Leave Him Alone: Microaggressions in Pre-K and Elementary School

Photo: Me! All rights reserved.

Our school district has recently started a new task force looking at minority achievement. In such a resource rich district, but also with many social inequalities, its unsurprising but still really angering that we have disparities in the rate of college readiness, standardized test scores, and simply personal experiences. The number of times I’ve heard truly devastating stories of how kids are treated based on their racial, ethnic, or linguistic background is simply appalling in a school district that touts how progressive it is.

The creation of the task force got me thinking (as always) about my family’s experiences here. My children are in the second and third grades (and another a few years behind them), and we’ve been dealing with little things — microaggressions — since we started here four years ago. Microaggressions, a term coined by Dr. Chester M. Pierce, a professor of education and psychiatry at Harvard University, in the 1970s, refers to  “everyday insults, indignities and demeaning messages sent to people of color by well-intentioned white people who are unaware of the hidden messages being sent to them.” I believe that my children’s teachers believed they were helping my kids — and my husband and I as parents. But their words and actions did a lot more harm than they realized.

Here’s a sampling of our experiences, from my point of view when they occurred:

Continue reading “Leave Him Alone: Microaggressions in Pre-K and Elementary School”

The Difficulties of Parenthood

Written by CocoaMamas contributor Tracy B.

The other day my oldest son asked me if it was hard being a parent. I pondered his question purposefully and I prepared a response that would hopefully help him understand how seriously his father and I take parenting and also, how carefully we chose it and consider ourselves blessed by the privilege.

I told him yes – parenting is hard, because we want to do our collective and personal best to be the best parents to him and his little brother. It is also rewarding because we get to see ourselves in their faces and actions and watch them grown and become great men.

He looked at me confused and proceeded to say that being a parent looks easy because we get to do what we want – “stay up all night and party” (his words, not mine), eat and drink whatever we want and tell him and his brother what to do – and all they can do is obey or suffer the consequences. Well, that incited a chuckle from me and again, I had to carefully choose my words.

I explained to my son that parenthood is about more than staying up late and rattling off rules because we can. And, by no means is parenthood a daily party where his father and I stay up until the wee hours watching cartoons and eating snacks as it seems he suspects jealously.

The more I tried to explain what it is we parents do and why it’s so difficult, the more I seemed to confuse my poor child and eventually myself – almost. I mean, I know what I intended to say because I know what my intentions are as his mother. I know that I wanted my son and, to a certain extent, I planned his conception. I knew his name and I felt him and his importance as he grew inside me, I prayed about his purpose and I pictured his little face. I wanted to be the best mother  I could be without knowing what exactly that meant. It is a definition I am still revising daily and something I strive and aspire to moment to moment.

As our conversation ended, he asked me, “Mommy, why does it look like you have tears in your eyes?” And I just told him that I hoped that someday he could understand everything we’ve done over the years as his parents and I hope he knows how much he is wanted and loved. I told him that when we give him and his brother rules about what to eat and when to go to bed, it’s not because we don’t want them to have fun or hang out with us – it’s because they need to behave like children and eat what’s healthy and get enough rest to play and grow. And I hugged my beautiful boy and looked him in his face and told him in terms that were probably easiest for him to understand:

“We pay the cost to be the boss … and although it may look like we’re having a lot of fun, it’s a lot of work, so you enjoy being a kid for as long as you can.”

Fear of a(n Evil) Stepfather

by Carolyn Edgar

My teenage daughter often stops by my office for brief visits. During one of her recent visits, I found myself telling her about one of the couples I follow on Twitter, who are planning their wedding. 

“Ugh, I guess, whatever,” she said, or words to that effect. “I mean, I just don’t see the point in getting married.” 

This isn’t the first time she’s expressed those feelings. I understand why. During the time her father and I were together, we didn’t exactly model marital bliss. What she said next, though, shocked me. 

“I hope you and ____________ [my current boyfriend] never get married.” 

