I always thought I would be raising daughters. I imagined myself nurturing fierce girls who would blaze their own trails, building on the legacy of a strong feminist mother, eventually exceeding my own achievements. But life had other plans, and I found myself with sons. And let me tell you, I’m that mom of boys.
You know the type, right? (Don’t pretend; I can sense your eye rolls from my living room.) I’m the mother who insists that when discussing a female over 18, the term “woman” should be used. I seize every opportunity to highlight the disparities in language when referencing boys versus girls. Sure, I might go a bit overboard at times, but it’s all in the name of making a point — even if it occasionally backfires.
I’m the one who tirelessly lectures my sons about respecting boundaries, emphasizing the importance of listening when someone says, “I don’t like that” or “Stop touching me.” Even though my youngest is just 8 and preoccupied with anything but girls or boys, I still remind them, “Look at me. This is crucial. When someone asks you to stop, you must stop immediately.”
I’m that mom who’s always bringing attention to the accomplishments of women and girls. I teach my sons to hold doors open for everyone, not just girls, because it’s not about being polite; it’s about treating others with respect. I’m the one who frequently insists that while boys and girls may be different, one is not superior to the other. I constantly remind them that you can’t determine someone’s gender based on their appearance, preferences, or behavior.
I’m the mom who challenges stereotypes at every turn. I don’t allow my children to play video games that objectify women. I’ve ensured they understand what a period is, what tampons do, where babies come from, and the anatomy of a vagina. When the time is right, I’ll explain that yes, women enjoy sex because it is pleasurable.
I’m the passionate mom who had a serious talk with my son about how to treat girls respectfully at school dances. I told him it’s unacceptable to mock or disrespect anyone, even if he’s too shy to dance. I’ve made it clear that if I ever hear they’ve ridiculed a girl’s appearance or demeaned her in any way, there will be consequences. I’m the one who insists that phrases like “cry like a girl” are offensive, unfair, and inaccurate.
I refuse to excuse aggressive behavior simply because they are boys. I’m the mom who engages in endless discussions at the dinner table about women’s underrepresentation in history, quizzing them about important facts regarding women’s rights and voting. Yes, I truly am that mom.
I’m the one who will repeatedly emphasize the significance of sex education, consent, and that when in doubt, “no” is a clear answer. I’m the one who’s boring them with conversations about the crucial roles women have played throughout history. I’m passionate about advocating for equality and teaching them to value people for who they are, rather than their gender.
I’m not overly concerned with raising gentlemen; your daughters deserve boys and men who view them as equals. I’m that relentless mom, always pointing out that girls can do anything boys can do, and vice versa—except for childbirth, of course.
Yes, I’m that mom. I may be a bit of a nuisance, a broken record, but I’m dedicated to raising boys who see your daughters as equals, partners, and fellow human beings. I’m committed to fostering a generation of men who prioritize creating a more equitable world for everyone.
I’m prepared to take the criticism, the eye rolls, and the sighs if it means making a difference.
In summary, I’m the mom who’s determined to raise feminist boys who will treat others with respect and equality. I’m creating a legacy of kindness and understanding, ensuring that my sons grow up to be advocates for a fairer world for all.