Category Archives: labels

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.

 

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

Books and Covers

 

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” 

Such an old, tired cliche, and one that has very nearly lost all meaning.  Sure, we pull it out from time to time, and make ourselves feel like it is a new revelation… but does anyone actually live by it?  From what I can see – both online and in the world around me – judging books by covers is not just still present, but very much alive and well.

A few weeks ago, I saw a comment on a blog from someone who said that in his mind, tattoos automatically mar a person’s inner beauty.  Now, I’m well aware that people feel that way, but having two tattoos myself (and I’m just getting started :)) the words still stung.  It’s one thing to have an opinion…. to not personally care for tattoos or dreadlocks or piercings or whatever… but to actually just look at a person, to see only their outer shell, and then make a decision about who they must be inside?  That’s a problem.

Last weekend, we did one of my very favorite things and went downtown to catch a Diamondbacks game.  They would lose, 5-0, but we didn’t know that yet.  We parked at our favorite $5 lot a few blocks from the stadium, and had walked most of the way there when we passed a homeless man sitting against a lamppost.  He looked to be in his 60’s, his skin dark and weathered from the Phoenix sun, and had nothing with him save for a hand-written sign that said simply, “Food.”

Living in a city this size, we see homeless people often.  I would never say I’ve gotten used to it – because I think we’re in trouble if we ever get used to such a thing – but it’s far from an unusual sight, especially in that part of town.  But here’s what I noticed on Friday night:

As we walked, we were sharing the sidewalk with two kids in their 20’s.  They looked… well, they looked like you’d expect two young people who’d just come out of a pub on a Friday night in downtown Phoenix to look.  They were tattooed.  They looked somehow totally chilled out and restless all at the same time.   Their pants were so low that I could very nearly see the bottom seam on their plaid boxers, and they were doing that weird waddle-walk that I’m assuming is necessary to keep them up.

“Are you hungry?”  They’d stopped in front of the homeless man just as we all passed.  “Here, take this.”  One of the young men handed him his plastic take-out container from the pub.  “We’ll bring you back some hotdogs, in case you’re still hungry later.  Bless you, brother,” he said as they walked away, and I lost sight of them as we all merged with the sea of people getting ready to enter the stadium.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Was there anything different about what they’d done than if they’d been well-dressed businessman in their 40’s?  Well, no.  A kindness is a kindness.  But the thing that I couldn’t stop thinking about – the thing that made me sad – was that just because they do happen to look a certain way,  they likely have to work even harder to disprove people’s preconceptions.  That they have to know that, just like that blog comment all those weeks ago, that there are going to be people who take one look at them and decide that they’re not as beautiful on the inside.  That they’re somehow less than.  Somehow less likely to be kind.  Somehow less likely to be giving.  Somehow less likely to be good.

And I think that if we’re being honest, we’ve all had or have something in this area that we can work on… some preconceived notion of how a person should be or think or act just because of the way they look.  And while I’ll never know who those kids were from the game, I’d like to thank them for reminding me once again that we need to knock it off.  Like, yesterday.

My kids are so naturally great at this.  So loving.  So accepting of differences.  I don’t want them to grow up in a world where it’s okay to think that anybody is “less than” just because of the way he looks.  That it’s okay to make a decision about somebody based on the way they dress, or the color of their hair, or the fact that they express themselves through piercings or tattoos.   I want them to know that a person isn’t more or less likely to be a good and kind soul just because of their outer packaging.

Unfortunately, yes, it’s a truth that sometimes people do bad things.  Oh but so very, very many people are good.

And until they’ve shown us otherwise through their actions, shouldn’t we be giving everyone the benefit of the doubt?

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Filed under acceptance, fears, kindness, labels, life

Rejecting Labels, and Loving What Is

A big thanks to Lisa DeBusk for today’s guest post!

Bad sleeper. Shy. Clingy. A follower. Smart. Imaginative. These are just a few of the labels I’ve used on my child. I’m starting to realize they’re just words and have nothing to do with who he is.

Every new parent has sleepless nights. Some of us have sleepless years. My son woke every twenty minutes or so in the beginning months, then he woke every hour for a while, and now that he’s three he occasionally sleeps through the night. Occasionally. He hasn’t taken a regular nap since he was two and a half, though as I type this he’s snoozing on the couch beside me at 6:00pm. He won’t be sleepy at bedtime tonight, and I’m ok with that.

