It’s a hard truth to face. I often find myself saying, “If someone is bothering you, just kindly ask them to stop.” Ugh! Saying that makes me cringe. I feel ashamed for teaching my daughters to handle difficult situations with such passivity—like polite debutantes dealing with rude behavior. It’s frustrating, and in a way, I’m perpetuating my own fears onto them.
I realize I’m raising my daughters to be timid. I should be more honest—I’m raising them to be gutless, just like me. There, I said it. I often project confidence, acting like the fierce mom who can tackle anything. But in reality, I’m wearing a facade of courage, while my voice trembles when facing real confrontation.
With my weak advice, I’m encouraging my daughters to be reserved. They’re likely to encounter situations where they need to stand up for themselves, and I worry that my teachings will leave them unprepared. Picture this: one of my daughters is being pushed down a slide by another child. She feels scared and, because I’ve taught her to be polite, she turns around and says sweetly, “I’d like you to please stop.” Meanwhile, the other child could care less and gives her another shove. What happens then? She falls and gets hurt. Great job, mom.
The truth is, I’ve been conditioned to prioritize politeness, even when it means compromising my own safety or self-respect. I often find myself being polite in the face of blatant unfairness or even danger. The reality is that I fear the consequences of speaking up—fear of losing my job, friendships, or being labeled as the “difficult woman.”
I want my daughters to be assertive, to refuse to accept mistreatment, whether at home or in the workplace. I wish for them to feel empowered enough to speak out against harassment, just like Anita Hill and so many other women who have faced injustice. I’ve been a victim in my own life, and it pains me to think I’m passing on that legacy of fear.
I remember a time in college when a man charmed me into helping him move. It seemed innocent until things escalated quickly, and I found myself fleeing his apartment, terrified. Instead of calling for help, I curled up on the floor, praying for safety. That moment is just one of many where I didn’t stand up for myself.
After college, I faced harassment in the workplace, from inappropriate comments about my appearance to outright discrimination from bosses. I should have reported these behaviors, but the fear of repercussions kept me silent. I want my daughters to live in a world where they can speak out against such injustices without fear.
Now, in the age of social media, the harassment has shifted online. I’ve faced personal attacks disguised as “feedback” on my writing. These comments often cross the line from critique to outright cruelty. Why do I still respond politely? I need to change this for the sake of my daughters. I want them to know how to block negative influences and stand up for themselves.
I’m admitting my shortcomings in hopes of changing my approach. It’s time to replace my timid words with empowering messages. I want to model assertiveness so that my daughters grow into strong, confident women who won’t tolerate disrespect or discrimination.
In my journey towards raising empowered daughters, I’ve realized that I need to be the example they can look up to. Together, we can break the cycle of fear and create a future where they stand tall and proud.
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In summary, I’m on a journey to transform my parenting approach, empowering my daughters to be assertive and confident. It’s essential for them to grow up in a world where they can advocate for themselves and not shy away from confrontation.