I really didn't want to go here. I really didn't want to get into the whole Chick-Fil-A thing. I really wanted to just join Jen Hatmaker in her wonderful-sounding basement, and wait for this whole thing to blow over.
But I can't. Because I'm tired of all the vitriol and venomous accusations. And I'm particularly tired of one side (pick whichever one you want--both are equally guilty) assigning motives to the actions of the other.
Chick-Fil-A uses some of its profits to support organizations that oppose the legalization of same-sex marriage. Personally, I disagree with the aims of those organizations; given the fact that we do not live in a theocracy (nor do I want to, even as a faithful Christian), I cannot see any legitimate reason to deny same-sex couples that right. The Jim Henson Company also disagrees with the aims of those organizations, and they decided to end their partnership with Chick-Fil-A and donate the proceeds they'd enjoyed from that partnership to GLAAD (Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation).
All of that is fine. Chick-Fil-A can use their profits as they see fit, and so can the Jim Henson Company. And both can choose to partner with whomever they want for whatever reasons they want. Or not to partner. They have that right.
But the owners of Chick-Fil-A have been described as hateful, evil bigots who only want to deny rights to those who don't believe as they do, and are trying to use their money to establish theocratic rule in this country. I don't think that's fair, and it certainly isn't supported by facts.
Yes, they hold to a 'biblical' definition of marriage (though that claim itself is dubious, given the fact that there are many definitions of marriage in the bible, many of which are not considered acceptable in this day and age. But that's a whole other post.) Yes, they support organizations that work to make their accepted definition of marriage the only legal definition of marriage. But that's not all they support.
Let's look first at the partnership with the Jim Henson Company. The Jim Henson Company has never masqueraded as a biblically conservative company. As they proudly stated on their Facebook page, "The Jim Henson Company has celebrated and embraced diversity and inclusiveness for over fifty years." Their commitment to diversity and inclusiveness was not hidden from Chick-Fil-A, yet Chick-Fil-A still chose to enter into a business partnership with them. Yes, they stood to benefit financially, but if they were willing to compromise their principles for the sake of profits, then they'd be open on Sundays, so I dismiss that as their primary motivation. Basically, despite the difference in politics, Chick-Fil-A wanted to be affiliated with the values that the Jim Henson Company stood for. How does that fit in with their image as hateful, evil bigots out to mold the world into their own narrow conservative image?
I also know that they donate a sizable amount of money to the Public Broadcasting Service. How do I know this? Because between the shows my kids watch on PBS they are subjected to a few non-commercial commercials for Chick-Fil-A (as well as Earth's Best Baby Food--since when are there commercials on PBS??!!). If you haven't watched the children's programming on PBS recently, let me assure you that it's not advocating conservative Christian values to the sippy-cup set. Those shows advocate the same diversity, inclusiveness, and tolerance that the Jim Henson Company does. Yet Chick-Fil-A believes enough in their mission to give them lots of money, despite their different politics.
Chick-Fil-A also funds college scholarships, foster homes, summer camp programs, youth leadership programs domestically and abroad, as well as marriage preparation, enrichment, and crisis intervention programs.
I don't agree with everything they choose to do with their profits, but they're clearly not the hate-mongering bigots they're accused of being.
Neither the right nor the left are all good or all evil. Can we please stop assigning motives that make it easier to dehumanize each other? If you don't like how Chick-Fil-A spends their money, they by all means exercise your right to boycott. But don't demonize them, or the people who support them. They don't deserve it, any more than you do.
Showing posts with label Political Correctness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Political Correctness. Show all posts
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Are We Really a Colorblind Society?
My husband has always said that if I ever came home from preaching and announced that my children's sermon went really well, he'd want to know who I was and what I'd done with his wife. I'm horrible at children's sermons. Really. Really. Horrible.
But I came home from preaching this past Sunday, and announced that my children's sermon went really well. As promised, he demanded to know who I was and what I'd done with Karen.
