On Privilege and Bias

This is a risk. I want to talk about what is happening in our country right now and I am at risk of saying something stupid, insensitive, wrong. But I would so much rather take that risk and learn from my mistakes than be silent.

Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor…these are just the names from the last few weeks. They are not the same story. All had different lives, different deaths, different stories. But all point to a sickness, a rot, deep in the system, that must be addressed.

We can be quick to get defensive when someone wants to talk to us about privilege. It feels like any acknowledgement of privilege is a claim that we didn’t have to work hard for where we got. That somehow we had it easy. The problem is, when we deny the existence of something, we lose control over it. If we have decided to pretend it’s not happening, look the other way, it can’t be addressed.

Because of this, it is VITAL that we be willing to take some time to look at, be aware, of our privilege. I’ll tell you a little about mine to get us started.

When I go into a store, I am never viewed suspiciously. I can walk to the bandaid aisle and pick some out that match my skin tone and aren’t noticeable. If I get pulled over for speeding, I’m not concerned this interaction could escalate and get away from me. I will teach my son to be kind and respectful, but I don’t have to worry that his life depends on his ability to do so. Honestly, as I start this list, I get overwhelmed. These privileges relate to my gender, my skin tone and they barely scrape the surface. We haven’t even touched on socioeconomic privilege. There are few groups of people with more privilege than I have as a middle class, white, American woman. If I can be aware of it, acknowledge it, then I can keep it in check. Then I can find ways to empower others. But here’s an important piece, I want to always be learning. I don’t want to hold the belief that I’m “woke” or “evolved” and know all about my privilege. I want to be able to recognize, with humility, that I have blind spots. We all do.

The other thing that is vitally important that we take a look at is our bias. Brace yourself, because this might be uncomfortable. We all have biases. And just like privilege, the more aware of them we can be, the more likely we are to keep them in check. Saying that we don’t see color is a denial of these biases and much more likely to lead us into hurting people, being reactive, or maintaining a broken system.

Have you ever been sitting in your car and seen someone walking up the sidewalk and reached over to punch the lock button? That was not the wrong thing to do. I’m not here to critique attempts at being safe. But, it could be evidence of bias. Something about that person led to you feeling uncomfortable, unsafe. Maybe it was their gender, maybe it was their skin color, maybe it was something in their demeanor. Maybe it was something in you. Locking the door is fine, but let’s also take a second and notice what’s happening. What prompted that action? Having bias doesn’t make you the bad guy here, it’s just so important to be aware of it. That is what allows you to keep it in check.

Imagine later you see this same person being harassed by a store owner. Ignoring your bias from earlier, might lead you to assume that it’s justified. It might lead you to be silent. Being aware of your own bias, however, might lead you to being aware of the potential bias of others. Maybe you could ask some questions, seek to understand the situation and what’s happening.

Being aware of your privilege and bias, really looking at it, is a way to begin to make things shift. You can keep these things in check in yourself and challenge them in others.

One of the hardest things about this week was feeling helpless. I have dear friends who are people of color and I’m grieving with them and angry on their behalf. I do not believe that riots are the solution, but I do understand the sentiment. And I believe that Jesus flipping tables in the temple might get it, too.

Grieving Brides

My husband and I made the decision early on that we would save sex for marriage. One night, when we were engaged, we were discussing whether or not to spend some time on our wedding registry. After going back and forth for several minutes, I finally said, “Let’s just do it!” He jokingly said, “I thought we were waiting, but ok then!” I rolled my eyes at him and told him to get his mind out of the gutter. His face softened as he looked at me and said, “That’s not the gutter. That’s a part of our marriage I’m really excited about.” I still tear up when I remember that moment. Until that moment, I wasn’t even aware that I viewed sex as “the gutter.”

When we were engaged, we took a premarital class through the church we were attending at the time. We covered conflict and finances and having a vision for your marriage. There was a great deal of good content in that class. One night we talked about sex. You could tell that everyone was nervous and a little extra giggly as we came in that evening. Within a few minutes of the start of the video, however, it became clear that the topic that night was not about sex, but about abstinence. In a premarital class. Now, I firmly believe that the safest and best context for sex is within marriage. But at some point the conversation needs to change. We need to stop focusing in abstinence and start focusing on healthy sexuality.

I signed my “True Love Waits” card in high school. I read “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” and “When God Writes Your Love Story” and “Passion and Purity.” The consistent message was “DON’T.” Don’t have sex, don’t get too handsy, don’t kiss for too long, actually, you should probably just wait until marriage to kiss so you don’t accidentally have sex.