My kids get along great with my boyfriend. He likes them, and they like him. He does “guy stuff” with my son, like wrestling and playing basketball, that I can’t do or have no interest in doing. My boyfriend talks to my son about all those “guy” things my son no longer wants to share with Mom (although my son uses me as a sounding board for the advice he has gotten from my boyfriend). My daughter says he’s “cool,” and he gets extra cool points for treating me well. 

But I have only been seeing my current boyfriend for less than a year. We’ve talked about marriage – as a concept, as an institution – plenty of times, but we’ve never discussed the idea of getting married to each other. So the fact that my daughter brought up the subject of us getting married seems a little odd to me. I guess it’s the influence of movies – in the movies, two people who get along and care for each other in a romantic relationship, are by definition head over heels in love and destined for the altar. 

My daughter’s comments were even more pointed than, “I hope you don’t get married.” When I asked why she hoped ___________ and I never get married, she said,

“I don’t want a stepfather.” 

The kids are 100% in agreement on this “no stepfather” thing. A few months earlier, my son told my boyfriend that his Mom didn’t need another husband. “It didn’t work out so well the first time,” my son said. 

My boyfriend and I concluded “don’t marry my Mom” was my son’s way of warning, “Don’t hurt my Mom.”  Later, I asked, and my son confirmed “don’t hurt my Mom” was what he meant. Judging from my daughter’s remarks on the subject, it sounds like she and her brother have talked and agreed that one father – even if they don’t see him very much – is enough.

In the abstract, it’s easy to understand why a stepfather would be undesirable. In literature and movies, and especially on TV news, stepfathers are violent, cruel, and abusive. The evil stepfather is almost as common a trope as the wicked stepmother.

But it is still hard for me to comprehend why the thought of my marrying this particular man – someone who is not violent, not cruel, not abusive – is so scary to them. 

“It would change things,” my daughter said. “My attitude towards him would change.”

I could see from her facial expression that the very idea of it was upsetting her. There was no point in continuing the conversation, especially since it’s not even a possibility at this point.

“No need to worry about that, since it’s not something we’re considering,” I told her. “If we ever need to, we’ll talk about it again.”

 “Ugh,” was all she said in response, making sure she got the last word – or noise – in.

Original to CocoaMamas

Getting Schooled … Private versus Public

Written by CocoaMamas contributor Tracy B.

My oldest son is getting ready to go back to school. He will be starting fourth grade at a public school near our home and the anxiety and anger that I feel are difficult to articulate.

I grew up fortunate enough to be able to attend private schools up until high school, when I decided I wanted to go to public school. Where I came from, the public school system had a reputation for brokenness and in my neighborhood, especially, the public schools were frightening. Because my single mother was able to send my older brother and me to private schools, I decided that I, too, would make this a priority in raising my children. I saw the difference first-hand and I wanted to give my children the best opportunities possible.   

When my husband and I started our family, I made it clear that I wanted our children to receive a private school education. At the same time, we took up residence in suburban areas of Georgia where the public schools performed well. Since my oldest began school in pre-kindergarten, he attended a Christian school that we loved and he thrived. And while paying for it has at times been a bit of a struggle, the compliments we received about his above-average intelligence and the results we saw made the struggle worth it.

But, to be perfectly honest, it seemed that the struggle began to be mine alone and my husband no longer shared in the vision I thought we were collectively working toward. Having grown up in public schools, or maybe because he felt that the schools in our area are just as good as the school we were paying for, there was not the fervor to continue to make the sacrifices so that our son could stay in a school he’d grown in. And so, at the end of the last school year, I was faced with the task of telling my child that he would be going to a new school, would have to make new friends and things would be changing for all of us. My sensitive boy fell into tears and I held him as he told me through sobs that he did not want to go to a new school and did not want to have to try to make new friends. I reassured him the best way I could, uncertain that what I told him was right – hoping that this would be a decision that would work out for the best.