Since Henry was born, I’ve fought off and on to get him on some kind of regular routine of sleeping and waking, and nothing I’ve tried has come remotely close to working. All the advice, all the parenting books, all the efforts have changed nothing about his sleep patterns, probably because he really doesn’t have a pattern. He resists routine and structure, despite what everyone says about all kids needing structure. I’ve accepted this about him and stopped fighting it.

Accepting that Henry doesn’t respond well to forced bedtimes and naps is just part of being this particular child’s mother. I know plenty of other children are put to bed wide awake and drift off to sleep on their own after a story and a lullaby, and some nights I would love for it to be that easy. But I’m ok with reading three or four books, improvising several stories on the spot (my son is only happy if I make up a new story every time, about characters with goofy names he creates), and singing three songs over and over while he lies on top of me, rubbing and sometimes scratching my arms. There have been several nights when this was absolutely not ok, and I even lost my temper a little while waiting for him to go to sleep. When I finally accepted that this was not going to change, that Henry was not suddenly going to make things easier for me just because I wanted him to, I made peace with it. He’s not a “bad sleeper.” He sleeps just fine. Not falling asleep exactly when and how I want him to doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with the way he sleeps.

I try not to call Henry “shy” or “clingy” in front of him, but I’m guilty of telling other people that he is. When I think of him as shy, it’s only because I’m comparing him to other children who are comfortable with running up to strangers and having a conversation. I was never that kind of kid, and Henry doesn’t need to be either. If he’s “clingy,” it’s because he’s three years old, and three-year-olds happen to love their mommies quite a bit. I love that he clings to me. When I find myself thinking of him as “clingy,” it’s a sign that I need a little break, some time to myself. I don’t always get a break, but that’s not my son’s fault.

Henry tends to choose one kid on a playground and follow that kid around, doing everything he does. Usually the kid is a bit older, but not always. He’s followed toddlers around, even pretending to cry when they do. I don’t know why he enjoys doing this, and perhaps I’ll never know, but I’ve stopped viewing it as a bad thing. Following other kids around is just what he enjoys, as simple as that.

The last two adjectives at the beginning of my post don’t seem like bad labels, but they can cause as much damage as the others. I know overpraising can lead to some less than desirable results, such as having a child who doesn’t try new or challenging things because he wants to maintain the “smart” label. I try to resist calling him smart for every little thing he does. Remaining neutral is usually the best option, but it’s also natural for a parent to praise her kid. Children probably have the best chance for a good life if they have parents who accept them as they are without labeling any of their actions as either “good” or “bad.” No, that’s not good enough. I don’t think it’s enough to merely accept the way our children are. Instead, everyone is better off if we allow ourselves to love the way our children are, even when it causes us inconvenience, disappointment, or concern. It all comes back, as always, to unconditional love.

Lisa DeBusk is a mom, piano teacher, and writer. She writes about parenting, religion, health, culture, and politics. You can find her writing about gentle parenting at Soulful Parenting.   

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Filed under acceptance, guest posts, labels, parenting

Too shy? There’s a med for that.

Once you label me, you negate me.  ~Soren Kierkegaard

I am:

shy
ADD
depressed
anxious
too sensitive
bi-polar

ME.  I am me.  I won’t be defined by a label… not yours, not mine, and not the “experts'”.   I am me.

And my kids?  They’re my kids.  They’re people, each one of them individuals.  They are not a set of characteristics or facets or “quirks.”  They are not a description in a book or a pamphlet in the pediatrician’s waiting room.  They are not hypothetical.  They are not like anybody else. They are not mere ingredients of a whole, or something to be molded or refined or altered to fit into a certain box.    They do not need to be diagnosed.  They do not need to be labeled.

This article, from Health Impact News, says that 650,000 kids are already on Ritalin.   As if that’s not enough, children who are too quiet or ‘moody’ or not as social as their peers now “run the risk of being diagnosed with mental illnesses and given powerful drugs like Prozac, psychologists have warned.”  Not as chatty as the kid sitting next to you?  Must be social anxiety disorder.  Sad because your betta fish died?  Clearly you’re clinically depressed.  Voiced a contrary opinion to someone in charge?  Why, that’s surely caused by your oppositional defiant disorder.

