Accountability
There are lots of conversations happening right now about consent. These are important conversations. And I am so happy that people are including young children in them. I can't articulate how vital it is for a child to feel like they have a right to their own body, to know that their bodies are good and sacrosanct, and to learn and practice agency. With any luck, my kids will be far more prepared than I was.
I like the consent talks, but I've been thinking a lot about apologies and making amends. This seems like a critical component of this national discussion of sexual culture. We teach consent because we cannot stomach the idea that maybe our boy would force himself on someone. We focus on prevention. But what if he did force himself on someone? Would he recognize his trespass? Would he know what to do about it? It's painfully obvious that some people never learned this lesson.
I apologize readily to my children. I do not put myself on a pedestal. I make it clear that it's okay to make mistakes. But I do rather emphatically insist that they acknowledge the effect of their transgressions on other people. If their tone or demeanor dismisses another person, I ask if they meant to communicate disregard for that person. Because all our choices and actions make statements. What are you saying by not responding or interrupting or using a rude voice? I want to make it clear to them that we all exist in relation to other people all the time. And we are responsible for these relationships. And their intentions do not override the hurt they may inadvertently cause. Our duty as decent people is to recognize our own capacity for mistakes, acknowledge when we let someone down, and seek to make amends. As you can imagine since they are 6 and 2 years old and I am not really that mature, we have a lot of practice doing this.
It's been suggested to me that I might hold myself to higher standards than the average person, and by extension, maybe I'm too hard on my boys. But we live in a world of mediocrity that privileges a select few and oppresses countless others. Why would I want to perpetuate that for my children? How exactly is complicity the loving choice? It's so abundantly evident that we are in need of people with strong moral fibers. How else would they attain this strength except through this painstaking accounting of our missteps and repairing of our unconditional love? Every apology builds that compassion muscle, that moral courage muscle. I intend for my children to be strong.
I like the consent talks, but I've been thinking a lot about apologies and making amends. This seems like a critical component of this national discussion of sexual culture. We teach consent because we cannot stomach the idea that maybe our boy would force himself on someone. We focus on prevention. But what if he did force himself on someone? Would he recognize his trespass? Would he know what to do about it? It's painfully obvious that some people never learned this lesson.
I apologize readily to my children. I do not put myself on a pedestal. I make it clear that it's okay to make mistakes. But I do rather emphatically insist that they acknowledge the effect of their transgressions on other people. If their tone or demeanor dismisses another person, I ask if they meant to communicate disregard for that person. Because all our choices and actions make statements. What are you saying by not responding or interrupting or using a rude voice? I want to make it clear to them that we all exist in relation to other people all the time. And we are responsible for these relationships. And their intentions do not override the hurt they may inadvertently cause. Our duty as decent people is to recognize our own capacity for mistakes, acknowledge when we let someone down, and seek to make amends. As you can imagine since they are 6 and 2 years old and I am not really that mature, we have a lot of practice doing this.
It's been suggested to me that I might hold myself to higher standards than the average person, and by extension, maybe I'm too hard on my boys. But we live in a world of mediocrity that privileges a select few and oppresses countless others. Why would I want to perpetuate that for my children? How exactly is complicity the loving choice? It's so abundantly evident that we are in need of people with strong moral fibers. How else would they attain this strength except through this painstaking accounting of our missteps and repairing of our unconditional love? Every apology builds that compassion muscle, that moral courage muscle. I intend for my children to be strong.
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