I was using the day's passage from Ephesians as my inspiration: Ephesians 2:11-22, to be exact. It's basically talking about how those who were outside the covenant have been brought in because of Christ, and that all who have been brought together in Christ are now one, with all former hostilities replaced by peace and reconciliation. A nice passage on unity and equality before God.
I called the kids up to the chancel area where they took their usual seats on the step I fell off of a few weeks ago (yes, it was embarrassing), and then I stood facing them. I called the assisting minister over to stand next to me, and I asked the kids to name everything they noticed that was different between Gary and me. They had a bit of an advantage because in deference to the high heat and humidity--and lack of air conditioning--I'd used my pastoral authority to place a temporary ban on albs, so the only 'uniform' in sight was my tabbed clerical blouse. They noticed that I was wearing a black shirt and his was blue, and they noticed that I was a girl and he was a boy. They noticed our different shoes, different hair, and even though we both wore glasses, they noticed that our glasses were different styles (that's some pretty decent observation!).
Next I called our two acolytes to come and stand in front of the kids, and asked them what differences they saw between those two, or between any of the four of us. I was the only girl, the acolytes were younger than me and Gary, they had different hair, and I was the shortest one standing (yes, both acolytes were taller than me). But none of the kids called out the biggest difference between the two acolytes, the whole reason I'd dragged them (without warning them first) into this demonstration.
No one observed that one had black skin and one had white skin.
I finally named that difference once the kids had run out of observations, then asked what all four of us had in common. When they couldn't come up with anything, that's when I launched into my lesson about how we're all beloved children of God and all those differences they'd observed don't matter, and that we're all one family in Christ. Then I prayed a little prayer thanking God for the diversity he'd created, asking for help in seeing everyone as our brothers and sisters, then I sent then back to their seats and went on with my 'real' sermon.
But I was troubled by the fact that no one called out skin color as a difference. Was it that they truly didn't recognize it as a difference? Or was it that none of them dared say it, because such a recognition is politically incorrect and socially unacceptable these days?
As much as there's a part of me that wants to believe the former, I can't quite convince myself of that. In the context of the conversation, there were no value judgments being made. They were observant enough to notice that the frames of Gary's glasses were metal wire, and mine were black plastic. Every other conceivable difference was observed. I just don't believe that the fact that one had the white skin of his northern European ancestors and the other had the black skin of his African birth (yes, he and his family just came to the US about two years ago) escaped those powers of observation.
So that leaves me with the belief that they noticed, but didn't want to say it. And it wasn't just a bunch of white kids not wanting to point out the sole black kid in their midst; one of the things I really like about this church is that it is fairly diverse. On that particular morning both acolytes had younger siblings who had come up for the children's sermon, plus there were a couple of other black kids not related to the acolyte, and a few of Asian and Latino heritage. Caucasian was still the majority, but barely.
Why wouldn't these kids acknowledge racial differences, even in a nonjudgmental, strictly observational way?
I understand that prejudice is taught, and that young children don't respond to racial differences any more than they respond to differences in eye color unless (until) they see others responding differently. But they do notice. One woman in my congregation was telling me about her son--when he was much younger--playing in the sandbox with an African American neighbor. He saw that the boy's skin was much darker than his own, and examined his own feet and legs to see if the sand was turning his skin brown, too. He wasn't concerned; just curious. I also understand that frequently when people talk about racial differences, it isn't in a strictly nonjudgmental, observational way.
But is it a good idea to make the subject entirely taboo?
I have trouble believing that pretending something doesn't exist is the way to honor the diversity God created. Hair, eyes, and skin come in all colors. People have different experiences and cultural traditions, and sometimes skin color plays a part in those experiences and traditions. Pretending those differences don't exist and pretending we're all the same dilutes the richness of this creation, and robs us of the opportunity to better understand one another. Because if we can't ask questions, we're left to make up our own answers, and that can lead to worse prejudices, or at least awkward misunderstandings.
