Girls’ Speak

We have three children, a boy of 12 and girls of 11 and 9.  We talk – they have views.  Strong views, at times.  We chat with our children openly about gender issues, violence, mental health, sexuality and endless other topics that so many either avoid completely, or only feel safe to whisper about behind closed doors.  I pass no judgement on other parents’ decisions; selecting when it is the right time to talk with children is an individual choice.  I find it bemusing when others feel justified to comment on our conversation topics with the children, but perhaps their judgements originate from that place of insecurity within all of us as parents.

I worry more about my daughters in terms of their safety, their self-esteem, their empowerment and the messages they are getting from home, the media and society about who they should be.  I asked my daughters if they would like to be part of this blog, and both were eager.  The little one said “I would be honoured, Mama!”  To protect my children’s identity online, I let the girls choose names for themselves.  Curiously, both chose …. sort of ‘stage’ names.   The 11 yr old chose “Candy-Rose”*, the 9 year old “Bambi”.

*I was instructed that the ‘a’ in Candy-Rose is to be written as a lollipop and the ‘o’ as a flower, but the IT is letting me down.

The girls chose a range of topics and then I spoke with them each on their own to make sure they gave their own answers (or the younger one would copy!)

What’s growing up like for boys?

Bambi – Sometimes they can get hormones a lot and they might get a bit angry.

Candy-Rose – They go through a stage where they can get moody and aggressive and start to lose other people’s opinion. 

What is growing up like for girls?

Bambi – It could be stressful for them, they might get upset that nobody likes them.

Candy-Rose – Girls can have body-hate and low self-esteem.  And feel excluded, like on their own.  They can be not-sure about stuff, from like what to eat for breakfast to like what to do with boys.

 

What is equality?

Bambi – It’s 50% to women and 50% to men, and men and women can do the same things.  Sometimes we have equality but like for football [at school], boys say “I’m going on the pitch today because I’m a boy”.

Candy-Rose – Stuff like comparison, people comparing people to others…..Some days, some children come in with new pencil cases and say they went shopping, and that puts a lot of pressure on the children who don’t get treated much because there’s no money.  Nowadays, there are a lot of sayings like “Girl Power” which is really good but then some boys can’t get over the fact that in some subjects girls are better, and they don’t like it and they can get feisty.

Puberty

Bambi – Puberty can be a bit tricky and a bit embarrassing… because when you get your… like, period ….. and it leaks and you don’t have one of them little things, a sanitary towel, then you might get a bit embarrassed.

Candy-Rose – Different for different people….like some people have it at 10 or an older up age.  It can be very hard on children if you don’t have people to go to and talk about it.  If you don’t have the right equipment like if you don’t have a shaver and you have like pretty much a beard, and you have to go to school with it and you get an award in assembly in front of the school…..it’s damaging for the child.  I think my biggest worry is if I’m at school and I get my period and I have no one to go to.

 

Rape

Bambi – A boy assaults a girl, makes them have sex and they’re mean and they don’t purposefully say “Do you want to do this as well?”…. They just say “Right, we’re doing this now.”

Candy-Rose – I don’t think everyone knows the actual meaning of rape and I think some people just joke about it.  Like when I was in class and I walked in the gap behind a girl and she said “Oh geez, CR, don’t rape me!” And I said to her“Don’t joke about it.”

Trump

Bambi – He is creating most of the problems of equality and stuff…..He’s offensive because he says like ‘It doesn’t matter much about consent’ and he’s building a wall even though the people in Mexico don’t want him to…….

Candy-Rose – He’s just crazy!  I don’t think how he thinks people will listen to him and I don’t get how people voted for him in America.  He has no care for the environment or people.  What did the world do to him that he has that anger in him to do that to America?  If it were me, I’d be honoured to be leader of America, absolutely honoured.  Obama was so great how he listened to his people.  Trump – he just doesn’t care less.   How he can have so much hatred for women to say “Grab them by the…” you know, that phrase — to be like that is so stupid.  They need to get some common sense into him.  He needs to listen to the people, and the children….and most of all, the women.

Consent

Bambi- If someone says no, no means no, don’t persuade them…and that if you really loved them you wouldn’t force them into anything.

Candy-Rose – Not all people think consent is important.  It doesn’t just mean the women just saying “yes” because they might have been pressured, or really drunk.  If the woman isn’t sure about it or is unconscious or feeling pressured, or doesn’t want to do it, or is drunk – that’s rape.  So what you need is for the girl to be really happy about it.  Or it is not consent, and then the man will fight about it in court.  But being pressured into saying “……okay then……” is not consent.

 

What would make growing up as a girl perfect?

Bambi – That boys be nicer and not that rough.  And that the world was made out of chocolate.

Candy-Rose – If there was a heart detector so it would detect when a girl is ready to kiss a boy or live with them or marry them…. and if they’re not, then the boy can’t come within a metre of them like a forcefield…..and the heart detector would always give a true reading of the girl’s feelings.