I think the thing that bothers me the most about this disturbingly increasing use of labels (and subsequent dispensing of medication to “treat” them) is this end goal of making everyone somehow the same.  The quiet kids need to be more outgoing.  But not too outgoing.  The energetic kids need to calm down.  But not too much.  The kids who are too rigid and regimented need to relax.  But just a little.  The ones who are making up stories in their head and looking out the window… well, they need to learn. to. focus.   Let’s just take away all their differences, and all their uniqueness, and all their personalities.   Let’s make everyone NORMAL.

But wait.  I have a question.  Who the hell decides what “normal” is?  And why is it something I’d ever want myself or my kids to strive for? I don’t want “normal” lives for my kids. I want happy. I want healthy. I want full, and rich, and interesting.

I want them to know that there isn’t something wrong with them because they are too quiet. Or too loud. Or if they learn quickly or slowly or in a different way than the kid sitting next to them. Or walk differently or talk differently or think differently. I want them to know that they were created exactly the way they were created for a reason. I want them to know that they are not a label, and they are not a box-filler, and they are not automatically a member of whatever group someone else wants to lump them in with.

This is not to say that I think we should ignore it when our children are unhappy or struggling in some way. In fact the opposite is true. I think it’s our job as parents to continually ask ourselves how we can best meet their individual needs. I think it’s our job to ask ourselves what we could do make their lives even better. What we could do to help make their lives more happy and peaceful and fulfilling. They don’t need someone to try to fix them or change them to fit inside someone else’s ideal, but someone who’ll just love them, exactly as they are. Someone who will pay attention to their needs, support them in their interests, and respect their individuality. In the end, what they need is a parent who will stand up and say, “You know what, I’m on your side.”

When I first began writing this post, I was going to share my experiences as a parent to a child that everyone wanted to label from the time he was a toddler. But I’ve decided it’s not my story to tell. It’s his story, to eventually share or not share however he sees fit. I am not in his head, and I am not in his body. I’m just lucky enough to be his mom.

I can, however, tell you what it’s like to be me. I can tell you what it’s like to have the labels I’ve crossed out up above (which, by the way, are real words I’ve heard to describe myself at various times in my life). I can tell you that I am not those labels. I can tell you that I’m just me… with flaws and warts and awesomeness just like anyone else. I can tell you that I’ve learned that the minute I let myself get defined by a label is the minute that my life gets smaller, and the minute that the world gets a little less colorful and a little less free. It’s the minute that doors close instead of open, and the minute that the glass that was once half-full suddenly becomes bone dry.

I don’t want that for myself, and I don’t want it for my kids.

And so, we celebrate being authentically US. We celebrate differences. We recognize and embrace the fact that those differences that school or society might tell us are weird or crazy or wrong… are actually something pretty darn wonderful.

 

 

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Filed under kids, labels, parenting, unschooling

Unschooling and Unparenting: What’s In a Label

 

A few years ago, there was a piece on one of those nightly new programs (20/20, Dateline, or something similar) entitled, “The Dark Side of Homeschooling.” Against my better judgment, I watched it. The story was about a family that claimed to homeschool – because they wanted to keep the authorities away from their house – while they abused and neglected their children. The kids were living in squalor, existing amidst rotting food and feces. It was a horrific, heartbreaking story.

Now, a logical, thinking person would watch something like this and know that despite its gratuitous title, it is not about homeschooling. It has nothing to do with homeschooling, and everything to do with abuse and neglect, things that sadly can (and do) take place among ALL educational paths, ALL different socioeconomic and religious backgrounds. It’s not about homeschooling. The problem arises from the fact that not everyone is a logical, thinking person. There are people who watch things like this, people who may already have a bias or a poor understanding of homeschooling, and unfairly use it as further fuel… justification to continue to mistrust, misunderstand, or hold animosity towards alternative means of education.

This is why I’m never really thrilled by the idea of homeschooling or unschooling being in the media, and why I think it’s so important that we’re mindful of our wording when we talk about them. Words DO matter, especially when a poorly chosen word gives the wrong impression.

Earlier this week, I read a blog post about homeschooling “extremes” that used words that I just couldn’t reconcile in my mind with unschooling. I have since read it over and over, and I believe the author’s intentions were good … but that she ended up missing the mark.

