Are the sexes equal? The world says, No.

Bratz. Libby Lu. Sweet and Sassy. Abercrombie. Glamor Shots. Justice for Girls. Barbie.

How can I let my daughters believe that women should have equal rights as men, and then throw them to the wolves with the things listed above? How can I let my daughters see that our society says one thing about women, and actually has an opposite attitude? How can I explain to them that when a marketer uses the term "girl power," they actually mean the opposite? How can women be seen as equals when the world wants them to grow up to be infantile consumers?

Barbie has been around for a long time. I have my classes do a brainstorm on the word "Barbie" when we start talking about advertising. Everyone in class has several qualities in mind when it comes to the doll. Everyone has an idea of who she is. She has penetrated generation after generation, influencing how millions upon millions of girls have grown up.

And she's doing it wrong.

When girls play with Barbie, they are role playing. They make Barbie their avatar. She is their avatar to the world of grown-ups. This is where they begin to mold their knowledge of what is expected of them when they grow up. And what is Barbie's main function? To shop.

She has a credit card. She has a mall. She had a college once, and at her college, there wasn't a single classroom; all stores and hangouts. That's right girls, you go to college to find "your style" and a husband. She has a "dream house," as if every girls should embrace the same dream, a three-story house with an elevator (one of the floors she can't even stand up in, poor girl).

These girls learn early on that power in this world comes from being able to buy. That meaning for a girl comes from attracting and holding onto the right man.

But she's not alone.

Bratz shows the pleasures of slut-hood when trying to attract attention. Libby Lu shows that a girl is never too young to worry about what size she fits into. Sweet and Sassy teaches girls that being pampered is much better than actually, say, doing something, like they do at boys' birthday parties. Abercrombie sells thong panties to girls as young as four. Glamor Shots has a sign in the window right now that show a woman looking all frumpy and junky, and next to her, the after shot shows her looking all rich and slutty, saying "From Mom to Wow!" That's right girls, the last thing you want to be in this world is a mom--they totally suck. Justice for girls sells a type of short-short to girls ages 4-12 called "the pork chop."

This is a hostile environment. This is a poisonous culture. How can I teach my girls about personal freedom when all the world wants to do is teach them now about what mold a girl should fit into?

I'm afraid. I'm very afraid. I never had to deal with this as a kid. Boys have always been encouraged to be free spirits. They're always told the world is theirs and that they can be anything they want to be. Not girls.

You don't believe me?

Go to Halloween.com. Click on costumes for kids. Split things up by gender. Go to the category marked "occupation." Hell, I'll do it for you.

For boys, they offer 73 occupations.

Girls get 9. And three of them are nurses.

Our society teaches boys the pleasures of the world. It teaches girls the limitations.

How do I navigate this?

A Candle for Violette

We're burning this for Violette today, the day of her funeral.

Just to Let You Know...

Without any subtlety whatsoever, How to be a Badass Dad has now gone ad-free. What a dumb idea those were. Until it can pay enough to let me drop the whole "working" thing, we will stay that way.

An Offering of Feelings for Violette and Tracey

I wrote this for Tracey the day that Violette died. It's much more raw than the letters that I later wrote for Violette. But I wanted to share it here, too, so that I have a record of this week, that when I look back, I see more of what it was.

Here we go:

I am heartbroken. I don’t know what to say. I’m trying, and I beg you not to be offended. I will write more. I will find a way to say the happy things I’m sure you want to be said. But I cannot do that right now. This is all I can do:

Two songs were in my head when I woke up this morning. They were songs that I played back in the 5^th or 6^th grade. One of them was in jazz band, called “Traces.” One of them was in concert band called “Elegy for a Rose.” I thought about those songs for a while; both melancholy, both somehow significant. I couldn’t figure out why songs from 20 years ago that I’ve never heard except when playing would be swirling around in my head.

It sounds really stupid for me to act like the titles of these songs were somehow psychic. You have to change them, after all, to make them make sense—add a Y, change a flower. But it is also stupid to imagine that someone that I know could feel so much pain and that I would be oblivious to it. It’s foolish to think that somehow each of us didn’t already feel it somewhere. I’m so, so sorry, Tracey.

Elegy for Violette

Whose quicksilver toes not quite

Cleared the whirring edge of night

When you called me, this passage went through my head. It’s from a poem that my grandmother shared with me about a daughter’s passing away. I don’t remember who wrote it. It’s just my first thought, the rawness of the moment, the shock, the numbness.