I was never a big fan of Seinfeld, but there was one episode in which Elaine spent the entire show trying to figure out if her new boyfriend was black. It wasn't that she didn't want to date a black guy; she just wanted to know this part of his story. She examined every possible 'clue' she could find, and talked about it with all her friends, with one of them (usually George) looking very uncomfortable and declaring, "I don't think we should be talking about this." The one thing she didn't do was ask her boyfriend. Here's how it ended.
I would like to live in a society in which race doesn't matter, and I think we can get there (though I also think we still have a long way to go). But right now we're living in a society in which we pretend race doesn't exist, and I don't think that's a good idea at all.
I'd be very interested to know your thoughts on this. All opinions are welcome, but as always, please keep it civil.
But I came home from preaching this past Sunday, and announced that my children's sermon went really well. As promised, he demanded to know who I was and what I'd done with Karen.
I was using the day's passage from Ephesians as my inspiration: Ephesians 2:11-22, to be exact. It's basically talking about how those who were outside the covenant have been brought in because of Christ, and that all who have been brought together in Christ are now one, with all former hostilities replaced by peace and reconciliation. A nice passage on unity and equality before God.
I called the kids up to the chancel area where they took their usual seats on the step I fell off of a few weeks ago (yes, it was embarrassing), and then I stood facing them. I called the assisting minister over to stand next to me, and I asked the kids to name everything they noticed that was different between Gary and me. They had a bit of an advantage because in deference to the high heat and humidity--and lack of air conditioning--I'd used my pastoral authority to place a temporary ban on albs, so the only 'uniform' in sight was my tabbed clerical blouse. They noticed that I was wearing a black shirt and his was blue, and they noticed that I was a girl and he was a boy. They noticed our different shoes, different hair, and even though we both wore glasses, they noticed that our glasses were different styles (that's some pretty decent observation!).
Next I called our two acolytes to come and stand in front of the kids, and asked them what differences they saw between those two, or between any of the four of us. I was the only girl, the acolytes were younger than me and Gary, they had different hair, and I was the shortest one standing (yes, both acolytes were taller than me). But none of the kids called out the biggest difference between the two acolytes, the whole reason I'd dragged them (without warning them first) into this demonstration.
No one observed that one had black skin and one had white skin.
I finally named that difference once the kids had run out of observations, then asked what all four of us had in common. When they couldn't come up with anything, that's when I launched into my lesson about how we're all beloved children of God and all those differences they'd observed don't matter, and that we're all one family in Christ. Then I prayed a little prayer thanking God for the diversity he'd created, asking for help in seeing everyone as our brothers and sisters, then I sent then back to their seats and went on with my 'real' sermon.
But I was troubled by the fact that no one called out skin color as a difference. Was it that they truly didn't recognize it as a difference? Or was it that none of them dared say it, because such a recognition is politically incorrect and socially unacceptable these days?
As much as there's a part of me that wants to believe the former, I can't quite convince myself of that. In the context of the conversation, there were no value judgments being made. They were observant enough to notice that the frames of Gary's glasses were metal wire, and mine were black plastic. Every other conceivable difference was observed. I just don't believe that the fact that one had the white skin of his northern European ancestors and the other had the black skin of his African birth (yes, he and his family just came to the US about two years ago) escaped those powers of observation.
So that leaves me with the belief that they noticed, but didn't want to say it. And it wasn't just a bunch of white kids not wanting to point out the sole black kid in their midst; one of the things I really like about this church is that it is fairly diverse. On that particular morning both acolytes had younger siblings who had come up for the children's sermon, plus there were a couple of other black kids not related to the acolyte, and a few of Asian and Latino heritage. Caucasian was still the majority, but barely.
Why wouldn't these kids acknowledge racial differences, even in a nonjudgmental, strictly observational way?
