Growing Girls With Purpose

I’ve had the pleasure of being invited to a book club of truly creative, inspiring, interesting and strong women. Several of the members write and publish a new magazine – get born. It’s a bold, brave, creative look at mothering. Not just the “oh how sweet” parts, though there is that, but the parts you didn’t know were going to happen or the parts that make you a little ashamed of yourself for feeling.

I was touched by the below piece, printed with permission from the editor Heather Janssen, because I could relate so well to Carol Lang’s daughter’s habit of talking back “as if  my equal.” It begs the question, “Is this inevitable, no matter how frustrating and painful, if one is intent on raising a strong daughter? As opposed to the former, girls should be passive and docile and keep their opinions to themselves or just not have any strong opinions at all? Is this a natural progression in the mother-daughter relationship, if we want them to grow up willing and able to express themselves boldly? If so, how on earth are we, as their mothers, supposed to handle it internally?  Because really, sometimes it just sucks to be on the receiving end of it.”

get born is a magazine that deserves to thrive. To do that, it needs subscribers. At only 16.95 a year, for four issues, it’s a great bargain to open the pages and have the divine pleasure of knowing, “Thank God, I’m not the only one who has ever felt this way.”

The Impostor Mother

by Carol Lang

When I was a kid, I didn’t play house. I didn’t play with dolls.  I played kick-ball and climbed trees. I chased boys, rode my bike and roller-skated all over the neighborhood.

I was a Girl Scout, but did poorly in all things “traditionally domestic.”  My mom gave up after a while.

When I was older, I did babysit. The money was awesome and the time with kids short. I didn’t dislike the kids but mostly I liked staying up late and watching Saturday Night Live.

I went to college, studied math, computers, chemistry. Drank too much but got good grades. I met a boy.

Got a husband, and a career with lots of promise.

Husband said he knew I would want a family some day and he was comfortable, and confident, to wait.

I got pregnant. I cried. Husband celebrated. I pretended I wasn’t pregnant, most of the time.

I really wanted to keep working. I knew that was wrong. I planned a long maternity leave.

I became a mother. I wasn’t prepared. I had absolutely no freaking idea what I was supposed to do with the amazing miracle my body had created. So precious. So fragile. A piece of my heart outside of my body (Elizabeth Stone).

I read. I read a lot. Good mothers are smart mothers, well educated mothers.   I spent money — on the “right” toys, “right” foods, “right” products, “right” activities.

All my mother friends seem so confident, so on top of things.  Their babies so perfect. Perfectly wonderful, or perfectly horrible. Mine just are.  We mothers play a game. It’s competitive, ruthless. I am uncertain of  the rules but I play.  A game of extremes:  best or worst; smartest or dumbest; strongest or weakest.  No average. No middle. I compete, fiercely. I only lose.

Along came Baby #2. And, #3.

What am I thinking? There’s no way I can handle all this. What made me think I could serve, protect, love three priceless, precious beings?

Babies are getting bigger, older. Challenges are growing, too. I feel pressure to find solutions.  I keep going.

I get promoted. And, promoted again. I am surprised this is happening. I am scared all the time. I wonder a lot about priorities.

I can organize. I can plan. I am over-protective, control-freaked, and obsessive about every detail.  Babies are active, and involved in many activities, maybe too many, maybe not enough. I can feel things start to unravel, but I must keep going. I must keep them going. Good foods, family dinners, homework in on time, to bed on time, clean bodies and clean clothes. And, myself, I must smile – stay calm, relaxed. My heart pounds out of my chest. I hope no one will see.

I am faking it. Every day I fail to meet the measure, meet the expectations.

I hate you, mom. You’re a bitch. Leave me alone.

Quiet, shhhh – someone will hear you and I’ll be found out.

My oldest son fails geometry.

My younger son lies, a lot.

My daughter is full of sass, rebellious and recalcitrant. She talks back as if my equal.

The paint is coming off the walls and there are more weeds in the gardens than flowers.

I look over my shoulder.  I worry I will be exposed, the imposter mother.   I fear for my babies.  Am I good enough for them?

Subscribe to get born.

I just finished Shattered Dreams: My Life as a Polygamist’s Wife by Irene Spencer.