Here’s the problem with this approach to sexuality: I often sit with grieving brides. At the most basic level, the way we talk about virginity as something we lose and don’t get back, sets a bride up for grieving on her wedding night if that’s her first time having sex. She feels loss. I know that, to some of you, that seems wrong, but when exactly was she supposed to flip that switch? She’s been taught her whole life that virginity is something she has to protect, lest she lose it. That’s so ingrained in her belief system, how else is she supposed to feel about it? ( I realize this can be a struggle for men, too, though I do not see it as often. The conversation we have with boys/men often is so different than with women. But that’s a post for another day.)

This isn’t the only cause for grief, though. Often, sex did not go the way she expected it to. The message was that, if you wait, it’s worth it. Sex will be magical. But it is rare that our first experience is magical in the way that we expect. Because we don’t do a great job of discussing healthy sexuality, most of us learn about what sex should be like in the movies. It’s always hot, steamy, passionate, clean and sexy! But if that’s the expectation, because no one is talking about sex, we are all set up for disappointment. The first time is typically a little awkward, a little messy, a little uncomfortable (or a lot uncomfortable.) That’s the magic of it. You’re in it together. You’re figuring it out. Even if one, or both of you, has had sex before and this is your first time together. It’s new and different. And this is just day one. There’s time.

Did you know that, when we are stressed, we tense our muscles? You probably are aware of this if you carry tension in your shoulders or back. What you may not realize is that we often carry tension in our pelvic floor, especially if we have anxiety around sex. If all of those muscles tighten down, that makes sex more painful and harder to do. Which makes us anxious, which leads to tension. See how that can escalate? And if the message your whole life has been “don’t” and you’ve fought to avoid having sex, it can be scary to try to suddenly be ok with it.

I have had many conversations with newlyweds about how sex just didn’t happen on the honeymoon. This has produced a lot of grieving brides. They are quick to believe that there’s something wrong with them, that they are a failure. It’s actually quite common for sex to be challenging on the honeymoon, particularly if one or both are virgins. But the message has been: if you just wait until marriage, it will be magical. So couples are blindsided when things don’t go quite the way they expect.

So, what am I saying here? I’m saying let’s change our language. Let’s broaden the conversation. Let’s talk about the importance of sex. Let’s talk about sex at all! Not just abstinence. Because the current message is: Don’t do it because it’s wrong. Do you remember being a teenager? Maybe you were the “good” kid who only needed that. But maybe you were the kid that wanted to test the limits and often dismissed the rules if you didn’t understand them (or maybe simply because it was a rule.) What kind of kid do you have?

Let’s talk to our kids about consent. Let’s talk to them about about their bodies and how they work. Let’s answer their questions. I realize this is uncomfortable, but that’s mostly because of the messages we received about sex when we were growing up! Let’s not pass that on to our kids as well. Acknowledge the discomfort and press on. It gets easier!

I’ll be honest, I had sex as a teenager. I did. That’s part of my story and it was a source of shame for me for a long time. Mainly because I believed it was wrong to have sex before marriage. But do you see? My morals were not enough to keep me from having sex. Honestly, I don’t know that this is something my parents could have controlled for me. They set healthy boundaries for me. But I made a choice to have sex. It was my choice. As parents, we want desperately to protect them. But we cannot control them.

I’m saying that the best chance we have of protecting them is to have open conversations with them about sex. About why it’s important. About the risks involved. About how to know if they feel safe with someone. About what signs to look for that they’re not ready yet. Because the reality is that they might have sex. Even with all the talking or rules or threats. It might still happen. Because we cannot control teenagers and young adults. But don’t you want to know about it? Don’t you want to be able to check on them and know if they’re ok?

In an ideal world, I would love for my son’s first sexual experience to be on his wedding night. I’d love for him to have the experience of awkward sex with the knowledge that they have their marriage to keep working at it and figuring it out together. The reality is, I don’t get to decide that, he does. Don’t get me wrong, I’m already scheming ways that we can make our house the place everyone wants to come on prom night. I will set boundaries for him and try to help him understand the importance of sex and why God’s desire is for it to happen in the context of marriage: because He loves us and that sets us up for our best chance at safety. But I refuse to shame him when it comes to sex because I see the impact that has on people and on marriages. I want him to see sex as a positive thing, not wrong and bad. I just want him to understand that it is important. It’s a big decision that he should not take lightly. It is not something he should allow himself to be pressured into and certainly should never pressure someone else into.

I would love for his wedding night to be a celebration, not a time for grief, no matter what his story is. And I want that for his bride, too. And so, even now, at four years old, we are beginning the have conversations with him. But that’s a post for another day…

Helping Kids Process Quarantine

“I miss JuJu and Poppaw.”

I could see his big blue eyes brimming with tears and my heart just broke for him. It’s Tuesday. He knows it’s the day that he stays with my in-laws while his dad and I are both working. He’s feeling what we’re all experiencing on some level right now: grief.