I understand that prejudice is taught, and that young children don't respond to racial differences any more than they respond to differences in eye color unless (until) they see others responding differently. But they do notice. One woman in my congregation was telling me about her son--when he was much younger--playing in the sandbox with an African American neighbor. He saw that the boy's skin was much darker than his own, and examined his own feet and legs to see if the sand was turning his skin brown, too. He wasn't concerned; just curious. I also understand that frequently when people talk about racial differences, it isn't in a strictly nonjudgmental, observational way.
But is it a good idea to make the subject entirely taboo?
I have trouble believing that pretending something doesn't exist is the way to honor the diversity God created. Hair, eyes, and skin come in all colors. People have different experiences and cultural traditions, and sometimes skin color plays a part in those experiences and traditions. Pretending those differences don't exist and pretending we're all the same dilutes the richness of this creation, and robs us of the opportunity to better understand one another. Because if we can't ask questions, we're left to make up our own answers, and that can lead to worse prejudices, or at least awkward misunderstandings.
I was never a big fan of Seinfeld, but there was one episode in which Elaine spent the entire show trying to figure out if her new boyfriend was black. It wasn't that she didn't want to date a black guy; she just wanted to know this part of his story. She examined every possible 'clue' she could find, and talked about it with all her friends, with one of them (usually George) looking very uncomfortable and declaring, "I don't think we should be talking about this." The one thing she didn't do was ask her boyfriend. Here's how it ended.
I would like to live in a society in which race doesn't matter, and I think we can get there (though I also think we still have a long way to go). But right now we're living in a society in which we pretend race doesn't exist, and I don't think that's a good idea at all.
I'd be very interested to know your thoughts on this. All opinions are welcome, but as always, please keep it civil.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Merry Christmas!
Shortly after Thanksgiving, everyone in my house came down sick and stayed that way for several weeks. Needless to say, that delayed our Christmas preparations.
Christmas shopping wasn't a problem; we don't go overboard with presents for our kids so we already had most of them purchased, with a few clicks online finishing up the job. But we haven't been able to decorate until now.
Add to that the fact that we've moved so often over the past few years, and we haven't really decorated for Christmas since 2008. We had a Christmas tree for our son's first Christmas (which, since he was only eight months old, he obviously doesn't remember), but our daughter's never seen one in her own house. This year we decided to put one up, but we discovered over the weekend that our Christmas tree stand got left behind in one of the four moves we've had since we last used it.
Have you ever tried to find a Christmas tree stand the week before Christmas? My husband went to several stores to discover that they were sold out, and called even more only to be told the same thing. When I went out looking, I found more of the same, plus in some cases I had to walk around store employees removing Christmas decorations from the shelves to make room for their next wave of inventory (thankfully they're not yet putting out pink and red heart-shaped objects for Valentine's Day--that'll probably come in about two weeks).
Removing Christmas inventory the week before Christmas? You know the classic song, "The Twelve Days of Christmas?" Those twelve days start on December 25 and continue through January 5, the night before Epiphany. That's the traditional celebration of Christmas, with Advent being the four weeks leading up to Christmas. I realize that the stores have been selling Christmas since before Halloween, but some of us actually try to celebrate Advent, and keep Christmas for Christmas. Even if we hadn't been sick, our decorating would have happened only a few days sooner than it did. So while the stores may be tired of it, some of us are just getting started.
Fortunately the evening was saved by Home Depot. They had a few tree stands left, so I was able to save my husband from having to try to 'build' something to hold up the tree that was dejectedly sitting on our porch. Furthermore, the cashier at Home Depot actually wished me a "Merry Christmas." Not "Happy Holidays," but a real "Merry Christmas." It was so refreshing to hear! And then I also got a "Merry Christmas" from the clerk at the store in the mall that sold me a lighted star tree topper (another item that's hard to come by a week before Christmas).