‘Candy-Rose’ and ‘Bambi’, Home Spa Day, July 2016

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Sex Is Not a Swear-Word

*Trigger warning – passing reference to sexual harm

Summertime and we’re staying with friends in suburban Toronto. I am eight years old, our friends’ daughter Bonnie, is eighteen. The middle child of five, she is vivacious and spirited – a law unto herself; even at eight, I recognise this and I love it about her. With long flowy skirts, jangly jewellery and boho sandals, she is full of panache. Her hair is always messy, but a gorgeous type of mess, as though it could be deliberate. Bonnie is the older sister I never had, yet wistfully imagine and always long for. I am absolutely in awe of her, and in my little-girl mind, she is every bit as wildly glorious as I dream of becoming one day.
Early risers, we are out on the hills walking together, sometime after 7am, just me and Bonnie with her family’s two dogs. Bonnie does the talking and I listen quietly, mesmerised by her lyrical stream. As she chatters away about ‘teenagery’ things, I am only half paying attention to her stories, busy drinking in the magic of the hot summer morning, the buzz of cicada bugs in the grass, and the wonder of Bonnie.
Suddenly, I hear her say the word “sexy” in a sentence.
I stop in my tracks, my eyes wide and sparkling with the childhood naughtiness of hearing her utter the ‘s’-word, and I clamp a small hand over my mouth to stifle my nearly-escaping giggles. No one else is around, but I relish in the delightfulness of Bonnie’s rebel act, knowing full well children aren’t meant to hear that word – I mean everyone knows it’s a ‘swear’!

 

Bonnie stops, too. She looks at me intently, as though she can hear my thoughts, and speaks to me now in a gentle, serious tone:
“Hey – ‘sex’ isn’t a bad word, you know. Sex is beautiful! With the right guy, it is the most amazing thing ever – it’s incredible…. Don’t forget that, you’ll see one day, when you’re older….”

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We reflect in silence, pondering her short soliloquy which hangs between us in the humid July air. Bonnie’s expression becomes dreamy as she gazes into the distance, drifting someplace else in her mind. I feel like she’s shared an adult snapshot of truth with me that I am not meant to know, and I can’t yet fully understand.  Feeling a rush of uncontainable excitement, I hold onto it tightly.
Bonnie can’t possibly ever know how the grown-up secret she gives me out on the hill in the mid-summer heat that morning will stay with me. Neither can I, for that matter. Her words remain preserved in a dusty file on a shelf in my mind until I need them. And need them I do – many times over, in the decade ahead.

*********************

As a teen, my outlook on sex becomes all-too-soon tainted by distress left in the wake of harmful sexual encounters – including sexual assault, harassment and stalking. Intimacy, even when safe and respectful, leaves me wrestling with a rising panic. Any possibility of personal pleasure is trampled on by my hurried steps to conceal my fear and control the anxiety. Alcohol is my trusted security blanket, reliably creating a comforting haze around my awareness and helping me relax. Simply put, drunk sex seems the easiest solution.

During these years of flightiness, partying and short-term relationships, I revisit Bonnie’s legendary words in that dusty file in my mind frequently, and they continue to intrigue me. What had she meant? How did she find the utopian moments she had vaguely alluded to that day on our walk? I never doubt the validity of her message – she had spoken from her heart with such earnest conviction. Though I struggle to see little, if any, evidence of it now. What I fail to acknowledge is that this illusion of negativity I carry is merely a falsehood created by previous sexual harm, which is blighting my perspective on it all.

It’s early autumn, I’m seeing someone new, and after a few dates and lots of great conversation, we have dinner at my house. Wine, more talking and kissing on the sofa ensue. The mutual attraction is palpable, and I ask him to stay the night. He eagerly accepts the invitation, even happens to have a toothbrush with him?! But he then makes it clear that he is not assuming we will have sex our first night together.
Yeah, right…. A ploy, surely! I am no genius, but I’m not stupid, either.
But no, he truly means it, and in that very moment, as the pressure vanishes, those gloomy clouds which cast their shadows over sex begin to dissipate. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like a demand, or an expectation that I have no control over.

I could end it there, though that’s perhaps cruel….?
Okay. Yes, he stayed, no we didn’t, and yes I went into work tired and smiling the next morning. And not long after, yes, we did.
Then, Bonnie’s immortal words she had told me all those years ago, finally made sense.

Bonnie, if you’re reading this, you were right – thank you x

Writing Freely

I have started this website as I’ve begun to write more and more.  My writing is becoming free – more the type of writing which originates from that core part of my soul that you can’t see.  Writing freely.  And it is filling up my “Writing” folder (uninspiringly named) on my laptop.  So really, I see this page as an extension of that folder, just somewhere else to stash my words, because there are lots.

If this writing gets read – great.

If it inspires, moves, touches, lifts or affects anyone – even better.

Thanks for visiting x

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