Big or small, we have all experienced numerous losses with this quarantine. We’ve lost people, jobs, social interaction, freedom, options, routine, security, and a thousand other things that we’re discovering along the way. Our kids are feeling those losses, too. But they really don’t have the language or the self-awareness to bring it up to us. So, this is how I brought it up for him.

“Oh, buddy, this quarantine has taken a lot away from all of us. What has it taken away from you?” He spent some time naming grandparents and restaurants, playgrounds and friends. My little extrovert is missing his people! As he named those losses, the tears began to flow. Then I asked how he was feeling about those losses. “Sad!”

And we sat with that sadness for a few minutes. He cried and I snuggled him close. I let him cry as much as he needed to because his sadness is right. Just like your sadness is right. This is hard.

Once he stopped crying I said, “You know, this quarantine has given us some things, too! More time together. Daddy’s home more. What about you? What has quarantine given you?” He talked about playing outside more and throwing frisbee with Daddy. He has gotten to play his Yoshi game more. More time for snuggles.

“And how does that feel?”

“That feels happy!”

We talked about how weird it is that the same thing can make us happy and make us sad. Then we talked about all the other feelings we are feeling right now because of quarantine (frustration, anger, disappointment, etc.)

Listen, his mom is a therapist. So he has had lots and lots of practice talking about his feelings, but you don’t have to be a therapist to help your kid process all of this.

Practice on yourself! What are some of the losses you’ve experienced in this crazy season? Can you give yourself a minute to sit with that. Don’t try to fix it or talk yourself out of it. Just feel it. It’s painful. But it will not consume you. What are some of the gains? Can you give yourself a minute to feel that, too? Because most of us have experienced both! And it’s complicated, because often we allow one to overshadow the other, or use one to dismiss the other. A hard season makes it harder to acknowledge the good. A good season makes us feel like we shouldn’t feel bad. But usually, there’s both happening at the same time.

The other complicating factor is comparison. Other people have it so much worse, what do I have to be sad about? Noah isn’t having to figure out how to work from home, pay bills or get groceries. But his four year old heart is missing his people, his routine. And that is valid! Do some people have it harder than him? Yes, but he has the gift of not knowing that. He gets to just feel about what he’s experiencing. What if we allowed ourselves the opportunity to do that too? Regardless of what someone else is experiencing, you are experiencing your hard right now. You’re allowed to feel it.

After you’ve given yourself some space to explore this for yourself, have that conversation with your kids in a way that fits your own voice. Here are the things to keep in mind.

1) Acknowledge the losses. Help them name some of the emotions related to those losses. Talk about what’s challenging. Give them a little space to feel it. If tears come, give them room for tears. If frustration comes, give room for it. Give them a minute to yell if they need to and not get in trouble for it. This does not give them license to be unkind to anyone, but a verbal outlet for their feelings.

2) Don’t rush to fix how they’re feeling. It’s not broken.

3) Acknowledge the gains. What’s been good? What’s been positive? How are you feeling about those things? Give space for that. Because we tend to receive emotions related to good things better than the ones related to hard things, there may not be as much need for outward expression because it feels safe to express happy on an ongoing basis. But it’s still so important to acknowledge it and sit with it for a minute.

4) What’s it like for both to be present? Happy and sad, both together. Talk about that tension. It’s weird. That’s the word I’m hearing most often as people process this. It’s a weird season. We don’t have great ways to talk about things that are both!

5) Let this be the first of many conversations. Check in every few days. “Noticed any other losses or gains?” “How are things feeling this week? What’s the strongest thing you’re feeling? What else is there, too?”

If talking about feelings with kids is a newer experience (as it is to many, many parents), try pulling up a list of feeling words to help you and them find the language. Another great resource is this children’s book. I love it because it talks about a number of different emotions and has great descriptive language for the experience of each one.*

If you are a Christian and want faith to be part of the conversation, you might talk about bringing our grief to God and also our gratitude. We can acknowledge our grief when we’re sad and hurting and He cares for us and comforts us. He also celebrates with us over the things for which we are grateful.

I hope this his helpful. I hope this gives you ideas on how to start a conversation and make it your own to help kids acknowledge all that is happening in their internal worlds. I’d love to hear your ideas as well! Let me know in the comments, here or on social media, how you’re talking with your kids about this weird time in which we’re living.

*Note: I am not affiliated with Amazon or with the author of the linked book.

Dear Body,

Note: To clarify, this post was written several months ago when we were about to start a round of IVF. As I mentioned in a different post, that round was unsuccessful.

We have had a rocky relationship, at best. It started out ok. When I was a little girl, I was pretty unaware of you. I mean, I knew I could run and jump and be tickled. I knew what it felt like to swim in our cold, cold creek and come back up to the house and put warm, dry clothes on. I remember things like watermelon running sticky down my chin. I remember when my parents bought a new car and picked us up from my aunt and uncle’s house. It was late and I was in pj’s and my feet were bare. I remember running them back and forth over the soft upholstery of the car. My attitude toward you was neutral at worst.

