Lock Up Your Daughters....

No, really. There's people like this out there, sitting right next to her in math class, and you don't even know it. Scary, isn't it?

What's even scarier is the possibility that HE doesn't even know it.

Of the seemingly countless lessons that should be learned from the Steubenville rape case, perhaps one of the most important is that our sons and daughters need to know what rape is, and that it's wrong. They need to know, boys and girls alike, that no matter how a girl is dressed, or how drunk or high she is, or how much she flirts, that she is not "asking for it," and it is NOT ok to have sex with her without her express consent. The inability to say "no" is not implied consent. The inability to speak coherently, or to speak at all, is not implied consent. In fact, there IS NO "implied" consent. There is only consent. Black and white. Yes or no.

I think (hope) that we can all agree that what those two boys did is wrong. What's even more disturbing, however, is the number of other teenagers who were involved: planning to get the victim to the party and get her drunk, watching, laughing, and even taking pictures and distributing them on the internet. At seemingly no point did anyone think this is wrong and try to put a stop to it. Instead, they egged the boys on, took pictures, and sent texts to their friends about what was going on at the party. Even after Sunday's guilty verdict, Trent Mays' apology refused to take responsibility for the rape, instead only owning up to taking the pictures and sending them out. It seems clear that the boys, as well as the other partygoers, didn't consider what they were doing rape.

While frightening, it's unfortunately not surprising. CNN's coverage of the verdict sounds more like a lament for the poor, misunderstood teenage boys than it does a celebration of justice for a 16-year-old girl who was sexually assaulted. The clip starts out innocently enough, with CNN anchor Candy Crowley commenting on the emotional climate in the courtroom as the verdict was read, and reporter Poppy Harlow agreeing that it was "incredibly emotional" and "incredibly difficult, even for an outsider" to watch as the verdict was read. Lest you find yourself nodding in sympathy for the victim and her family, however, Harlow quickly clues you in to the REAL victims in this case: the two "promising" young men who "litrally" watched their "lives fall apart." It just gets worse from there.

Lady, I got news for you: when you're convicted of sexually assaulting an underage girl, your life SHOULD fall apart. Yes, it's sad that they made the choices they made, and I'm sure their families are extremely emotional, but I cannot imagine that their pain holds a candle to that of a girl that was raped, naked pictures and videos of her distributed among her peers and all over the internet. As the mother of a young girl, I can also not imagine what her parents must feel. Harlow isn't the only one who misplaces blame, either; a good friend of mine discussed the case and its media coverage with some of her law students, and the majority of them indicated that they considered the attack the girl's fault. Their responses varied from "she was drunk" to "she was asking for it" and everywhere in between, but an alarming number of these teenagers, girls included, placed at least part of the blame on the victim. Even the well-known satirical news outlet The Onion noted, , more than two years ago, that our culture tends to marginalize the victim in favor of the handsome, popular athlete. If this young woman had been assaulted by a stranger on the street, no one would say it was ok. If she had been male, and sexually assaulted by her classmates, no one would say it was ok. But somehow, because she made poor decisions in the company of people she knew and trusted, we are able to rationalize the boys' actions.

I'm not naive. I'm around teenagers all day. Hell, I was one myself not all THAT long ago. I'm not clueless enough to think that my daughter will never make poor decisions, or lie to me, or even find herself in a similar situation to the victim of these two young men. I find that I'm terrified of that possibility, not because I don't trust future Charlotte's future decisions, but because I don't trust the culture and society that will shelter her as she makes her future decisions and, yes, future mistakes. I don't trust the way our society treats its women, and I am enraged that those who point out the discrimination are so frequently branded "feminists" or "radicals." Why is it so radical to ask that every person is treated with respect, regardless of what body parts he or she was born with?

I'm also terrified, perhaps even more so, to be the mother of a boy in that same society. It is MY responsibility to teach him how to view and behave toward women. It might seem like overkill to worry about that now, when he's two months old, but I can't help feeling like every lesson I teach him now will shape him into the brother, friend, boyfriend, and husband that he will become. I'm sure that neither of the mothers of the two Steubenville football players ever looked at her son in his cradle and wished for him to one day become a rapist. They probably didn't sit next to them in the courtroom and think of their sons, 16 and 17 years old, as rapists. But somewhere along the way, that's exactly what those boys became. And while I believe that the boys must take responsibility for their actions, I also wonder if parents should bear at least some responsibility for the men and women their children become. It is up to us, after all, to teach our children right and wrong, and to take responsibility for their actions and own up to their mistakes. I know that I am the person I am today largely because of the lessons my parents taught me, and the experiences and opportunities that I had because of them. And I know that I feel that burden every time I look at my son and daughter. I can only hope that I carry it well, that I can guide my children to become valuable, conscientious members of society...and that society respects and values them in return.

G is for...

Last night, a friend of mine posted this article on Facebook. I don’t normally read everything people post, but the title “What No One Has the Right to Say to Other Moms” intrigued me, so I clicked on the link. I found myself in tears by the time I got to the end.

I just gave birth to my second child two short months ago, and the thing I’ve learned above all is that adding a second child to your family adds more than twice the work, more than twice the sleep deprivation, more than twice the frustration, more than twice the GUILT. And, yes, more than twice the love. Why, then, is it often so difficult for mothers to get past all of the frustration and guilt and allow ourselves the opportunity to genuinely enjoy the moments of love and joy that our children bring to our lives?

