A Feminist’s Unexpected Gift: Raising a Son
Teaching boys to be whole is the best gift to women everywhere.
“To be a mother of a son is one of the most important things you can do to change the world. Raise them to respect women, raise them to stand up for others, and raise them to be kind.” - Shannon L. Alder
I’m not sure exactly when I became a feminist. Maybe it was when I realized how often women have to fight to be heard and the deep sense of injustice it brought up in me. Or perhaps I always was one, quietly absorbing how women have to advocate for themselves in order to get ahead.
What I do know is that becoming a mother to a boy and a partner to a man just now getting in touch with his own vulnerability is reframing it.
A few years ago, when we had some trouble getting pregnant, a friend of mine I very much admire suggested I purchase a toy or stuffed animal for my future child. Something I could look at and envision them — a spiritual “Welcome little one, I’m ready when you are.” The following week at a sweet children’s boutique, I was energetically drawn to a little grey elephant in a blue jumper. Something felt “sweet little boy” about it. I immediately connected to the idea of my unborn child, and something called me to him.
I’ve always been more comfortable around boys — likely due to exposure. I grew up with a younger brother and mostly cared for little boys after taking my babysitting course at twelve. I can’t recall ever changing a little girl’s diaper or dressing her in a sweet outfit.
As we progressed further into pregnancy, I started to like the idea of having a daughter. Probably there was some ego playing into the idea of creating a little version of myself, someone who I could help excel past the limits of my own experiences.
One day, a shaman at my parents’ place in Mexico, who has held ceremonies for our family over the years, guessed that I was carrying a strong, independent little girl.
I began to picture raising a young woman who could break down doors. A feminist who could fight for equality in a world that, although has certainly progressed, currently feels like it’s moving backwards for women and girls. I could raise a powerhouse woman to stand up for herself, and for those less fortunate.
But every single woman I know is a fighter. It made me wonder — is it really women who need to be stronger?
Is it up to the repressed to change things? Or the ones who hold privilege?
I’ve often sat in rooms full of women, at conferences or for panels, stats being rattled off about inequities and thought to myself “Women all know this. We need men to hear it.”
Women are still doing all the work, aren’t we?
I have also come to realize that the best thing I can do for women is to raise a feminist son.
When our beautiful son was born, I felt so incredibly blessed. My intuition from early on had been correct — I was to have a boy, after all.
There is no doubt that men continue to hold the majority of power in society. We see it in politics, in the list of richest billionaires on the planet. We see it in the division of labour in the home, and how women of our generation are doing everything we did before, PLUS work full time outside the home.
A few years ago I read a book called “For the Love of Men” by Liz Plank. Every few pages there was a line that made me stop in my tracks, including this one:
“If questioning the falsehoods women absorbed about themselves has led to so much social progress, imagine what reassessing the ones we hold about men could do.”
Rather than a strong woman, what if I raise a kind, brave, empathetic son?
A boy who’s allowed to cry and encouraged to self-soothe can become a man in touch with his emotions, who knows there’s more than anger to choose from.
I envision him as a protector — the kind of man who stands his ground, but who first approaches others with empathy and kindness. A man who will call out other men for an inappropriate remark, who will ensure women feel safe enough in his presence so we don’t have to live in our masculine to survive.
I don’t know if I’ll get it right. But I do know my goal is to teach him what it looks like when strength and softness coexist.
So far, he’s teaching me just as much — that being a feminist isn’t only about raising girls to be strong, but also about raising boys to be whole.
If women are able to reclaim softness, maybe men can learn to hold it too. Maybe that’s where equality begins.