It's common and even expected for Christians and quasi-Christians to lament about the consumerism of Christmas, how early the stores start selling it, and the decline of the religious meaning of the holiday. We hear so much about how people who aren't religious Christians get offended when wished a "Merry Christmas," insisting instead on "Happy Holidays," which supposedly honors Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Conspicuous Consumption Day, and whatever else people choose to celebrate around the end of December. Now I agree that it's a bit foolish and insensitive for a sales clerk to wish a Merry Christmas to a customer purchasing a menorah, but in the absence of something so obvious, what's wrong with wishing a Merry Christmas to someone who is purchasing Christmas paraphernalia?
Chanukah has always been its own holiday, and should certainly be respected. Kwanzaa was originally created "as an alternative to Christmas," and Conspicuous Consumption Day is clearly a secular hijacking of the religious holiday. As such, I think it's perfectly appropriate to wish a "Merry Christmas" to anyone engaging in celebrating Christmas in any way, even if they've appropriated various aspects of the Christmas celebration for a holiday of their own creation. Does this mean that every purchase between Thanksgiving and Christmas should automatically be met with a "Merry Christmas?" Not necessarily. But anyone buying Christmas decorations (trees, ornaments, yard lights, etc.), Christmas cards (any card that doesn't specifically call out Chanukah or Kwanzaa), a ton of toys, or anything featuring snowmen, Santa Claus, Thomas Kinkade artwork, or old-fashioned people skating or riding in horse-drawn sleighs is fair game.
So to the clerks who wished me a "Merry Christmas" last night--thank you! Please keep up the good work! You might slightly offend someone who wants to celebrate Christmas without acknowledging its origins as a religious holiday, but you also might bring some joy and hope to a Christian who is trying to remember that Christmas is the celebration of God's breaking into human history by sending his Son to achieve salvation for us all. It's amazing how just calling the holiday by its right name can go such a long way towards helping with that.
Christmas shopping wasn't a problem; we don't go overboard with presents for our kids so we already had most of them purchased, with a few clicks online finishing up the job. But we haven't been able to decorate until now.
Add to that the fact that we've moved so often over the past few years, and we haven't really decorated for Christmas since 2008. We had a Christmas tree for our son's first Christmas (which, since he was only eight months old, he obviously doesn't remember), but our daughter's never seen one in her own house. This year we decided to put one up, but we discovered over the weekend that our Christmas tree stand got left behind in one of the four moves we've had since we last used it.
Have you ever tried to find a Christmas tree stand the week before Christmas? My husband went to several stores to discover that they were sold out, and called even more only to be told the same thing. When I went out looking, I found more of the same, plus in some cases I had to walk around store employees removing Christmas decorations from the shelves to make room for their next wave of inventory (thankfully they're not yet putting out pink and red heart-shaped objects for Valentine's Day--that'll probably come in about two weeks).
Removing Christmas inventory the week before Christmas? You know the classic song, "The Twelve Days of Christmas?" Those twelve days start on December 25 and continue through January 5, the night before Epiphany. That's the traditional celebration of Christmas, with Advent being the four weeks leading up to Christmas. I realize that the stores have been selling Christmas since before Halloween, but some of us actually try to celebrate Advent, and keep Christmas for Christmas. Even if we hadn't been sick, our decorating would have happened only a few days sooner than it did. So while the stores may be tired of it, some of us are just getting started.
Fortunately the evening was saved by Home Depot. They had a few tree stands left, so I was able to save my husband from having to try to 'build' something to hold up the tree that was dejectedly sitting on our porch. Furthermore, the cashier at Home Depot actually wished me a "Merry Christmas." Not "Happy Holidays," but a real "Merry Christmas." It was so refreshing to hear! And then I also got a "Merry Christmas" from the clerk at the store in the mall that sold me a lighted star tree topper (another item that's hard to come by a week before Christmas).
