One of the first things I observed about adolescence is its unpredictable nature; it unfolds in stages, much like a dripping faucet—slow at first, then suddenly overflowing. I could sense the impending changes, but the transition was gradual, punctuated with moments of rapid transformation. A newly squeaky voice, an insatiable appetite, a constant need for larger clothing, followed by periods of normalcy, routine, and the familiar struggles of picky eating.
Then, it escalated.
Before I knew it, after two years of these fits and starts, my little boy had evolved into something different—a boyman, straddling the line between childhood and adulthood. He exhibited a new gait, lanky limbs, and an awkwardness that seemed to accentuate his uncertainty about his own space. The physical transformation was evident, but it was only the beginning of the changes.
His personality began to reflect a newfound hardness, with a tendency to express more negativity and judgment toward others—a manifestation of his desire to establish his own identity. “Emotions are dumb, Mom,” he declares in rebellion against my encouragement to embrace his feelings. I respond with a smile and deep breath, knowing that this phase will pass. I offer him no walls, just acceptance and patience. “Who you are today is a beautiful and temporary boyman, and I want to embrace all of this with compassion and understanding.” My spiritual practice revolves around letting go of worry or diagnosis. He is a boyman, and that is perfectly acceptable.
He may reject my affection in public, but he snuggles close during our TV time. He experiences bursts of anger and tears, all while dismissing the validity of any emotion. Caught in a cultural battle that commodifies worth and enforces rigid gender roles, he embodies contradictions—soft yet tough, sweet yet sour, hungry yet not. He is a boyman.
In his early years, each day brought a new adventure: What will he say next? How will he explore today? How will I remain calm during his tantrums? Now, the adventure continues. What does he want to discuss today? How’s his appetite? What does he need from me? How is he really feeling?
This stage of boymanhood is precious. The spiritual practice of parenting a teenager involves patience, nonreactivity, and kindness. I hold up a mirror only when necessary; this boyman is navigating a fast-moving stream of changes. It’s temporary and ever-evolving—so I strive not to react impulsively to the version of him that exists today. I must create space for him, see him clearly, and accept him fully, intervening only when absolutely essential. He’s experimenting with who he is, testing boundaries, and feeling highly sensitive. He’s hungry, tired, scared, angry, and ultimately, he’s okay.
I’ve learned to ask open-ended questions: “How was math class? Who did you sit with at lunch?” I put my computer aside when he joins me, all elbows and knees in his chair. I engage him in discussions on politics, social issues, and faith—his preferred topics—offering him space to express his evolving thoughts.
As he explores his identity through personality quizzes, we dream together about his future—colleges, majors, careers. “Mom, what do you think would be a good job for me?” I respond thoughtfully, “I can see you thriving in this or that.” I encourage him to remain open-minded, to explore freely without feeling anchored to a specific path.
I’ve learned to comfort him with warm meals when he’s emotional and to take his hand when he allows it, hugging him while we watch TV. I respect his boundaries, avoiding kisses but allowing the occasional pat on the head.
I honor his needs, remaining silent while I watch him play soccer, resisting the urge to react when he’s fouled and struggles to get up. He is two. He is nearly 15. He is both to me.
Occasionally, I catch glimpses of him through the eyes of those who don’t know him as I do. Their judgments of his intense moods and opinions can make me anxious. Yet, I return to my mother’s heart, reminding myself that it’s okay for them not to see what I see. I am his mother, dedicated to understanding him. It’s my spiritual practice to stay attuned to his essence as a boyman. I strive to neither judge nor defend him but rather to help others understand his journey through this stage of exploration.
My boyman will turn 15 and start high school in August. I am his mother, and that is my role. I love him unconditionally and cherish the opportunity to witness his unique journey on this planet. I aim to be a beacon of love, guiding him through life’s storms. This is my most significant spiritual practice, and I am continually awakened by his existence. My cherished boyman.
This article was originally published on May 30, 2021.
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Summary:
Raising a teenage boyman is a journey filled with challenges and transformations. As he navigates adolescence, parents must practice patience, acceptance, and nonreactivity. Understanding the complexities of his emotions and identity is crucial. The article emphasizes the importance of being a supportive presence, helping the boyman explore his evolving self while providing a safe space for him to grow.