The first thing that caught my attention was the phrase, “hands off.” If you look at a school-at-home style of homeschooling, one in which the mother assigns work, gives tests, and prescribes a set of a “must-do’s” as “hands on”, then I suppose the opposite of that would be hands off. Unschoolers don’t assign work, they don’t give tests, they don’t prescribe a set of “must-do’s” They do not direct their children’s learning at all. The problem with the description of “hands off” though, is that unschoolers are quite the opposite of hands-off! Unschooling parents are there on the floor playing with their kids. They’re in the backyard looking at worms and mud puddles and butterflies. They’re in the kitchen, making cookies. They’re in the library, helping to find books on photosynthesis or engineering or stingrays or whatever the newest passion may be. They’re in the car, driving to scouts or baseball or gymnastics. They’re answering questions, providing supplies, and playing games. They’re fetching scissors, they’re holding tape measures steady, and they’re making life-size chalk drawings in the driveway.

They’re present. They’re involved. They’re hands-on. Regardless of the original intention of the words, hearing a phrase like “hands off” doesn’t help anyone understand unschooling.

But what has really stayed with me – and quite honestly, confused me – was her assertion that “unparenting” was a common term used within unschooling circles. And by all means, my unschooling circle is not very large. I went to my first unschooling conference three years ago, and began reaching out on the internet even more recently. But I’ve talked to hundreds of unschoolers, and not once have I ever heard anyone claim to be an “unparent.” In fact the only time I’ve heard the term referred to by an unschooler has been in the context of:

Unschoolers do NOT unparent.

By its very nature, the word itself is a negative word. The prefix “UN-” means “NOT.” And the word “parent” (per my standby, dictionary.com) means “to be or act as a mother, father, protector, guardian” *English lesson over* So I’m left wondering, why would an unschooler – or anyone for that matter – embrace a label that literally means to NOT act as a protector? As a guardian?

Make no mistake… radical unschoolers do parent differently than the traditional, authoritative model of parenting that many people are used to seeing. They believe in giving their children freedom, and they allow their children to be autonomous when it comes to decisions about things like bedtimes, meals, and media usage (three big ones that are frequently mentioned) But within that framework of freedom there is loving support. There is guidance. There is protection. There is parenting. Yes, it may look different from “because I’m the parent and I said so” parenting, but it is parenting. Based on the word alone, unparenting, or “not parenting” isn’t a style of parenting. It’s neglect.

Take my bedtime example up above….

A) In a more traditional household, a good and loving parent would probably have set a specific bedtime based on their family’s needs. They may follow a schedule when it comes to things like getting ready for bed. They may do a snack. They may do a bath, read books, say prayers, and say goodnight with a hug and a kiss.

B) In an unschooling household, a good and loving parent would probably allow their child the freedom to follow their own internal clock when it comes to sleep (which works for most unschooling families) As the evening winds down, they may watch TV together or play together. Parents and children go to bed when they are individually ready. They may do a bath, read books, say prayers, and say goodnight with a hug and a kiss.

C) In a non-parenting household, the ‘parent’ may ignore the signs of a tired child altogether. There are no goodnights, no hugs and kisses, no winding down together. There is no protection. There is no guidance. There is no parenting.

Parent A and Parent B do things differently, but the end result is the same…. a child who goes to bed feeling loved, safe, and protected.

Parent C, the unparent, is neglecting their child.

Now I have to be honest and share that during the couple of days that I was working on this post, a friend pointed me a website that showed me that there is indeed an entire positive movement calling itself “unparenting.” Some of its tenants are unconditional acceptance, engaged listening, authentic responses, getting to know your child inside and out, lightening up and finding humor, being a friend, and excavating joy…. which are absolutely beautiful and SO MUCH a part of how I parent!

Oh but that label…

I don’t want to parent according to someone else’s set of rules and guidelines. I don’t want to be bound by a label – ANY label – that can only serve to further misconceptions and prejudices, to box me in in someone’s mind, to lump me in a category with anyone else. Unschooling itself is so misunderstood – so misunderstood! – and I can’t believe that there’s any good to be had in using labels that literally mean “not parenting” when talking about it to others. It will not help people understand it, and it will only make it harder for those just trying to live their lives under the watchful eye of skeptical outsiders.

I have many friends who parent differently than I do. Friends who I respect, and friends who I admire. And while I may not always agree with all the decisions that they make – and vice-versa – I do know, without a doubt, that they love their children as fiercely as I do. I know that they would take a bullet for their kids, gladly. I know that they are good parents.

And I would hope that when they talk about me, and my own parental choices, that it’s not within the limits of a confusing and negative-sounding label like “unparenting.” I would hope that they too know, without a doubt, how fiercely I love my children. That I would take a bullet for my kids, gladly. That I am a good parent, with no labels, and no qualifiers.

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Filed under labels, parenting, unschooling