It's common and even expected for Christians and quasi-Christians to lament about the consumerism of Christmas, how early the stores start selling it, and the decline of the religious meaning of the holiday. We hear so much about how people who aren't religious Christians get offended when wished a "Merry Christmas," insisting instead on "Happy Holidays," which supposedly honors Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Conspicuous Consumption Day, and whatever else people choose to celebrate around the end of December. Now I agree that it's a bit foolish and insensitive for a sales clerk to wish a Merry Christmas to a customer purchasing a menorah, but in the absence of something so obvious, what's wrong with wishing a Merry Christmas to someone who is purchasing Christmas paraphernalia?
Chanukah has always been its own holiday, and should certainly be respected. Kwanzaa was originally created "as an alternative to Christmas," and Conspicuous Consumption Day is clearly a secular hijacking of the religious holiday. As such, I think it's perfectly appropriate to wish a "Merry Christmas" to anyone engaging in celebrating Christmas in any way, even if they've appropriated various aspects of the Christmas celebration for a holiday of their own creation. Does this mean that every purchase between Thanksgiving and Christmas should automatically be met with a "Merry Christmas?" Not necessarily. But anyone buying Christmas decorations (trees, ornaments, yard lights, etc.), Christmas cards (any card that doesn't specifically call out Chanukah or Kwanzaa), a ton of toys, or anything featuring snowmen, Santa Claus, Thomas Kinkade artwork, or old-fashioned people skating or riding in horse-drawn sleighs is fair game.
So to the clerks who wished me a "Merry Christmas" last night--thank you! Please keep up the good work! You might slightly offend someone who wants to celebrate Christmas without acknowledging its origins as a religious holiday, but you also might bring some joy and hope to a Christian who is trying to remember that Christmas is the celebration of God's breaking into human history by sending his Son to achieve salvation for us all. It's amazing how just calling the holiday by its right name can go such a long way towards helping with that.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Proud to be an Authoritative Parent
Motherhood, like everything else, has its ups and downs. There are days when my kids make me happier than I ever thought I could be, and there are days when I have to fight the temptation to just leave them at the first Safe Haven I can find.
But there is one downside to motherhood that caught me by surprise, and it's probably the aspect of being a mother that I despise more than any other: having to deal with other mothers.
Mothers are the most judgmental, arrogant, and vicious people I've ever met (and that's saying something when you remember I'm a former pastor!). Not all of them are like that, but enough of them are that I'm dreading the day my kids start to make friends, and I'm going to have to start dealing with those friends' mothers.
Most mothers (myself included) are convinced that their method of parenting is the best. That's obvious; why would anyone choose a parenting method they felt was substandard to another method they were aware of? The trouble comes when they encounter a mother who shares that level of conviction, but subscribes to a different method than the first mother. Rather than recognize that different people have different philosophies, mothers tend to view any difference in parenting approach as a judgement on their own method, and, by extension, on their own abilities as a mother. Therefore anyone with a different approach must be exposed as a bad mother before she can expose you as one.
From what I've seen and read, the parenting philosophy most in vogue right now is "attachment parenting." I find not only the philosophy problematic, but the terminology as well. Since I'm not an attachment parent, does that make me a detachment parent? Someone who is actively trying to separate from my very small children, rather than enjoy a close relationship with them? I don't think so. I don't think attachment parenting is necessarily bad; I just don't think it would work for my family, and I don't believe that it's the only way to raise "secure, joyful, empathic children." I don't believe that not following the attachment parenting strategies will harm the connection and trust between me and my children, the way attachment parents claim it will. Can attachment parenting work? I'm sure it can, and I'm not going to condemn anyone for subscribing to that particular philosophy, especially since the social pressures to do so right now are huge. But I don't.
Especially with how I've observed it being used in practice. Attachment parenting is very child-centered, but according to Attachment Parenting International's website, it's not 'permissive' parenting. However, from what I've seen from other moms who appear to subscribe to the attachment parenting philosophy, they very much engage in permissive parenting, and it's become just as much a social norm as attachment parenting. (The fact that Attachment Parenting International felt the need to draw the distinction on their website indicates to me how much the two have become conflated.)