As a loving parent, I want to shield my boys from everything in the world that may cause them even an inkling of discomfort. If it were up to me, I’d home-school them and supervise every minute of their life for the promise that they’d just live long enough to become men. But that’s unrealistic. And yes, I do know how valuable it is for children to be exposed to different experiences and environments.

Living in suburban (or closer to rural) Georgia and entrusting someone to teach my children without inserting their racial bias or other ideas into the lesson plan is a definite concern. Only time will tell what the transition will mean, but I am hoping I will be pleasantly surprised. I hope my son attends school close to home and is relieved when he finally makes friends that live close to our home that he can play with. I hope that his advanced abilities will translate well and be nurtured so that he continues to thrive academically at his new school. I hope. I pray. I worry.

At the end of the day, I’ll put it in God’s hands and trust that it is all as it should be. Deep down I know he’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. After all, I know that I won’t accept anything less.

Why We All Can’t Just Get Along

I’m comfortable with who I am and what I believe in. I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer for the same naive reasons I guess a lot of kids say they want to be lawyers: I truly believe in justice and fairness. As someone yesterday said to me, “Right is right.” I’ve never heard more true words.

I used to wonder why justice was so important to me. Why the littlest amount of unfairness touched me in a place so deep. So there was a time in my life where I routinely took personality tests.  I was obsessed with knowing about myself, trying to understand what made me tick. My favorite test is the MBTI, which splits people into 16 personality types based on combinations of pairs of four dyads: Introverted or Extroverted; Sensing or iNtuitive; Thinking or Feeling; and Judging or Perceiving. My type has changed slightly over the years, and I’m an almost even split between both Introverted/Extroverted and Perceiving/Judging. But as I’ve gotten older, I think I gravate more toward a particular “type.”

I am an ENFP: The Champion.

As a Champion, I’m an easy person to get along with. I smile, I laugh, I joke. I’m charming, in my most humble opinion. I make friends easily too, everywhere I go. But there are some things that I believe in, and when you mess with me and those things, when you mess with one of my values, then…well, all bets are off.

And so my life is one of a strong dichotomy. I’ve been accused of being too serious. I’ve been told to lighten up, take a chill pill, relax, calm down, and breathe. I’ve been told to choose my battles, that nothing in life is that serious, and that I just get too worked up. I’ve been told that I am intimidating, aggressive, overbearing, argumentative, contrary and loud-mouthed.

For telling my truth. For saying what I believe to be right.

I’m working this summer for a large urban school district that ranks at the almost bottom for educational equity. The opportunity and achievement gaps in this district are shameful. So when I go to work every day, and when I interact with my fellow interns who are working at other educational institutions this summer, I’m not always smiling. I’m not agreeing to so-called “community agreements” on how I’m supposed to talk about race, class, and power. I’m not giving everyone the benefit of the doubt that folks have good intentions. I’m not assuming that no one in the room is a racist.

I’m thinking about what needs to be said and done right here, right now, to get it across to these people that a crime is being committed again children – who look like my kids – every single day in the school that’s right down the block.

I’m thinking about what needs to be said right here, right now, to get these folks to stop experimenting on our kids and just teach them to read, write, and count. I’m thinking about wanting them to stop hiding the real issues of racism and classism and white privilege behind hollow conversations of “results-based-budgeting” that have no student results actually driving it.

That’s what I’m doing.

We can’t all just get along because getting along often means being silent. Getting along means being a bystander. Getting along means, if you want to keep it real, making white folks feel comfortable. Well, I’m not here to make you comfortable. I’m not here to make you feel good that you’ve chosen to work in education. I’m not here to sing fucking kumbaya. For me, while I’ve always had a passion for justice, now it’s personal.

See, my baby …

 

… my beautiful black boy. . .

is starting kindergarten in the fall. And I’m scared as hell.

Look, I don’t need friends, I need foot soldiers. I don’t care if you like me or not. I just want you to be as mad as I am that children like him are undervalued because of the color of their skin.

