It totally figures that the launch topic of this blog will
be the (so-called) occasional rant referred to in the title. (Get to know me
and this will surprise you less and less).
Let’s pull you up to speed on a teensy bit of back-story
first, though. Many months ago my 16
year old daughter began insisting, due to the robust discussions that occur on
my facebook page, that I craft a blog. I
was hugely resistant: “Seriously,” I said, “who wants to hear the thoughts of a
nondescript woman who, when she’s not in her counselling chair doing treatment
work with addicts, is at home crafting tales about the imaginary friends in her
head?”
Yet my daughter insisted, and, after much consideration, it’s
ironic that it is the occurrence of several conversations regarding her that finally prompted this blog and
the reflection you’re about to read: a commentary about girls and women and
what being noticed and valued should mean—versus
what they sometimes do.
So here goes:
“Does your daughter have a boyfriend?” I get this question all the time; in the
grocery store, on the street, at community events, even (although thankfully
more rarely) at work. We live in a small
town. Our family is reasonably well-known (sometimes more than I’d like) and my
daughter is active in many venues. Now,
one would think this question, “Does your daughter have a boyfriend?” would
come from the ‘suspected sources’: eager young suitors wanting to date my lovely
oldest. Nope. “Does your daughter have a boyfriend?” is almost
always asked by <drumroll>… other women. And the question increases, with
depressing frequency, as my daughter gets older.
It always confounds me.
“Does your daughter have a boyfriend?”
Why is this relevant?
I have to bite my tongue (I have a deplorable habit of sometimes being
too caustic), yet I always want to reply with what’s knee-jerk: “Does my daughter have a boyfriend? No. But let me tell you what she does have. My daughter has a ballbreaking over-all
academic average in Grade Eleven pure (that would be baccalaureate) courses. My
daughter has a part time job she is faithful to, one she frequently picks up
extra shifts for and is wily about a willingness to work statutory holidays for
because those days “pay double-time, Mom!”.
My daughter also, currently, has one of the lead roles in her high
school’s theatrical production—the small-town equivalent of a Big Hairy Deal—and
as such my daughter also often has 16
hour work days between attending school and participating in rehearsal for
drama.
My daughter clearly has one hell of a work ethic.
My daughter has kick-ass time management skills.
My daughter has ambition and drive and plans for her
academic future.
My daughter has, due to hard work and intellect, written her
own ticket in terms of being able to apply for virtually any faculty that may
interest her as she prepares to launch into post-secondary education.
My daughter, however, does not have a boyfriend and yet this is the question on the lips of
most women when they ask after my oldest.
Why?
What on earth makes this—or any of the reasons for it, ’cause
believe me, those too are probed: (“Well why
doesn’t she have a boyfriend? Isn’t she interested? Aren’t any boys interested…?”)—remotely
important? Why not ask me about any of
the other aforementioned facts about her, information which truly does
illustrate her as a compelling, impressive, and frankly remarkable human being?
Nope, again. All I get asked is about a damn boyfriend and
that caustic part of me (the one whose tongue needs a leash) wants to challenge
the askers of this question to please, the next time they put it forth to me or
any other parent, play it all the way through in their minds. Ask: why you want
to know? Are you truly measuring the worth of a young
woman based on whether or not a member of the opposite sex (or the same sex,
depending) has decided to afford her
some time and affection? Really? That’s
the only component of her you feel has value?
Or maybe you’re asking “Does your daughter have a boyfriend?”
because you want to know who /what / when / where the young woman is spending
time. (Which, incidentally, is a very kind way of saying you want to gossip
about her). If this is the case let me
sum up every single teenage love affair for you so that you need gossip and
ponder over it no more: In one simple sentence, these relationships suck. They
suck because kids are…well, they’re kids.
They’re still developing and as such are dreadfully unskilled in connections of
a romantic and /or sexual nature because—here’s a newsflash—relationships are
hard to navigate even for adults with
the luxury of experience. In short, if this question—“Does your daughter have a
boyfriend?”—is indeed cocktail fodder for you and your cohorts then I implore
you to seek a different hobby (hey, have one of mine! I can’t contend with the
multitude of them!) for there is nothing new under the sun here. Buy a YA novel
if you’re truly intent on analyzing the relationships of kids (and I can assure
you, most of those relationships suck too. Pathos makes for great fiction) or,
even better, invest in book on child development. It will be your authority on
everything misadventurous about kids’ relationships and never put you in the
awkward position of sincerely offending a parent by asking “Does your daughter
have a boyfriend?”
Gestalt Therapy contends that ‘the whole is greater than the
sum of its parts’ and as a clinical social worker for twenty-odd years I can
certainly attest that this is true. So in turn this must mean that a person’s
relationship status (or lack thereof) is
only one mere shade of pale upon a spectrum coloured by far more compelling
virtues and pursuits—right? If you are a
woman reading this then I challenge you, in particular, to accept that we, as
females, are especially charged to
stop trivializing each other and to assess one another in a far less linear and
much more robust fashion than a question like “Does your daughter have a
boyfriend?” does. Aren’t we, after all, worth
so much more than any arm charm that might dangle from someone’s crooked elbow?
Does our desirability to a potential suitor really
need to define us, illustrate us, make us somehow more ‘worthy’?
I challenge you too to start asking different questions: “What’s
your daughter’s favourite school subject?” “How does your daughter balance her
busy days?” “Which extra curricular
activity lights your daughter up the most?” The potential for discussion—and to truly exemplify how we value our world’s
young women—is endless. As for me? I don’t think I’m going to answer “Does your
daughter have a boyfriend?” politely anymore.
br / December 01, 2013
Bonnie Randall is a
Canadian writer who lives between her two favourite places— the Jasper Rocky Mountains and the City of
Champions: Edmonton, Alberta. A clinical
counsellor who scribbles fiction in notebooks whenever her day job allows, Bonnie
is fascinated by the relationships people develop—or covet— with both the known
and unknown, the romantic and the arcane.
Divinity & The
Python, a paranormal romantic thriller, was inspired by a cold day in Edmonton
when the exhaust rising in the downtown core appeared to be the buildings,
releasing their souls. It is Bonnie’s first novel. http://www.amazon.com/Divinity-Python-Bonnie-Randall/dp/1940581990/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385933076&sr=8-1&keywords=divinity+and+the+python