There’s nothing to say. I’ve been asked to try. I’ll speak around things. I’ll make outlines of words, paint the emptiness between the leaves to show a tree. I’ll try:

Every moment in life is filled. Sounds, music, wind blowing, laughing, meetings, partings, touching. From time to time, it’s possible to see that what fills these every moments all points in the same direction. That everything in your life causes you to drift in the direction of something. And when it’s found, you can see that it’s not so much that it’s the meaning of your life, or the most important thing in your life, but it is your life.

When I met my daughters, the world stood still. There are not words for this, it’s beyond words. It is the only singularity that can happen more than once; every time a child is born. The fabric of the universe is transcended. There is nothing there but you and that baby. And people say “perfect” far too often for the word to retain enough power to describe that moment, that child, that forever purpose that you feel.

Violette. She bloomed just for you.

There isn’t really a good definition of love. I’ve read so many. I’ve seen how writers and filmmakers try and portray the feeling. But they scratch the surface. And you and I both know that, Tracey, because we’ve felt what it’s like. We’ve been there when the baby has been born, when the Earth shook; that is the time when everything else in the world lost its meaning, only love gained a meaning, became defined.

That’s the moment that you realize you never should have said “perfect” before. You never should have said “love” before. You didn’t understand what it was that those words pointed to. What every moment of your life pointed to. You and your husband knew love, but not in the same way. You chose your husband, he chose you. But it becomes refined, perfected, and ethereal and you create something that is so much more than what you are.

And my god, Tracey.

My god. Every bit as wonderful, as perfect, as holy as that moment was. This moment is not. It is the reverse. The negative image. Opposite is too light of a word. Pain is too friendly an emotion. I can’t imagine. I’ll be honest with you—I don’t want to imagine, Tracy, what you’ve gone through, what you’re going through.

I can’t imagine the emptiness in your arms.

A parent’s love for their daughter is immortal. The love between the two of you will remain as tangible and solid as it ever was. The time you had together will forever still be there. Wherever you are, it’s still there. It’s a moment beyond time that you can visit any time you need to. And you know that because you were there not long ago and you know what I’m talking about.

You called me twice in your life Tracey. Once when the doors swung wide and she came into this world. Once when the door shut behind her. With the door closed, that light doesn’t come in. The room is darker. My god, it’s darker.

You called me this time, under these circumstances, and asked me to say something. To write something. And I am too pained to imagine being flattered. But I am so scared to disappoint with what I write. I don’t know if I can do exactly what you ask of me. Instead you have this. It wonders around between the light and the dark, the love and the loss. And I’m afraid I just can’t separate those things. I wanted, Tracey, really wanted to write something that would make your spirit soar, would make your heart glad, would put the proper value on the miracle of life that is your daughter.

But the world is crippled without her. What can I possibly do? What kind of hubris would I display to act like I could make something happy right now? The world is a worse place. And as dark and terrible as this fact is, its opposite is also true: it is a better place for having had her; she made the world a better place. And that can’t be undone.

Be with your family. Shut nothing out. Your children will know that you and your husband have changed. But so has the world.

She would wake up before you. And when you opened your eyes, she would giggle, surprised and delighted that you decided to join the day with her.

Her smile. Her voice. Her hair. Her touch. Her smell. Her breath. These are for you to keep. No one else will ever know them the way you do. They are her gift to you, Tracey. Keep them and treasure them. She will giggle next time you join her and it will be a familiar sound.

Seven Letters to Violette Throughout her Life

This is a poor and simple attempt at bringing loss into focus. I want to see this, somehow, to understand the unbelievable.

I'm cross posting this from my personal blog. I feel kind of bad. I don't have Violette's parents permission to go writing letters to her in public, but I did it anyway. I'm going to make sure they don't mind next time I talk to them. But this tragedy, this loss, that our friends are experiencing has been too much for us this week. So I'm dealing with it the best way I know how--the only way I really can--talking and writing about it.

I've been writing all week, trying to make sense out of what has happened to friends of mine. Permit me this hubris, this poor attempt to put things into words. I can't stop doing it, so I can't say it's my last. But read, if you will, some thoughts I've written for her.

Dear Violette-

I want to tell you something about apples. Apples are very amazing things. From the smallest seed, they create a tree. The tree grows pure white flowers—blossoms—and all that flower needs to turn into an apple is sunshine, wind, rain, days, nights. From a blossom, to a green bud, to a green apple, to a red one. It drops from the tree, grows its own tree, has its own blossoms.