I grew up Mormon so I have an historical interest in polygamy. I even have some limited personal experience with it. My father’s great-great’s were polygamous. Legend goes his great-great grandfather was polygamous when polygamy became outlawed in Utah in 1890. This caused a fracture in The Church, where many families continued to live by The Principle and the majority abided by the law. My dad’s great-great remained married to the youngest and prettiest wife and divorced the others, causing resentment from the rest of the wives, his great-great grandmother included. I could have this wrong. It’s only what I recall of family lore.

Added to that, one of the first boys I dated in Junior High in Orem, Utah came from a polygamist family. Two of the wives had divorced by the time I dated him, but he had 19 sibling-cousins. His father had married two sisters.

At times I watch Big Love or read books like this and think, “This might have been my potential future.”

Reading this book, what struck me was the common thread of men using religion and “the Word of God” to get what they want from women. The author, Irene Spencer, speaks in great detail of her personal feelings as a wife. So many of the justifications she used to convince herself to participate in things her own heart, soul, spiritual intuition and her own inner voice told her not to do, she did because her husband told her to and she believed he had to obey him to get into heaven and avoid hell.

The thing is, I’ve heard the exact justifications used by men to control women in every religion. This pattern of women ignoring their own innate spiritual guidance systems, their own promptings from the Holy Spirit, or whatever terminology different religions use, is a common thread in religion and the history of religion.

The other connection I made is her willingness to do anything for the promise of love. Not actual Love – just the promise of it. This is a common thread of women and girls in abusive situations. Love – it’s our Achilles heal. This desperate need for love must have been what the authors of Genesis referred to as “The Curse” when Eve was told she “would love her husband.” That’s why women will consent to abuse, tyranny and inequality in their relationships. In my opinion, the point of the story is to warn women NOT to do this – to overcome her curse – only then will she save herself. This same verse has tragically been used in countless congregations to convince women they should submit to their husbands.

Irene reminded me of Biblical figures like Sarah from Genesis. Following their husbands and prophet to the ends of the earth, often times to disastrous ends.

The fact that these stories end in disaster makes me question whether we’ve been reading The Book wrong. Many of these stories, in fact, appear to me as “what not to do” warnings. Still, we hear it preached from the pulpit as the example to follow.

I read Irene Spencer’s account of being enslaved by the dictates of male religious authorities, social orders of a legalistic religious nature, and blindly doing what her husband commands of her – ignoring what her own spiritual authority and divine connection is telling her – as an account of “what not to do.”

The real tragedy is that women don’t trust their own spiritual authority and divine connection more than they trust male authority figures.

Think of the profound, divine insight the planet has missed out on.

Sex Sells *Unfortunately we sell jeans.

Just walking through a Denver mall and saw this covering a massive store front. Thought you’d be interested. Part of me thinks it’s pretty clever the other part just can’t believe it’s come to this.

Remember when Kevin make a body-centered comment to a girl he liked and didn’t understand why he got slapped in the face? Then he emailed me and asked for advice, which he brilliantly followed. Dating ensued.

Ericka, the lovely girl he insulted, then made-good with and now respectfully dates, emailed me the below Thank You note.  It’s very sweet and I just love that this is working out for them. . . Oh and if you don’t know what the heck I’m talking about you can find the previous posts below.

Hi Tracee.  This is Ericka, the girl that Kevin met at the dance a while back.  I don’t know how to thank you for giving him advice.  It turns out that he’s a really sweet guy and we have a great relationship.  Lots of guys my age are jerks and I guess I assumed the worst about him when he made the “hourglass” comment.  I’m happy with my body shape but it’s really frustrating to be judged for your bra size and not your brains.  I do remember that he looked ashamed rather than angry after I slapped him and I was hoping I was wrong about him.  I was thrilled when I saw his email!  We’re having a great time and can now laugh about the first time we met.  Without your help, this might not have happened so you should feel great!  Also, I saw your blog entries covering this topic and thought they were excellent.

Thank you so much Tracee and abosolutely you can publish it on your site.  Kevin is such a gentleman and I definitely see long term possibilities.  We have so much fun together.  On a funny note, he is really tall at 6′6″ and I’m a short girl at 5′2″.  I really had to get on my toes and reach in order to connect with that slap, lol.   When I looked over about a minute later, he was still standing there by himself, holding his cheek, looking dumbfounded….I knew then that he was probably a nice guy who had just made a silly mistake.  I was thrilled when I heard back from him!
Body Image Question from 17-year-old Kevin

Respect Pays Off For Kevin