On Being a Girl Mom

My daughter is strong and brave. She will try anything once — dirt, rocks, water from a hose, dog food.  She climbs past the big kids to slide down the slide herself at the park. Slipping, splashing around in a puddle in our driveway, and she laughs. She points at a big dog at the park, running towards it, letting it lick her face before I can finish asking if it’s okay if she pets the dog — luckily it was friendly.

He’s so cute, people say if I put her in gender neutral clothing, such a handsome little boy. She has big feelings and that’s okay; if she was a he it would still be okay, we sit with the feelings and we accept them.

Her energy is endless, she prefers to walk around while she eats, colors, and plays her toy instruments.  This surprises people, ‘She’s so active!’ they say.

People comment on her body, ‘She’s so tall and thin,’ they gush, ‘She’s so tiny.’

We’ve had to work on blowing kisses from afar instead of kissing other babies without permission. We let her know it’s okay to say no if she doesn’t want a hug or kiss, she says no to everything these days.  She says ‘Hi!’ enthusiastically to everyone and waves her hand. ‘She’s such a social baby,’ people say surprised.

At 15 months, I worry for her. I worry about the boxes she may be placed in and those people already place her in. In a search for pajamas, those for the girl side had sayings such as “Daddy’s Dream Girl” while the boys said “Reach for the Stars” and “Dinosaur Explorer.”  I bought her the space and dinosaur pajamas because she doesn’t need to be placed in a box.

She loves me a whole lot. I don’t say this to be conceited, I see it every day. I see it when she sneaks up behind me and kisses me on my back or when she constantly wants me to hold her. When she’s mad at me for telling her no but still wants me, the mean mommy, to console her. I especially see how she watches everything I do. She watches and she imitates. Seeing me suck in my stomach in the mirror.  She watches me and brushes her own hair. She pretends to powder her face.

I watch her kiss her own reflection when she sees herself — in the mirror, in windows, in our shiny piano. When I see her do this, I wish for her to always kiss her own reflection, to always look at herself with such awe. I am learning to kiss my own reflection once again because she needs to see me do this.

There’s regret that I pretended I was bad at math to impress a boy and now I am, I will still help her with her homework when she is older. I am learning to walk tall though I cried inside when a man a Target said, ‘Dang your mom is hot.’  One day she will hear things like this and I will explain to her that these things are not okay — they cut us down.

For now, I will walk tall for her.

One day I will tell her I wish I said something when I was gracefully let go from my job following my unpaid maternity leave, for now I will be the best mom I can. I will tell her that I wish I’d said “no” louder but I know he heard me and it wasn’t okay, for now I can teach her consent. One day I will tell her it’s not okay for people to comment on our bodies, that our bodies are our own, for now I can add she’s smart too when they do.

Our daughters take in everything we say and do. I have felt the shame that only women know and as much as I want my daughter never to feel that shame, one day she might.

My daughter should feel her worth and I hope for her body to always be her own. I want her to know that she can be a dancer or a scientist. I want her to know that being a mom is never ever being “just” a mom but if she wants to be a mom “and” something she can. If she doesn’t want to be a mom that’s okay too.

I want her to know that I will always be her safety even when I cannot keep her safe. Feminists look like Beyonce and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and they look like her dad and me, because we believe in equality for her and all women. I am strong for what I have overcome. I want her to be strong no matter what comes.

Our paths will not be the same and I cannot fear for her because of what I have seen. In being a girl mom I am learning to let go and hold tight all at once, to change the messages she receives until she can change them for herself. I am learning to change the messages I receive too because for now, she sees the world through her mother’s eyes.