies and television and pop culture in general; I love the pomp and circumstance; and I love the revealing of the answer to the scintillating question that’s on everyone’s minds:  What will the stars be wearing??  It’s true.  There’s something strangely thrilling about watching pretty people in dresses that cost more than my car.

My husband, who would rather have extensive elective dental work than sit through more than 3 minutes of an awards show, was beside me in body but not so much in spirit… so I virtually watched it alongside hundreds of other people via Twitter and Facebook.  It was interesting following all the commentary in real-time.

Adele’s wearing color!

Chris Brown and Rhianna are publicly canoodling even after he assaulted her.

Oh. Em. Gee.  It’s Justin Timberlake!

And then came the body-shaming.  “Someone feed Taylor Swift a sandwich.”  “Nicole Kidman needs a cheeseburger.”  “Faith Hill’s gotten way too skinny.”

Again, I have to ask:  When did this become okay?  If we can all agree that it’s not right to negatively point out someone’s larger size, why shouldn’t the same hold true for those on the other side of the spectrum?  Why should we be critiquing others’ bodies at all?

The day after the Grammys, I was looking through a pictorial of the attendees’ dresses on a popular entertainment website.  On the side bar, two previous articles caught my attention:  The first, an article touting celebrities’ best-kept weight-loss secrets.  Right below it?  “The most scary skinny bikini bodies.”  Is it any wonder society is so confused, with that kind of disparity?  Lose weight, lose weight, lose weight!!  Too skinny, too skinny, too skinny!!

I used to be the “too thin” girl.  I’m not anymore  – my 39 year old body has resolutely decided to naturally carry 20 more pounds than my 29 year old body – but once upon a time I was the one being told to “eat a couple sandwiches.”

It’s hurtful, and it’s embarrassing.

I remember being at a holiday party once, all dressed up and feeling festive and pretty.  I was shivering, literally shaking, because it turned out I was coming down with the flu.  A friend of a friend looked at me, and said, loudly enough for the whole roomful of people to look at him, “It’s because you’re so damn skinny.  You need to eat something.  I can practically see right through you!”

15 years later, I can still remember exactly what he said, and exactly how it made me feel.

Dove has an ad campaign called “Real Women” that mostly features women with curves.  Real women have curves, these ads cry.  And you know what?  Sometimes they do.  And sometimes real women have no curves.  Sometimes real women are tall and lanky.  Sometimes real women have big boobs, and sometimes real women have no boobs.  Sometimes real women have no hair, and sometimes they have hair everywhere.  Sometimes real women have flabby thighs and flat butts and muffin tops.  Sometimes real women have big ears and stretch marks and bony knees.  Sometimes real women sit behind a desk all day and wear a size zero.  Sometimes real women spend all day in the gym and never get below an 18.

Sometimes real women laugh when they want to cry.

Can we stop with the body shaming?  I am so, so tired of a culture that fights so hard against a “thin is beautiful” mindset that it’s only succeeded in carving the second side of the same damn coin.

Thin is beautiful.

Big is beautiful.

Healthy is beautiful.

Strong is beautiful.

Vulnerable is beautiful.

Happy and confident and kind are beautiful.

We never know someone’s story just by looking at them.   Can I say that I again, because *I* seem to forever need to reminder?

We never know someone’s story just by looking at them. 

It’s easy and convenient to assume that a diet or a sandwich will cure someone’s supposed “flaws”… but it’s far more kind (and so much more productive) to never see them as flaws to begin with.

(I wrote about this same subject here)

25 Comments

Filed under acceptance, body image, hot topics, judgement, love, rant, self image

January 2, 2013 · 7:11 AM

I Am Not a Christian

Waldo

We have a ball python named Waldo. We named him Waldo for the late great Ralph Waldo Emerson (and also because people seemed to find the idea of being able to lament, “Where’s Waldo??” in the event of an escape side-splittingly funny.) He’s a wonderful pet. He’s playful and friendly, and loves to slither around our laps on the couch. It’s fun to watch him eat too… striking out to catch the – already dead – mouse we dangle from the tweezers, squeezing it until it’s good and dead, and then ever so slowly and deliberately swallowing it whole.

One of the coolest things about snakes though is their ability to shed their skin. I’m fascinated by this. They outgrow their old skin, it turns white and brittle and loose, and here is this new skin: beautiful, bright, and vibrant, ready to take its place. Ideally, the old skin comes off in one long complete piece… so intact that you can clearly see where the eyes once resided. Sometimes though, they have a bad, or an incomplete shed. The skin comes off in stages and pieces. When that happens, the retained skin can cause problems for the snake, so it’s important to have rough items like branches, bark, and rock in the cage so that the snake can rub against them to help snag and remove the remaining skin. That’s exactly what happened the last time Waldo shed. His cage was filled with pieces of skin of varying length, and we wondered if we’d have to do something to help. But he worked it out: he used the rough bark of his hiding log, and eventually it was all gone. He was fresh and new and shiny again.