Part of the answer, at least, can be found in the same article, where the author provides a link to this gem. (In a slightly ironic, meta-Mommy moment, I was reading these articles on my iPhone, locked in my bathroom while my 4-year-old pounded on the door and demanded to know what I was doing in there.)

I get it. I really do. Childhood goes by in the blink of an eye. I’m pretty sure that my 4-year old was a newborn, like, last week. She twirls in her princess dresses and begs me to play dolls with her and swing her at the park. Sometimes I do…and sometimes I don’t.

Sure, on the surface it may seem obviously selfish to ignore your children while glued to your iPhone. We’ve all had mommy moments where we look at other parents and smirk inwardly that we are so much better at it than they are. In reality, however, the iPhone is just a metaphor, a symbol that could really be replaced by a book, magazine, TV show, computer, sibling, partner, or any other person. It’s an object, representative of Mommy’s Attention. The message here is that Mommy must devote all of her attention, 100% of the time, to watching her children’s every move, and, more importantly, that if she doesn’t, she’s a BAD MOMMY.

As if we don’t have enough guilt. As if we could ever live up to our own standards of mommy greatness. As if we need some other self-righteous person judging us by a 30-second snapshot of our actions. As if.

My own guilt could eat me alive. Earlier this week, I was talking to my husband about when our son might be weaned from nursing. I’m going on a week-long business trip in June, so I mentioned that if he wasn’t weaned by then, it would probably happen while I was gone. Immediately, I began to question whether I should go; it was not the first time I had done so. The trip is to Louisville, KY, to read AP exams, which I have wanted to do for several years and which should provide an immense opportunity for professional development and networking. It’s an opportunity that’s by invitation only, and I’m super stoked…except for the enormous guilt that I feel every time I think about leaving my family for a week. It’s not just being away from the baby, though that’s a large part of it. I also feel guilty for leaving my husband to take care of our two children alone for a week (though, let’s be honest, men travel for work all the time, without a second thought). I feel guilty for leaving my 4-year-old daughter, who is already convinced every time she loses sight of me that I’m never coming back. And I feel guilty because I’m excited at the prospect to be going on this trip, even though it means being away from my family for a week. Do you see a theme here? I’m torn; I want to be a good mother, a good wife, a good teacher. So why does it feel like I can only be good at one of those things at a time? Why do I have to pick?

I think this is a problem that is somewhat unique to women in our society. I’m not by any means saying that fatherhood is easy, or that fathers lack dedication or don’t make sacrifices for their children and families, but I really don’t think they have the same experiences that mothers have. I remember a few years ago when my husband stayed home with our sick daughter while I went to work, one of his (female) colleagues questioned “why his wife couldn’t do it.” Even other women are programmed to view childcare as a woman’s job, and raise questions when the mother isn’t there to fulfill that role.

I find that unspeakably sad. Why do we, as women and mothers, feel the need to judge other moms? What her kids are wearing, eating, saying, doing. Whether she breastfeeds (a great discussion of the great breastfeeding debate can be found here). What school her kids attend and activities they do. Whether she’s lost the baby weight or still carries a few of her pregnancy battle scars. Whether she’s washed her hair this week, or has spit-up on her clothes. I know; I do it all the time. I’m constantly measuring myself and my child against other mommies and their children. How much better would it be, though, if we supported rather than judged? Who better to empathize with a new (or not so new) mother’s experiences than one who is going or has gone through the same thing? Our friends and partners may provide a shoulder to cry on or nod in agreement with whatever we say (yes, dear…), but no one understands motherhood like another mother. I know that sounds smug and sanctimonious, but it’s the truth. Yet we, who are hardest on ourselves, are often also hardest on each other.

I feel that it’s so important to give yourself, and others, permission to be human, and that means giving yourself, and others, permission to fail. I feel that it’s important that, even though you’re a mommy, you’re a person as well. It is NOT the end of my daughter’s world if she has to play dolls by herself so Mommy can make a phone call or read a book. I believe that my children will be healthier for understanding that their parents are individuals with lives and interests that sometimes don’t revolve around Doc McStuffins and tea parties. I believe it’s important to know that I don’t stop being me just because I am also Mommy, and that they will learn to be stronger and more independent if they don’t rely on me for attention and gratification every second of their lives. I believe that it’s a skill that will serve them well in the future, when they are students, teammates, friends, and someone’s husband and wife. I believe that most mommies recognize, in some teeny, tiny part of our brains, that motherhood will use us up if we let it. Some mommies are ok with that; others are not. Some parents feel that everything else in life comes second to raising their children; others recognize that if we aren’t good to ourselves, we won’t be any good to our families. Neither choice is necessarily wrong, unless it’s being made because the mother feels pressured to do so.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m tired of the constant judgment that seems inherent with parenthood. Our lives as mothers would be so much easier with the support of our fellow moms, and in turn our children’s lives would be better. Everyone wins. So, I refuse to be judged. And you, judgmental mommy at the park—try paying less attention to what I’m doing wrong. You may be missing out on some of your own magical moments while you’re watching me on my iPhone. I appreciate your concern, but don’t worry…my kids will be fine, and just as importantly, so will I.