Mother May I

article by Meredith McKinnie

Growing up as a young woman in the south means learning to be polite, to respect authority, to follow the rules as established, to be brave within the confines of tradition. At least these are the guidelines imparted on me years ago. Judging by the behavior of my peers, many shared these sentiments and experiences, often communicated directly to us, or modeled by female superiors. By the diversity of my current friend groups, some a decade ahead or behind me, I notice significant variations in our expectations, willingness to step outside invisible boundaries, and challenge the status quo of southern womanhood. I’m a rule follower, and admittedly, rules make me feel comfortable. I know the limitations and pride myself on excelling within the confines of what’s expected of me. This devotion to norms has garnered me the respect of women of all generations. I’m comfortable speaking up, but pay attention to tone and situation, and often bite my tongue to avoid confrontation or disrupting the unestablished yet understood order of things.

I’m unsure if my awareness of my discomfort came about due to my approaching forty or now being the mother of two small girls. I often must remind myself that I am the adult, that what I say goes with these little people, that the final decision rests with me. Before, I would often seek out the opinions of others, to determine what is the “right” thing to do and found myself bending to the consensus even when it felt wrong. Yes, this may be the way it’s always been done, but won’t that get us the same result we all admit we don’t like? Why not try something different, listen to my gut, and sometimes shirk the opinions of others. Experience has its place, and the wisdom gained from those who’ve walked the path before us is incredibly valuable. But I also believe in variation, using the brain God gave me to form my own conclusions, hopefully with the input of others to come to a more educated decision. I can listen without necessarily mimicking every action or pleasing every person.

I catch myself repeating phrases to my children that were iterated to me as a child. And often I shudder. Why did I just say that? I don’t mean it, I don’t believe it, and God help my daughters if they internalize that way of thinking. Words can be so impactful, and yet they slip off our tongues so routinely. I call this article Mother May I not to indicate my mother in this awakening, but rather to point to the root of politeness, the overwhelming expectation of females. We should smile, admit when we’re wrong, be nurturers, foster good behavior, be selfless. What if I don’t feel like smiling or the situation warrants a frown to convey my displeasure? Wouldn’t an honest countenance be more polite? Yes, I should admit when I’m wrong, but not because someone else thinks I should, but only when I believe it to be so. I can be a nurturer and exhibit strength. Caring for others does not require a subversion of self. I am no beacon of virtue or exhibitor of awakened actions, quite the opposite. Frequently what I want to do clashes with what I know I should. But what I am trying to show my girls is the complexity of emotions and behavior. What I feel is genuine, and communicating it effectively is not only polite and honest, but necessary to warrant a different result in the future.

My three-year-old throws mini-fits. I call them mini because they are dramatic, laughable coming from her small frame, and quickly absolved. She yells because she’s angry, and she’s trying to get my attention. Instead of chastising her anger, I am focusing on acknowledging the lack of attention. She doesn’t feel heard, and she feels the need to yell at me to be heard. Rather than yelling back, perhaps I can focus on giving her the attention she craves. When I lower my register, hers quickly comes down. When I speak softly, she mimics my tone. I want to raise girls who are strong and use their voices, but I don’t want to raise self-involved, rude individuals. I feel like I’m just learning how to communicate effectively myself while simultaneously providing a roadmap for my girls. It’s a lot.

I want them to learn respect, but I also want them to demand respect for themselves. I want them to speak up but listen too. I want them to not feel the need to yell to be heard. I want them to learn how to delve into their emotions, see them for what they are, and react accordingly. And it’s not necessarily up to me to determine their rightful responses. They’re individuals, tiny ones, but unique souls who will make their own decisions one day. I’m experimenting with giving them as much decision-making power as age-appropriate to hopefully help them grow accustomed to listening to their gut. Perhaps the more they practice, the easier it will become. The most important role for me is to model honesty, showing the complex facets of life for what they are, and teaching them to trust themselves and what they know to be true. In the future, I’m certain my girls will come to me for advice, but if I show them the power within themselves, maybe they won’t even need it.