I am a snake.

For the past several years, I’ve been on a journey to slowly shed my outgrown skin in many many facets of my life, but particularly in my walk as a Christian. For so many (So. Many.) years I was bound by rules and regulations and legalities, and as I grew and changed and evolved… it just didn’t fit anymore. I started to crave freedom and grace and freedom again, and I just wasn’t finding them in my old skin.

I am thankful, honestly thankful, for the painful church experiences of my past that started the process, that tore off that first big piece, the one that gave me the glimpse of the beauty that lay beneath. Just the taste, just the possibility of the freedom that was to come gave me hope. And those final bits of skin? The stubborn ones? Well those eventually came off too, thanks to the people I’ve encountered along the way; the ones who served as those rough logs, sloughing off the old meaning of the word, “Christian”, and replacing it with something new. Those people are the ones who helped me see who I am, who I’m not, and who I so desperately want to be.

If a Christian is someone who uses a Bible not as a source of strength or knowledge or information, but as a weapon, something from which to cherry-pick scriptures to clobber others, to prove a point, and to win an argument…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who thinks he can say with any authority who is and who is not going to go to heaven; who arrogantly thinks he knows the status of someone else’s walk with God, let alone his salvation…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who disparages others just because they happen to be a Democrat or a liberal or someone who voted “the wrong way” in the last election…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who doesn’t let another Christian into their group or club or school because they’re the wrong kind of Christian, or because their beliefs or interpretations of God and the Bible may differ from their own…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who stands as judge and jury of someone else’s lifestyle; someone who finds it appropriate to go onto someone else’s Facebook page and just tell her, point-blank: “You are not a true Christian if you XYZ”…

I am not a Christian.

And riiiiiiiiip, there it goes, the very last little thready bits of skin. Except it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. It feels freeing.

That skin didn’t fit. And it hadn’t fit for so long.

I have no anger towards those people either. No bitterness. Only gratitude. And I’ll fully admit that that wasn’t always the case. I have one faithful friend who can attest to the number of, “Have I mentioned lately how much Christians annoy me?” texts I’ve sent her over the past year. It’s only now that I can see them for what they were… just people on their own journey, people who may or may not have skin to shed of their own. How they’re living out their own personal walk is none of my business, and likewise:

No one else but me gets to decide my path for ME.

I’m free.

Does that freedom then mean that I just live my life all willy-nilly, devil-may-care, any old way, and if God doesn’t like it that’s just too damn bad? Of course not. On the contrary, as someone who does truly love God, I am always learning, always growing, always examining, always questioning. Christianity is actually a lot like yoga (which, ironically, is another area that’s garnered me the, “You can’t be a true Christian if you do that!” comments) in that you never know everything there is to know. You’re never finished learning. You’re never finished getting better. By all means, even though I’m a teacher I’m still relatively new to yoga. And even though I’ve been a Christian my whole life, I’m still very new to the idea of grace. Of real faith. Of freedom. For the first time in, well… ever… I can’t wait to learn more.

So am I a Christian? The only words that come are: “It just doesn’t matter.” I am me. I love God. And I’m okay with that answer.

I’m pretty sure God’s okay with it too.

33 Comments

Filed under about me, church, faith, freedom, judgement, learning, life

December 18, 2012 · 6:00 AM

2012 Top Ten

What a year for parenting. Between Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest, there was no shortage of avenues for crazy ideas. Laptop-shooting dads, public shamings on Facebook, and negative and anti-kid “pins” were all the rage this year.

As I went through my stats for the year to get this post together, I realized that once again my most read pieces were those that responded to these popular trends.  I’m not sure how I feel about that.  On the one hand, it makes sense…. these are things that people are thinking about, and talking about, and are just generally in the public’s consciousness.  On the other, it bothers me.  Bothers me because they’re also the posts that garner me the most negative attention, the most “Why don’t you stop judging everyone else and worry about your own family” kind of comments.   It was not too long ago that I was told I should stop picking on everyone.

That’s not who I am, and it’s not what this blog is.

Still, there were things that I think needed to be said, and with few exceptions I don’t regret saying them.   I do imagine the blog going in a bit of a different direction in 2013, both as a conscious decision and just because I’ve gone in a different direction.    As an authentic extension of myself, this space is a growing, changing, fluid organism.  And thank God for that.

Here are my most read posts for the year, in order of most to least views:

Not My Idea of a Hero:  My response to Tommy Jordan, the man who gained his 15 minutes of fame when the video of him shooting bullets through his daughter’s laptop went viral on YouTube.   I took a lot of flack on this one… for “judging” him, and for not respecting him and his decisions as a parent.   But the man took a gun, shot it through his daughter’s property, and used fear, intimidation, and public ridicule as a way to discipline.  I stand by this one.