So I need you to be ready to  work for change. I’ll be right there with you. If I have to piss you off to move you toward action, then so be it.

Let’s get it started.

 

 

Don’t Talk To Strangers

Written by CocoaMamas contributor Tracy B.

I have two beautiful Black sons. And, yes, I am biased – but they are also truly beautiful. Like most parents, I love when they receive compliments, and like most parents, I teach them never to talk to strangers. But, because they are handsome – their curly black hair and smooth, deep cocoa skin seems to attract attention wherever we go. I try to take it all in stride; after all, I don’t want my boys to grow accustomed to special treatment. I don’t want them to begin to believe that they are special just because some people think they are attractive. In fact, as much as I lavish attention on them and do my best to help them know that mommy thinks they are the most beautiful and special sons any mother has ever birthed, I’m not all that moved by strangers’ curious commentary – just the opposite, actually.

For instance, there was the time when my husband, sons and my younger brother and I were out having dinner at a neighborhood restaurant and the young ladies in the establishment kept coming to our table to comment on how beautiful my youngest son is. The first couple of times, it was flattering, but when a crowd gathered in the kitchen and a small group formed at our table, it was a little much. By the time we were ready to leave, one of the young ladies mustered up the nerve to ask if she could give him a lollipop and pick him up. My husband, who thinks this attention is cute, obliged before I could object. No harm done until another girl took out her camera phone to take a picture of the other girl holding my baby. Needless to say, dinner was over and we have not been back to that restaurant since.

And just yesterday, while shopping at a home furnishings store, the older woman associate comes to greet us and begins to tell me how handsome my two sons are. I thank her and continue on my way as she kneels down and beckons my youngest to hug her. I stood in shock as he hugged this stranger and listened as she asked him, ‘would you like to come home with me?’ When my child nodded ‘yes,’ I was overcome by so many emotions I could barely contain myself.

I wondered – ‘why does ANYONE think it’s appropriate to walk up to someone else’s child and hold them? WHY would anyone ask a child if he wants to go with them and WHY did my child have to say yes?’ Truly, the woman was harmless, and to her, she was just a lady who loves children. She simply saw two beautiful children and did what she probably always does. And that’s all right – except … it’s really not.

It is one thing to compliment someone and tell them they have a beautiful baby, or whatever other form of flattery a stranger wishes to verbalize during a casual encounter. It is another situation entirely when a complete stranger walks up and caresses another person’s child and asks if that child wants to go home with them.

I know what you’re thinking – you’ve heard this same phrase uttered a million times. Maybe you, too, have watched as your child betrayed you by telling some stranger they want to go with them. And you probably think that I am over-analyzing this harmless situation. And, you might be right if millions of children weren’t lured away from their parents by some seemingly nice stranger who wished them harm, instead of good. Because there is no way to distinguish between good strangers and bad, we teach our children to be safe and not talk to ANY strangers because there’s no way to be sure who’s a good guy and who is not so much.

It is for this reason that I would prefer that strangers, look, but not touch. Thanks a bunch for the compliments, but please, keep it moving. It is quite confusing for a two year-old to understand why mommy is so upset about the hug he just gave to the nice lady. Of course he’d never want to go home with that lady, and the family inside joke about how she’d bring him right back is completely true. But, it’s still inappropriate. Because it goes against what I am teaching him when I tell him not to talk to strangers. Already, his young mind has to try and reconcile our lesson to be polite, which means he should speak when spoken to, yet not to strangers??? It’s no wonder our children are confused. But strangers could make these little life lessons so much easier by just maintaining safe, sensible boundaries.

I’m so proud to have two little ones that are easy on the eyes. Prouder still that they are smart and well-mannered, too.  Sometimes, some may say that I am a little over-protective of my boys and they are probably right. But, it’s a strange world out there, and it’s my job as their mother to protect them when I can – even if that means shielding them from seemingly innocent special attention.