You were a beautiful blossom. But you won’t get the wind, rain, and sunshine that you need to grow into your own tree. It’s experience that ripens us. I want to share some of mine with you. Come along with me and we’ll take the smallest, pinhole view of your life. I want you to taste it just a little, in case you were wondering, in case you’re not sure. Take my hand, let’s walk.

8/2008

Dear Violette-

You haven’t been here long, but you’ve learned many of the basic principles of life that will drive the rest of your development. You’re just that little, perfect blossom, but you know what it is to be loved, and truly bonded to others. Your day depends on your family. Your every sensation comes from them. Your view of the world is filtered through them.

Your mom gives you all that you need. She’s there like background music, always giving to you. Your brother and sister teach you how to smile. They give you something to smile about. Your dad makes you feel comfortable and safe beyond words—wrapped in a blanket of absolute love in his arms.

I’m sorry that you won’t move beyond these simple pleasures in life, but be assured that these are the pure forms of emotion that everything else is built upon. Nothing else will ever match this.

8/2013

Dear Violette-

You’re five. We’ve met a few times by now, I hope. And you’ve accomplished the single greatest accomplishment of your life already—you learned how to talk.

What you don’t know is that this acquisition has really given you a way to understand the world around you. But you still don’t know how much you look up to your mom and dad. Your learning to speak was you wanting to be like them. And you want to be like them in ways that will never fully rise to the surface.

Your brother and sister show you how to act. You imitate their every move, trying to forge a connection between your world and theirs.

Do you have a little brother or sister by now who looks up to you? Who you taught how to smile?

Mom is always there when you need her. So much so that she’s not quite separate from you in your mind. You’re like a little part of her in many ways, exploring the world and returning to her with what you have learned. She makes sense of this for you. She helps you focus what it is you’ve seen, what it is you’re feeling.

Dad is still the pillar of the world. He keeps the sky in place, makes the sunsets, weaves the stars, has an answer for every question in all of creation. He is amazing to you, almost as much as you are to him.

The joy of exploration fills you most days. Other days, you fall back into that quiet happiness of being around those you love.

8/2018

Dear Violette-

You’re 10 now. For the most part, the world of grown-ups is still remote and varnished; adults look like they really have-it-all-together.

But you’ve noticed a few cracks.

You’re parents are showing you something very important now: they’re showing you how to treat each other. You are seeing how to express love and appreciation and noticing the effort for the first time. You see that when mom and dad disagree—even when emotions get wrapped up—they know how to make things better, make things right again. You’re seeing that mom and dad are separate, that love binds them, that they navigate things as best they can. And showing you how to do that someday.

You’re reflection is in all of this. You are separate, you have permission to be imperfect as long as you try your best. This isn’t a sad revelation for you but a comforting one. It shows you that as you ripen—still green, but definitely and apple now—you are going to be like them after all.

You’ve probably noticed a few other things. Things that have always been around you; but you never knew you could yearn for them.

Maybe you can’t imagine going another day without riding a horse. Maybe you love the feeling of picking out your own book at the library, and at the end of the book, you can’t help but wonder what happens next.

Maybe it’s music: it’s been there all along, but it’s something you feel inside yourself too. You might want to make it yourself (remember when Mom used to sing to you?) Or maybe you want to dance with it.

Or, you might be wondering just how all this world works. You want to pull the face off of it, see the gears, watch the ticking, see it turning.

The world is open to you and you must follow your passions. These are the things that eventually, you’ll want to be when you grow up. And whatever it is that moves you, let me tell you to please trust it. Don’t look to the outside for approval, don’t look for security, follow what it is that moves you.

8/2024

Dear Violette-

This is a big one. You’re 16. A big part of you that has been growing inside of you for a while is starting to be shown on the outside: your independence. Is that a red sheen we see coming through on the apple?

You know you’re ready to take the training wheels off, even if your parents don’t. You’ve watched your siblings as they’ve stretched their legs and discovered and created themselves in small ways. You want that too, don’t you?

Maybe, just maybe, you’ve put some distance between you and your parents. Maybe you’ve tried seeing what would happen if you didn’t listen to them and tried to figure things out for yourself here and there.

But in your world, things are moving fast. In your world, there is a lot that you have to try and understand very quickly. It’s these things, these important things that bring you back to your parents. You talk to them and are surprised when they understand what language you’re speaking. They pull out their own maps from years ago, and they can find out where you are—or what you’re close to, at least. They help you see the world a little better.

You have friends whose parents ignore these important things. Or crush them away with rules. But not your parents. Just like they always have, they put everything aside, put down whatever it was they were doing, and they listen to you. They give you the best gift they can at this point in your life—their attention.