Generally speaking, there are three primary parenting styles: permissive, authoritarian, and authoritative. Permissive parents show lots of love and affection, accept their children as they are, and make very few demands on them. Children of permissive parents are often spoiled with little or no self control, expect to be spoon-fed physically and emotionally throughout their lives, and are less likely to grow into independent, socially successful adults. Authoritarian parents set rules and standards without any flexibility, emphasize obedience, rarely (if ever) show warmth or affection, and feel it's important to exert power over their children. Children of authoritarian parents usually either rebel and escape their homes at a relatively early age (whether they're ready or not), or else remain dependent on their parents throughout their adulthood. Authoritative parents set rules and guidelines that they expect their children to follow, but can be flexible when such flexibility is appropriate. They exercise control over their children without being controlling, and often show love and affection to their children without fear that such expressions will diminish their ability to discipline. Children of authoritative parents usually grow up to be independent, socially successful, and respectful of authority.
I strive to be an authoritative parent.
Attachment parenting, when done exactly as Attachment Parenting International lays it out, is also authoritative. However, as I mentioned before, I've usually seen adherents to the attachment parenting model unable to exercise appropriate discipline and/or set boundaries. Because attachment parenting places such an emphasis on not doing anything to damage the trust and connection between child and parent, many parents fear doing exactly that if they tell a child 'no' and refuse to accept inappropriate behavior. This makes permissive parenting the social norm and expected default.
And woe to anyone who deviates from the norm.
From the perspective of a permissive parent, someone who is using authoritative methods appears to be authoritarian or even abusive. Authoritative parents set clear boundaries and high - but reachable - expectations for their children. Violating those boundaries or not meeting those expectations has consequences. Most of the time it's pretty non-dramatic. For example, my husband and I are very polite in our conversations with each other and with our children. "Please" and "thank you" are regularly spoken by us. My three and a half year old son (and my almost-two year old daughter, for that matter) has been hearing this his whole life. When we ask him to do something we include the 'please' and follow it up with 'thank you.' He knows what's expected. When he wants something and he demands it ("Push me in!"), we ignore him. Most of the time he'll adjust his tone and his words on his own ("Excuse me, Mama?" "Yes?" "Will you push me in, please?" "Of course.") If he doesn't do this on his own, after ignoring a second demand or sitting too long in silence, we'll prompt him ("How do you ask?" "Please." "Please what?" "Will you push me in, please?" "That's better.") It's very simple, and it's pretty non-confrontational. If he wants something, he needs to ask politely, or he doesn't get it. We don't expect as much from our daughter, who is just beginning to use one or two word sentences, but we're still setting high but reachable expectations. ("More!" "How do you ask?" "Please!") More often than not her initial request is "More please!" We started this at different times with our kids, depending on where they were developmentally; we don't expect more from them than they can do, but compared to so many children of the same age whose parents expect nothing from them, we seem harsh and demanding.
Often the expectations and consequences are negotiated between me and my son (my daughter needs to get a little more verbal before she can enjoy this experience). If he puts all his toys away after lunch, I'll read him his favorite story. "But I want to go to the mall playground." "You would rather go to the mall playground than hear your favorite story?" "Yes." "We can do that, but you have to eat your lunch quickly. If you take too long, we won't have time to go. So if you eat your lunch quickly, and put all your toys away quickly, then we can go to the mall playground." "OK!" He's never not eaten and put his toys away quickly enough for me to not take him.