Tracy B. is best known as an expert communicator and brand development professional. With extensive experience as a journalist for prestigious national publications, Tracy honed her skills and natural talent for recognizing newsworthy subject matter, topics and personalities in positions ranging from General Assignment Reporter to Managing Editor of daily newspapers as well as monthly magazines. A mother, wordsmith, world traveler and woman of many talents, Tracy B. is gifted while yet demonstrating her truest desire to leave a positive mark on the planet. Using powerful and transformational words as vehicles of communication, bridging divides and authoring an American fairytale one day at a time, Tracy intends to change the world, endeavoring to, in her own way, make each day more meaningful than the last.

on baldy-heads and aliens

“Did Big A get a haircut?”

I look over at my precious boy, fresh from the barbershop. His experience with getting a haircut so different at five than it was at three, when her would scream the entire time. Once, there was an entire patch of hair, the size of a quarter that just wasn’t cut cause the barber couldn’t take it anymore! But now, he loves getting his hair cut. It tickles around the ears, he tells me, but getting a haircut is no big deal. And getting to go to McDonald’s afterwards…well, that makes up for any unpleasantness.

So when a preschool “friend,” and I use the term begrudgingly, asked me this afternoon whether Big A had gotten a haircut yesterday, I happily said, “Why yes he did! And doesn’t it look lovely?” Because, of course, I think it does. I love the way the close cut makes little black boys look all grown up by allowing you to focus on their faces. I love how I can really stare into my angel’s eyes, with his long eyelashes and deep brown irises that really seem to look into his gentle soul.

But apparently, I’m alone in this appraisal. For this little girl said, “No. He has no hair. He looks like an alien.”

I was shocked. Taken aback. Then outraged. Angry.

For it dawned on me that this was not the first time some child had said something disparaging about Big A and his haircuts. I remembered him telling me how the kids at the other school called him “baldy-head” whenever he got a haircut, and how they were not saying it in a nice way. I remember him telling me that it hurt his feelings when they said that. I remember him telling me that he was never going to get a haircut again.

As I thought about this, I looked around the playground. As much as we lament what little black girls go through with regards to their hair, I never thought about the fact that little black boys face their own hair issue when surrounded by boys who are not black like them. As the only black boy on the playground, Big A was also the boy who has the least amount of hair. In relation to all the other children, even the boys, he WAS bald. All of the other little boys had a significant amount of hair on their heads – hair that flopped in bangs on their forehead, around their ears, on the nape of their necks. Some boys had more closely cropped hair, but enough to run a little gel in it and make it stand up or lay down. Certainly not bald. And, as we all know, kids DO have funny-shaped heads. When all the hair is removed, things can look a bit…well…strange.

Of course, though, to me, I didn’t see it the way this little girl did. All my life I’ve seen black men get haircuts, from high top fades to taking it all off. It’s normal to me to see men and boys with hair of all different lengths, from locs like my father’s to the floppiness of these little boys to the boxes that were popular in the 90s to Big A’s curly Qs when he was a baby to the close cut he gets today. I’ve seen it all, so none of it shocks me.

But these kids, raised in elite suburbia, have not. They don’t live around people who are different than them who do other things with their hair. So a little black boy with a close cut is a novelty to them. And when something is strange, they ridicule and “otherize” it.

Even when it is as beautiful as this.

Trials and Tribulations

It ain’t easy being the parent without primary housing responsibilities. I won’t use terms like “custody” or “custodial” because we have not settled all of that officially.

But, it has its issues. One issue is finances. We argue over finances, tax claims, purchasing responsibilities, etc. We make agreements, one person renegs, and things fall apart. We were doing well before, but I think changes happened because of decisions I have made in my personal life that he does not agree with. He seems to be taking a more adversarial approach with me.

Another issue is time. When your child isn’t with you daily, it becomes easier to disconnect from parental obligations. When you only see your child on weekends, it is often like the child is temporarily stepping into your life, so you don’t make a lot of changes. I realized that in my new house, nothing indicates that I have a child. There are no toys scattered, no child’s bed, no pictures even save one magnet on my fridge. It isn’t a kid-friendly home by any means.