They see—they know—that you’re growing. They can tell that you are getting ready to fall from the tree, to plant yourself, to grow your own blossoms. But they want you with them a little longer, so you can forgive them if they don’t always offer the answers you want to hear.

And so.

203—

Dear Violette-

Are you 25? 30? These last ten or so years have moved so much more quickly than the first. Did you notice that? And the paths are multiplied at this point and I can’t tell you which one you took. We were holding hands through this, but now you’ve let go. You’re walking on your own and keeping your own secrets. This is as far as I can go with you, after all, and it’s yours from here, right?

That passion you felt when you were 10? I hope you’ve embraced it. I hope you’ve refined it.

The independence from 16? I hope you’ve come back to your parents, still bonded, but a full formed individual, no longer seeking independence from them but a new kind of incorporation.

There’s a chance your heart has been broken. Much of the world makes more sense with those little scars healing on your heart. You feel those places vividly. Music, art, voices, words, a scented breeze on a warm summer night—these things are powerful in your new, healing heart. It will always be healing now, you know? Never fully healed because the world doesn’t know how to be gentle with you anymore.

There’s also a chance that you’ve found love. You were born into love, immersed in it. And you might have found someone to share it with. You reinterpret it, translate it, create it with this person, with your passion, with theirs. New chemical compounds of emotions are made. Love cannot be created or destroyed—only refined.

Maybe Violette—and you’re keeping secrets here, mouth smiling to hold in those secrets from me—maybe you’ve had your own baby by now. Maybe you have grown your own tree, grown your own blossoms.

I can’t tell you what it’s like to have the life grow inside you. Feeling the movements, communing late at night when the rest of the house is asleep, silently, gently.

I can’t tell you how to walk through that baptism by fire that is birth.

Only your mom can really tell you what it’s like, remembering the first time she met you in the open air, a face she knew so well already.

But it is pure, isn’t it? That same pure that you were surrounded in when you were three months old. That same sense of meaning. Have you felt that by now, Violette?

Like I said. This is as far as my experience can take you; you’ve let go hands and are on your own. I cannot give you the rain and wind and sunshine that you really need anymore. But maybe I can share some of mine with you, you can feel a little of what we feel.

Your blossom let go of the branch too soon. Your time there was beautiful. Everyone who saw that perfect, white blossom was moved in the pit of their being.

Dear Violette-

You’ll never know how much we miss you. Thank you and goodbye.

The Worst thing a Parent can go through

A friend of mine lost her daughter today. Her name was Violette and she was three months old. She had a fall yesterday and let go today.

My friend called me to tell me about it. She has two other kids, both preschoolers. I feel for her terribly, and I know none of you know her, but I hope you can spare a thought for her today and in the days to come as this surreal impossibility becomes her reality.

How do you talk to your kids about death? How do you approach this with the kids that are still with her?

I remember when I found out that all people die. My brother told me and it was confirmed moments later by my mom. But it wasn't something I had to deal with, really, for a long time.

We're probably foreclosing on a house. Our TV broke yesterday and we won't afford a new one for a long time. I'm going to have to ask my parents for money for groceries this week.

And I feel terrible that these things bothered me a couple hours ago. I have my family sitting with me, two of them climbing all over me while I write. I've never felt luckier.

The world isn't fair. Maybe that's the place to start with kids. The world isn't fair. Any time it's nice, it's by accident. The world isn't fair.

"We'll See;" The art of putting off answers

It was the most frustrating thing my parents could ever say to me. Every time I asked for something that didn't seem completely probable, I had to hear it:

We'll see.

It's more effective than "go ask your mother." It's more noncommittal than "in a little while." It's more devastating than "no." And yet for the last few weeks, I just keep hearing myself say it. But it's just so darn useful. I can't stop saying it. It quells whatever storm a no answer might generate and it prevents an out-and-out lie with a yes answer.

One of the strange effects of parenting is hearing my parents' words coming out of my mouth--but this time they make sense. Much of the advice, explanations, rules, discipline that I had to hear when I was little has snuck into my daughters' lives. And yet, I just don't see any other way. But when a kid asks for something that is totally unreasonable or just not possible at the moment, or it is reasonable and possible but just not convenient, I catch myself saying that one dreaded line.

