My little girls are watching you. When you wear shorts so short that we can see your underwear. Except you aren’t wearing any. They notice. When you eagerly flirt with the boys and desperately vie for their attention. They see that, too. They listen as you dumb yourself down to impress those around you. The cadence and pitch of your voice with its not so subtle likes and OMGs. They see you leaving that other girl out and cracking a joke about her clothes or weight. And they learn how girls are supposed to act. To think. To feel.
Not from me. From you.
You think my little girls are so cute and you don’t mind hanging out with them, walking around the basketball game or having them on the sideline cheering with you at the football game but what kind of role model are you being when they are with you? What kind of role model are you being with they are not with you? Do you even realize?
They watch and listen to everything you do.
You teach them that their natural beauty isn’t good enough. That their worth is measured by what they look like. That they need make up and highlights and skimpy clothes and a specific lingo to be cool. Right now, to them, pretty much everything is cool. Especially you. They long to have you around and play with you and to talk to you. You are a big kid and one day, they will be like you, they want to be like you: cheerleader, soccer player, drum major, class president, dancer.
As much as I’d love to take credit for who they will be I am aware that so much more than my love is shaping who they are. They are watching and listening to everything. And fortunately or unfortunately for them – only time will tell – having a Mom that teaches high school means that they will be forever surrounded by older kids figuring themselves out, exacerbating my girls’ own personal discovery. But they aren’t around you just at Mommy’s school. They see you at the movie theatre or in the mall. At the grocery store or Target or at the yogurt place or pumping gas. You are everywhere they go.
They can’t quit you.
And once, not long ago, you were their age, too. Soaking in all the sights and sounds and smells of what it truly means to be a big girl. You longed for the big girls to take your hand and whisk you off, away from Mommy, into the abyss of the big girl world even if it was for just a moment. So you could get a glimmer of what life may be like. It’s how you got to this place. By watching and waiting. By immolating and identifying.
I probably understand you much better than I understand my five year old. And part of my anxiety comes from knowing the path of the next ten years. My daughters will change, swiftly and not so gently from little girl to teenager with very little time tween. And to be perfectly honest, you make this process so difficult.
Because somewhere between self exploration and discovery you skipped over lack of self worth and it radiates in your clothes, words and attitude. Somehow, you got the message that sassy words were better than a respectful intonation, that looking trashy was more popular than being modest, that putting others down was how you build yourself up, that respect had to be given to you before it could be earned from you. You’ve somehow gotten the message that in order to succeed, we have to separate into the have and the have nots. The us over the them. You’ve come to the conclusion that being yourself is less desirable to the world than being anyone else.
I can only figure that is why you do and say and wear the things that you do.
Somehow, in the midst of this social media madness and new age feminism, the idea of being yourself and doing you has been misconstrued.
Strong, independent, and daring young women are redefining these terms to mean wild, explicit, and, well, rude. There are very few young ladies I would choose to have my girls around as role models to look up to.
It’s not because of the booty shorts (although, those really have gotten out of control). It’s the attitude. The eye rolling. The can’t be bothered. It’s more than just traditional teenage angst. It’s the everything else in this world is more important than what is really important. It’s the Kardashian Conundrum. You know – the idea that everyone can be famous for nothing. It’s the likes and the tweets and the insta world that you exist in. I don’t want my little girls to feel like this. To act like this. To look like this.
No. It’s not your job to raise my girls, that’s mine. But it is your job to be responsible. To listen to yourself. To your friends. What are you saying to each other. What are you promoting. It’s your responsibility to do kindness. To set high goals. To have high standards. To think about what you are putting out in the world for it represents you. When you, as a generation, lower your standards and expectations it changes the future. That’s your legacy.
Do you want your legacy for women to be measured by the inseam of your booty shorts?
When they are with you, I want my little girls to feel protected and safe – to know that they are worthy because of their intelligence and their individuality. I want you to wrap your arms around them and embrace them for who they are – for they love you for the same. Protect them from being over-sexualized by not over-sexualizing yourself. Be the women that they see – be the beauty that your mother sees. Don’t flaunt your features. Find your fierceness. Redefine beauty and re-image innocence. Rage against the media manufactured definition of what it means to be powerful.
When you abdicate your power to someone else – anyone: boy, media standards, friend – you tell my daughters it’s okay to be anything other than who they are. And to buy into the trends, the taunts, the trauma.
It’s not okay. For them. Or for you.
Be young and carefree, yes. Be wild and experience the world and soak all the marrow out of life. Yes. But don’t confuse living with a twitter hashtag (#YOLO). To be young and free does not give you free reign to neglect your own sense of self or to abandon all sense of pride.
Soak all the marrow out of life refers to living intently and freely.
And realizing that one day you will be gone and someone will take your place.
Write stories of loving so much that living wasn’t possible without the other person. Create music that feeds their souls in a way that they can’t help to dance. Be the change that you desperately need – don’t give in to the standards that have been set. Set your own standards. Redefine this world.
Because the world, right now, hate girls.
Combat that by loving yourself. And each other.
Because when you do this – you will help teach my girls that their power is best fueled with love.
How’s that for a legacy?
ladybug and lulu 