A final issue is missed opportunities. I miss everything. Part of it is because his father fails to inform me of when things happen. He claims he doesn’t want to interfere or intrude in my life. What? This is my son we’re talking about. How is telling me about a school event or development intrusion? It’s like he shuts me out intentionally. I resent that. And recognize that it makes me feel even more disconnected than I felt when he was around all of the time.

I realized things were becoming a grave issue when 4 days passed and I hadn’t spoken to him once. I’d asked his father to get him into the habit of calling me and not relying on me to call him. This isnt to say I have a problem with calling him, but I want him to begin to get used to the idea that whenever he wants to talk to me, he can pick up the phone and call me. His father agreed. I asked him this over a month ago and he has only called me twice. I got so caught up in my day-to-day life that days passed without me speaking to him and I hadn’t even really been impacted by it. I’d called a few times but either his father didn’t answer or he was in the bath or he was asleep.

I’m not feeling this at all.

He tells me that he has every intention of keeping him at least through the 4th grade. 5 more years of this? I don’t know man… what will it do to our relationship? And why do I feel more and more comfortable with that  idea?

I don’t know if that makes me a bad parent or just indicates that maybe I recognize what is best for my son in the long run.

In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for text-messaged pictures of what he is doing.

I had to ask if that was me, or daddy’s new girlfriend…

And So It Begins…

 

 

Garvey's 1st Day on Earth

 I knew from the moment we decided upon his name, Garvey, he was going to be someone special. Of course, every parent feels this way about his/her child(ren). But, something in my soul knew he was meant to be. We didn’t plan him, he just kinda made his way to us. We fought a lot, but he brought us together. In the saddest moments I’ve had recently, his smile, semi-funny-but-not-really-funny jokes made me laugh, his dancing has kept me entertained… he’s been my rock. He is going to go far in life… His life has purpose!

Natural-Born Revolutionary

And now, he is going to school.  I discussed here the struggles we were having finding somewhere for him to go to school. On Friday, we finally found out where he is going to school and it happens to be one of the better schools in NYC. It’s conveniently located a few blocks from his father’s job, and my research tells me this is exactly where I want my son to begin his educational path to greatness. I’m quite pleased. He will live with his father during the week and stay with me on weekends. We worked this out in his best interest and I anticipate his success with this arrangement.

And so we’re opening the next chapter: School.

If I cry one more time…

New school clothes: Check
Fresh haircut: Check
Thomas and Friends Bookbag: Check
The Ability to Wipe Himself After #2: Check

Lately, I’ve just been watching him, this firey ball of energy who loves hugs, kisses, trains, and Michael Jackson. This beautiful prince whose future is so bright, this man-child I made. I’m just in awe of him sometimes… I get caught up in loving him so much, it can be overwhelming.

I’m ready. I’m ready to let my baby go out into the outer world we call school. I’m ready for him to make new friends, have new experiences, and be in the care of someone responsible for a bulk of his education. I’m ready for the cuts and bruises. I’m ready for pictures of turkeys made of his handprint. I’m ready for his first written sentence. I’m ready for him to say, “Mommy, don’t kiss me in front of my friends!” I’m ready for everything that comes with taking this next major step…

…I think.

*sniff*

I'm A Star

Yes, Baby… you are

Raising A Boy To Become A Man

I’ve been a mother for about 3 1/2 years now, but before I even conceived, I’ve engaged in the conversation about whether or not women can teach their sons how to be men. On the surface, the answers may seem really simple: Yes, of course or No, of course not. Having engaged in this debate and heard many sides, I wanted to perhaps begin a discussion here on Cocoa Mamas about this idea.

