By: Lauren J. Carter
Updated: Dec. 18, 2015
Originally Published: Aug. 13, 2015
As I watched my 8-year-old daughter, Lily, toss a football with her dad, a stranger passing by commented on her impressive skills. It was unclear whether he was surprised because she was a girl, but the implication was definitely there. After this unexpected compliment, I heard my husband respond, “Yeah, she’s got three older brothers.”
In that moment, I flinched. The suggestion that Lily’s talent was noteworthy simply because she’s a girl, followed by the notion that her brothers somehow contributed to her skills, struck a nerve I didn’t know was so sensitive.
Growing up, I experienced a different set of expectations than my brother did. As a teenager, I was often offered warnings that my brothers didn’t receive. As a young woman, I faced the reality of earning less than my male peers, navigating catcalls on my daily commute, and hearing my parents express concerns for my safety in ways they didn’t for my brother. While I accepted these inequalities as part of life, I often felt frustrated that compliments about my looks far outweighed any recognition for my achievements.
Yet, I never felt compelled to act against the injustices in gender equality. I wasn’t Gloria Steinem, and I didn’t see it as a personal mission. Then, I became a mother to a daughter.
I recognize that I will likely be more protective of Lily than I am of my son, Jake. I will caution her more frequently about potential dangers, even though some risks are the same for both kids. I’m aware of this bias, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I will empower Lily to pursue her passions in arts, business, science, sports, and beyond. I’ll teach her to demand equal treatment and to confidently respond to backhanded compliments with a simple “thank you” or “I’ve been practicing.”
I’m not oblivious to the fact that being around brothers can help a sister develop her skills, just as it can for any younger sibling. But let’s be clear: not all boys are into sports, and not all girls play with dolls. One cannot claim ownership of another’s abilities or achievements, and I doubt fathers of young boys often feel the need to qualify their son’s skills.
Lily’s ability to throw and catch a football stems from her practice and determination, not the presence of her brothers. She doesn’t need anyone’s validation.
I tend to shy away from heavy labels, but if teaching Lily these important lessons makes me a feminist, I’m more than okay with that.
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In summary, watching my daughter grow has opened my eyes to the importance of gender equality and the need to empower her to embrace her capabilities without any qualifiers. I am committed to raising her in a way that encourages confidence, strength, and self-worth.