I stole your stuff.  Now I’m holding it for ransom:  My take on the popular Pinterest idea of collecting your kids’ things that were left lying around, putting them in a big bin, and then having them do chores to earn them back.   A lot of negative responses to this too (people hold very tightly to their treasured pins :)), especially to my use of the word, “steal.”  But in my house, my childrens’ things are their own, and taking something that doesn’t belong to you is stealing.  I stand by this one too.

Dear Chick Fil A, I Love You But:  Dan Cathy, the CEO of Chick Fil A, made a public statement about gay marriage and what he called traditional family values.  People boycotted, people supported him, and everyone went crazy.  The brouhaha on both sides of this issue was just too much to ignore, so I had to say my piece.  My only regret on this one?  That I wasn’t brave enough to say how I really felt about homosexuality.  That I hid behind hypotheticals and political correctness and the same “traditional family values” that had started the whole thing.   What I didn’t do was come right out and say that yes, I’m a Christian who absolutely loves God and loves Jesus…. and doesn’t happen to think that homosexuality is a sin.  I didn’t say that I think that the way homosexuals have been treated in the name of Christianity is absolutely abhorrent, and I didn’t say that I think something needs to change in a HUGE way in this country (and that that change should not involve denying gay individuals the same rights as their heterosexual counterparts.)  I didn’t share that I too was once an adamant “It’s a sin, but…” Christian, or the journey that it took for me to feel otherwise, or the years of researching on my own, trying to find out what the Bible actually did and did not say, or my gratitude for people like John Shore, and other Christians who were brave enough to question the status quo – and write about it – long before me.   So there it is.   And in 2013, I won’t shy away from talking about it anymore.

Mom’s Rules and Is it Okay to Let Your Child Cry?  and The Problem with Facebook Parenting:    I don’t want to keep repeating myself, so I’ll comment on these all together.  Some things are worth taking a stand about.  The way children are treated is one of them.

Unschooling, Christianity & Other Misconceptions and The Five Rs for New Homeschoolers and Unschooling:  Don’t You Worry That They’ll Miss Something?   I’m glad these made the list.  I’m in a season right now of not wanting to really talk about unschooling so much as just LIVE it.  I know that people are still out there looking for information and reassurance though, and I’d love to think that they’re able to find some of that in some of my past posts…. if nothing else, as a jumping off point for further research.

The Boy Named Johnny:  About an awesome, energetic, different kid in Everett’s cub scout troop.  I’m glad this made the list too, especially in light of the Connecticut school shootings, and the attention being paid to the fact that the shooter had Asperger’s.  I think it’s an important conversation to be had.

And a bonus number 11:

When is it Okay to Judge?:   When I saw this was in the number 11 spot, I knew I had to include it.  Please read it, especially if any of the above posts make you want to call me judgmental.  🙂

Love you all, and I can’t wait to see what 2013 brings.

4 Comments

Filed under blogging, christian unschooling, discipline, gentle discipline, gentle parenting, judgement, kindness, learning, life, mindful parenting, parenting, unschooling

August 6, 2012 · 1:32 PM

I’m a Hypocrite (and sometimes I don’t recycle)

A truth about blogging:  Sometimes no matter how carefully you choose your words, no matter how diplomatic and respectful you feel you’re being, no matter how clearly you think you’ve shared your viewpoint…. you still get called judgmental.  Short-sighted.  Preachy.  Hypocritical.

Hypocritical.  Hypocritical.  Hypocritical.

The odd thing is the perverse pleasure people seem to take in pointing out this perceived hypocrisy.  “Admit it!  You’re a hypocrite!!”

Okay, I’m a hypocrite.  So what?   I don’t mean to be flip, and of course I strive not to be a hypocrite.  It’s just that everyone (at least if s/he’s being honest) is a hypocrite sometimes.  We all mess up.  We vow to do better.  We change our minds.  We learn.  We grow.  We mess up again.  We’re human.

I’ve kept this blog for over 6 years now.  I GUARANTEE you that I’ve contradicted myself.  I guarantee you that I’ve written posts I’m no longer proud of.  I guarantee you that I haven’t always been as nice as I could have been.

The only difference between me and anyone else is that my missteps are out there on the internet for all to see and critique.

And if I don’t happen to be writing about it, you can rest assured that I’m living it.

Yes, sometimes I’m a hypocrite.

Sometimes I don’t get enough sleep and I snap at my husband.

Sometimes I don’t get enough sleep and I snap at my kids.

Sometimes I gossip.

Sometimes I judge people too quickly.

Sometimes I’m impatient.

Sometimes I’m just too damn tired to rinse out the peanut butter jar, and I throw it in the trash instead of the recycling bin which is right. next. to. it.