This debate usually comes about when discussing single motherhood. The statistics state that 3.1 million Black mothers are single (unmarried or divorced) which means that at least 3.1 million Black children are being raised without a father figure in their home. This is not to say there is no paternal presence at all, it just is not in the home. In all fairness, that 3.1 million figure does not break down whether or not these women share custody equally, are simply unmarried/divorced (meaning they could have a significant other, male or female), or if they are even custodial parents. If you’ve read my blogs, you know that I’m not the primary custodian of my son, but I do consider myself a single mother.  For argument’s sake, let us assume they mean 3.1 million Black women are raising children on their own, as primary custodians.

So if we assume about 40-50% of those homes contain male children, we’re dealing with about 1.5 million women who have to figure out the best ways to raise their sons  to be intelligent, sensitive, caring, respectful, hardworking, strong Black men.  These will be men who will venture out into the world bearing with them the perspective and world views instilled in them by their mothers. Roughly 80% will carry these views into their interactions with women.  These mothers have to take into account all of the demands society places on men in general, as well as all of the negative statistics about Black men and the lowered expectations by that same society, and try to do their best to produce the most well-rounded, adjusted, positive men possible. 

As one might expect, this is a daunting task. 

Obstacle #1: Women are NOT men. We are physiologically, mentally, and emotionally different. Some things are purely biologically based while others are due to socialization. This creates a disconnect.

Can women overcome this in some ways? Yes, absolutely. We can teach our boys how to pee standing up. Can we relate to the external sensation of having to pee? No.  Can we talk to our sons about wet dreams? Yes. We can even explain how semen is formed, how is travels, and how it shoots out. Can we relate to the embarassment of spontaneous erections 15 times a day? No. The question is then: Are we inevitably disconnected from fully engaging in intimate discussions with our sons about things we have never experienced and cannot relate to? What say you?

Obstacle #2: Boys learn differently than girls. Women tend to teach their children things the way they process them themselves, which does boys a disservice.  Their brains are wired differently and if we cannot teach them along those lines, we risk alienating them.

Most of us do not realize this and we get frustrated when it seems our sons are knuckleheads when they begin to drift off in school. Or we are bothered when our toddler and pre-school sons are running on 150 tons of energy and seem to absorb more of what we say when they are in that state than when they are sitting still quietly, as we have asked them to do 1473 times in an hour. We want them to process what we are teaching as far as manners, respect, and social behavioral norms, but we are teaching them the way we see it and the way we learned it, which is not registering the same with them.  Does this mean there will inevitably be a disconnected between what we teach and what they learn from us? What say you?

Obstacle #3: Women cannot effectively lead by example. Boys and girls generally model their behavior after their parents and those closest to them.  A woman cannot role model being a man.

This is probably the biggest issue that comes up and pretty much encompasses the majority of the debates/discussions. We assume, of course, that there are set codes and standards of masculinity and manhood. (I reject that because I reject heteronormative thinking ,but that’s another blog). We assume that women cannot emulate those standards and therefor, they cannot effectively set the appropriate example of masculinity and manhood. (Again, this does not allow for varying gender identities that female-sexed individuals self-identify with).

Can a woman teach her son how to play basketball? Yes. Can she teach him how to change the oil in the car? Yes. Can she teach him to say “Please” and “Thank you” when interacting with others? Of course.  What she cannot do, as a single mother, is model how a man should treat a woman.  She can speak, write, teach, tell him on the telephone until she is blue in the face, but if that boy does not bear witness to his mother being treated in a positive way by an authoritative male figure, I posit that there IS a disconnect in his understanding of how to treat women (even with his own father or another father figure present).  That’s jsut one idea. What say you?

I did not dig as deep as I could have on this subject because I would love for people to weigh in and offer their own sides to the debate. I know where I stand and will respond in time.

Discussion questions:

Can women, single mothers specifically, effectively raise their sons to be “men”?

Does society’s notions of masculinity and manhood play a role in how women should be raising their sons?

If you are raising a son, what are you doing to ensure he is being raised with a strong sense of his masculinity (however you might define that for your family)?

Why do you think some women are successful at single-parenting sons and others are not as successful? What other factors do you think contribute to their successes or failures?


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