My wife and I try to be as honest as we can be with our parenting. We try to answer questions truthfully, even if they may not fully grasp the answer. We don't give them B.S. reasons for rules or discipline. We try to be truthful whenever we can be. But when we're leaving the swimming pool and my eldest daughter says, "Can we come back later today?" I just can't seem to tell her no. Yeah, maybe we can. If we have definite plans, I tell her no, but if it's the weekend and it's early enough, I just can't shatter her bubble.

The truth of the matter is that she probably won't want to come back to the pool later. Probably we'll get busy enough with whatever activity we do end up doing that she'll forget all about it. What she's really asking for, in my mind, is to make the glory of the swimming last a little bit longer. She's looking for a way to let go easily and not have it torn from her hands. So by putting off an answer, I feel like I've let her down easy. Chances are, she'll not really be concerned about the answer once the opportune time has rolled around.

This is the case with most of the questions that proceed the "we'll see." These questions are usually about future activities or purchases that occur during times of transition. Even if I know the answer is "no" to skipping nap time when we get home from an activity, saying that we'll see about it let's her hold on to the prospect long enough to then make her decision that she really would like a nap, anyway.

I don't see it as a totally dishonest way to avoid answering a question. But perhaps that's just the cognitive dissonance talking. Perhaps I've merely asked myself the question, "Is this lying to your child?" and I've answered "We'll see."

What to Expect during the First Trimester

Anything. Everything.

Our third pregnancy is now in week 12, which means that horrible first bridge has already been crossed: the first trimester. There's some really exciting stuff that happens the first trimester, and feelings of butterflies and giddiness are frequent, but altogether, it's my least favorite trimester.

My wife's first trimesters have always been the most problematic stage of the pregnancies (here's where I knock on wood). And they've had a very definite downward slope.

With pregnancy number one, my wife was only sick an hour or two a day. She was decently energetic and very excited. You set your watch by when the waves of nausea set in (1pm) and cravings were plentiful. She was very specifically revolted by chicken. She couldn't even see the word spelled out without gagging. Everything was very new to both of us and we awaited our doctor appointments with glee. The most inconvenient thing about the whole situation was the increased frequency of urination. Spirits were high.

During the second pregnancy, the first trimester was trouble. We had a six month old to deal with from the get go, so even brief spells of nausea were like torture. Dealing with a baby that is just learning to crawl while dealing with the tiredness that accompanies such activities as making a placenta just don't mix well. A lot more is asked of the dad during these second pregnancies. But, unlike the first pregnancy, it often feels more "real" for the dad during the second pregnancy; we've seen what this all leads to once before. Chocolate was her new best friend. My wife lost weight during the first trimester of the second pregnancy and we were often worried about her nutrition--something that never happened the first time around.

If the first two first trimesters were spring showers, this most recent first trimester was a hurricane. My wife was often sick from morning until night. She was tired for even longer. And like some kind of sick joke, sleeping was difficult, too. What was most frustrating for her was that she would often feel very very hungry, eat something really small, then feel like she had been force-fed a Thanksgiving feast. "Tired" had a new meaning for her. Again, this time around, she has actually lost weight and we find ourselves doing some kind of reverse weight-watchers thing; we try and make sure she has enough calories a day and often doesn't get there.

We're just pulling out of it, and we couldn't be more happy to enter the "honeymoon trimester" that is often the second.

If there're any soon-to-be-dads out there who's wife is the pregnant for the first time, I have just a little bit of advice to offer. I think as a dad, it's important to remember that this whole pregnancy thing is going on in the first place. There are no real visual indicators that your wife is pregnant and all you are really doing is sitting around and waiting. But your wife is going through this the whole time and it's very real for her. She can feel it happening inside of her. It's okay to go a few hours without thinking of it, but remind yourself often to check and see how the girl is doing.

There are a few things you can do to help out (of course, I don't have any actual medical advice). First of all, if your wife has a lot of nausea, suggest ginger snacks. Those never worked for us. After that, try B6 and Milk Thistle supplements. Sometimes sensory experiences can help; my wife works a pottery wheel and never feels sick while doing it. Always remember that sometimes, eating while feeling sick actually makes you feel better; better than being sick on an empty stomach, at least.

If she's tired, suggest an iron supplement. Of course, this can complicate already complicated digestive issues during pregnancy. We found a liquid iron supplement called Floridix. She shoots it while pinching her nose twice a day and feels much, much better. Since it's liquid, there's a much higher absorbtion rate and the digestive issues don't pop up as much. But the stuff is expensive.

However bad your first trimester is, remember that the second trimester is on the way. Things generally get better at that point. If anyone has any other tips or anecdotes to share, please pass them on!