And you know what?  I refuse to beat myself up about any of the above.  If you’d like to beat me up for it, that’s certainly your prerogative.   Indeed, it’s easy and convenient to make a snap judgment about someone based on one real moment (I know… I’ve done that too…) rather than recognizing each other for what we really are: fellow travelers at various ports in this journey of life.  Growing through our trials, learning from our mistakes, and waking up each day with a new resolve to do better.  At the end of the day, we’re not much different, you and I.

I’m not yet the person I want to be, but that’s okay…. because He’s not done working on me yet.

And thank God for that.

16 Comments

Filed under about me, acceptance, growing up, hypocrisy, judgement, learning, life

February 14, 2012 · 10:13 AM

When is it okay to “judge”?

Judgment.  It’s a word I’ve seen so many times over the past few days, it has lost all meaning.  “Who are you to judge?”  “Well aren’t we judgmental” “It is not our place to judge….”  My blog post about Tommy Jordan has the distinction of being the post that garnered the most comments I’ve gotten with this particular word, ever.

 

And I’m okay with that.

 

Here are a few of the definitions of judge by dictionary.com:

 

8.  to form a judgment  or opinion of; decide upon critically: You can’t judge a book by its cover.
9.  to decide or settle authoritatively; adjudge: The censor judged the book obscene and forbade its sale.

10. to infer, think, or hold as an opinion; conclude about or assess:

13.  to act as a judge; pass judgment: No one would judge between us.
14.  to form an opinion or estimate: I have heard the evidence and will judge accordingly.
15.  to make a mental judgment.

 

When people read my blog – or anyone’s blog – or read anything on the internet, they do all of the above.  They form an opinion, they infer, they think.   Ironically, all the people pointing their finger at me at shouting, “You’re JUDGING, shame on you!!” are doing the exact same thing they’re accusing me of doing.  They’re forming an opinion of me based on a snap shot of whatever words I’ve chosen to share.

 

I think we’ve gotten so wrapped up in a “to each his own” kind of world, that we’re so careful of not “judging”,  that we try so hard to be politically correct, that it’s suddenly not okay to point to something and say, “Wow.   That is messed up.”  Unless of course you’re pointing to the person who’s doing the pointing.   Then apparently it’s okay.  Then you’re a defender of justice.   “Who are you to judge this person??? I  would NEVER judge a person without knowing all the details.”

 

Yesterday, a friend on Facebook posted that she’d overheard a neighbor calling her 15 year old daughter a “stupid asshole.”  The first comment said, “Maybe her daughter was acting like a stupid asshole.  Teenagers are known to.”   It was followed up with, “doesn’t make it right.  But I wouldn’t judge a parent for one bad moment.”   That word judge again.  Are we really so afraid of judging that it’s not okay to hold the opinion that calling your child a “stupid asshole” isn’t a very nice thing to do?

 

It doesn’t mean I think I’m better than anyone.
It doesn’t mean I think this person is a terrible parent.
It doesn’t mean that I haven’t made my own mistakes.
It doesn’t mean I’m an expert on their family dynamic.
It doesn’t mean that I think I’m perfect.  (more things I’ve heard over the past couple of days)

 

It simply means that I disagree – strongly – with that particular decision.  And honestly?  If I ever reached that breaking point, that point where I felt I had no other recourse than to hurl insults and obscenities at my child, I would hope that someone would judge me.   I would hope that someone would stand up and say, “Whoa.  Stop.  Jen, what are you doing?”

 

A runner-up to the “judgmental” comments was “hypocritical”.  I’m a hypocrite because I advocate for respect, but I don’t respect Tommy Jordan’s parenting choices.

 

I want to be very, very clear when I say this:  I respect a lot of choices that are different from my own.   As a stay-at-home mom, I respect working parents.  As a homeschooling parent, I respect parents whose children go to school.  As a heterosexual married woman, I respect same-sex couples.  As a Christian, I respect other beliefs.

 

I do not respect Tommy Jordan’s “parenting choice” to publicly intimidate, mock, and insult his daughter.

 

I don’t need to know more details to fairly come to that decision.  He chose to show us those eight minutes of his life, and that was more than enough for me.

 

But I don’t wish him ill.  In fact I hope that someone, somewhere can touch his life and help him and his daughter.   I hope that he’s receptive to that help.  I hope that the insane amount of notoriety that this video has brought upon his family can be somehow used in a positive way.   I hope that what he chose to show us was just a man having a really bad day, and that it was not indicative of his parenting as a whole.  I hope that his family is more peaceful and more connected than they appear.

 

I’m not angry at Tommy Jordan.  I’m sad for him.  I’m sad for his daughter.  I’m sad that the great public movement that has come out of this seems to be not learning from his example, but instead focusing our energies on attacking those who dare “judge” him.

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Filed under about me, blogging, hypocrisy, judgement, parenting