I remember when that changed.

I overheard two people who loved me very much talking to one another. “Casey’s getting fat.” I didn’t know. I hadn’t noticed how my body was getting rounder, my lines softer. I could still run and jump and it seemed fine to me. Until then. To this day, when I hear someone refer to themselves or someone else as fat, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. It feels violent that we would talk about our own body or someone else’s that way.

I didn’t know what to do about it, but I knew it wasn’t ok. Not much changed in how I treated you after that, not right away, but how I thought of you shifted tremendously. I was ashamed of you. That makes me so sad now to say that. But it’s true. Not too long after that I started cheerleading. I loved it so much and you were pretty amazing. I remember running back and forth across the yard, teaching myself to do roundoffs, practicing cheers and jumps. Cheering is hard work and I was here for all of it. I wasn’t trying to lose weight, just doing something I loved. But I did. And people noticed. And that felt good. Another overheard conversation: “Casey used to be kinda chubby like, but she’s slimmed down.” Relief.

As kids, we all believe the world is watching. We believe we’re in the spotlight. And overhearing conversations like these, reinforced that belief. Body, I believed you were a topic of conversation, because you were. People were looking at you and forming opinions about you. So, I decided to do whatever I could to keep you in check.

I remember getting weighed in gym class freshman year. We stepped on the scale and the teacher called out the number. I was 101 lbs. That number scared me. I thought I was fat. So, most days I skipped lunch that year.

We were fine, for the most part, until about 10 years ago. I started getting migraines, struggled with feeling nauseous most of the time, and was chronically fatigued. I went to the doctor a number of times, asking for tests. There were no answers. I felt betrayed. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you get it together? I’d been healthy for so much of my life, hadn’t gone to a doctor at all for over a decade. and now this? I went to a practice that took a more “wholistic” approach and they took me off food and put me on supplements. No dairy, gluten, corn, eggs, soy, low carb. You were not ok through that process and the detox. It got worse before it got better. Maybe you needed that. Maybe you did. I was so mad at you. It felt like a betrayal. I realize now you were just trying to tell me that you weren’t ok. I still don’t understand why. What happened?

I was a surprise baby, so I expected pregnancy to come easily. When it didn’t, I blamed you. It’s such a helpless feeling to be trying to get pregnant and not be able to. No one could give us answers. And then it happened. And then the biggest betrayal of all: we lost the baby. I was so mad at you. How could you do that? People get and stay pregnant all the time. Why couldn’t you?? Part of me knows that it’s not your fault. But it’s so much easier to blame you than to let there be mystery.

When we got pregnant again almost immediately, I called a truce with you. I was still angry. But I didn’t want to do anything to mess that pregnancy up, so I was kind to you. You are a wonder. The way you grew and held and protected and nourished that perfect baby boy. I remember exactly what his little feet felt like pressing into my ribs. I remember what it felt like to be kicked in the bladder. Because you carried him. We still don’t really understand why my water broke when it did. He hadn’t dropped, it was two and a half weeks early. Labor progressed so slowly. Over 30 hrs of labor, 2 1/2 hrs of pushing and a c-section later, and he was here. You and I had some things to work through. Why did that end in a c-section? Why couldn’t you deliver him? Breast feeding went ok, but you didn’t produce a ton of milk and he weaned himself at seven months.

I was having back problems after he was delivered and you were in chronic pain. That may have something to do with your struggle to produce milk. Just getting through the day was really hard on you. I had been working 12 hr days, even the day that I went into labor. Maybe it was too much to ask of you. I can be so hard on you, I ask you to carry so much. I think maybe I’ve been unkind to you.

We have put you through a lot the last few years. Five rounds of IUI. You’ve probably given up quarts of blood for all the blood work. You’ve been poked and prodded everywhere imaginable. You’ve been ramped up with hormones and carried the pressure of all of our expectations. You’ve lost three more babies and I’ve expected you to carry the grief of that, all the while blaming you for it. And to add insult to injury, I’ve been so mad at you for not being the size that I’d prefer. When I write all this out, that seems so ludicrous!

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so hard on you and blaming you for so much. You have been so strong. You are healthy. You lift up that beautiful boy and carry him with your strong arms. You are soft when he snuggles in. You are able to run and jump and feel pleasure and let me know when I need a break or I’m pushing myself too hard. You have been so good to me and my family and I’ve been so hard on you.

I have to ask more of you. Tomorrow we start stimulation for IVF. You’re going to get injections and pills every day. I’m going to throw you all out of wack. I’m going to work hard to take care of you through all of this. And I hope so dearly that this leads to a baby. Truly I do. But I won’t blame you if it doesn’t. And this is it. After this, you can have a break. You can do this. I know you can. Because you are a wonder.