Such interactions require both of us to be calm and rational. While very small children are more capable of this than many parents believe, they are also prone to temper tantrums, which is a clear violation of the established boundaries and expectations of this authoritative parent. Simply put, I don't negotiate with terrorists, especially pint-sized ones who call me 'Mama.' When my kids throw a temper tantrum, not only do they absolutely not get what they want, they are given to the count of five to shut down the tantrum or they go in time-out. Both my son and my daughter do standing time-outs facing the corner (for different lengths of time, accounting for the differences in their ages and temperaments), and have been for quite a while. Once the time-out is over, I tell them why they went in time-out, and how to avoid that in the future. By this time they're more calm and rational, and they understand that the punishment is over now, and they're more willing to interact in an appropriate manner. They still don't get whatever it was they were demanding; that ship sailed once the temper tantrum started. My son rarely has to do a time-out in public anymore, because he's already learned from experience that Mama can find a time-out corner anywhere. He's also pretty philosophical about his time-outs. Once he's in there, the only way out is to be quiet, because he knows the clock doesn't start ticking until the screaming and crying end. My daughter is still learning both these truths, so I'm still faced with the miserable experience of giving her time-outs in public.
My daughter is almost two. I realize that many parents don't even try to discipline children this young, so the fact that I do is shocking and horrifying to them. She is also extremely stubborn (she gets it from both her parents) and has a pretty vile temper. So when she throws a temper tantrum in public, permissive parents who would probably deal with her by hugging her, kissing her, and giving her a sippy of juice and a cookie to calm her down see me instead tell her to "shut it down" and then count to five in my sternest 'Mommy-voice.' If she doesn't shut it down (she has been more often lately, but she still usually doesn't), I then pick her up under the arms, carry her without holding her close (partly because I don't want her to think she's being cuddled and partly because I'm trying to stay out of range of her wildly kicking feet) and plop her down in the nearest boring corner I can find, facing the wall. Permissive parents who can't stand to hear a baby cry see me forcing her to stand in time-out while she's screaming bloody murder. Since their default is to assume every cry or scream is a sign of genuine distress and must be stopped by hugs, kisses, and affirmation, they don't see discipline; they see child abuse.
The way I see it, there are only three possible ways to deal with temper tantrums: appease them, ignore them, or punish them. I will not reward such behavior, even if appeasement usually is the most expedient way of getting them to stop, because it also guarantees many more of the same once the child figures out that throwing a tantrum will get her what she wants. For a while I tried ignoring them, but that's not really an option in public, and at home they can last a very long time if merely ignored. I also want to be consistent, and have the same response at home as I do in public. Punishing them sends the message much more effectively that this behavior is not acceptable and will not be tolerated. I use time-outs because I don't believe in hitting, I don't see much point in a screaming contest, and making her tell it to an empty corner is the best way I can think of to get her to understand that no one wants to hear it. If my kids have a complaint they can tell me about it, using words. My three and a half year old son is not shy about telling me "I don't like that" or "I don't want to." I don't put him in time-out for that. If it's reasonable to change whatever it is to something he does like or is more willing to do, then I change it. If such a change is not reasonable, I tell him something along the lines of "I'm sorry, you don't have to like it, but you do have to do it" and I tell him why. And he accepts that and does it and moves on. He doesn't usually throw temper tantrums to protest something anymore because he knows it's only going to get him put in time-out, and he has a much better chance of changing something if he talks to me about it instead. My daughter is still learning this.
I'm not looking for the approval of other moms. But I don't think it's appropriate to let toddlers call the shots. Personally, I think giving children too many choices or too much control is abusive, because life is stressful, and that's too much responsibility for a two or three year old (or four, or eight, or twelve--you get my point). Some choice and control is appropriate--my son chooses his breakfast every morning: Cheerios or Kashi. He picks out his shirt after I tell him whether he has to pick from the long-sleeve or the short-sleeve side of the drawer, and then he picks from two or three pairs of pants or shorts I've selected that more or less match the shirt he's chosen. My kids have choices that are appropriate to their age, and they're learning that they have some say in the world in which they live, but they don't have total control. Vegetables are a part of supper whether they like them or not, ice cream is a nice surprise every once in a while but never an earned reward, and temper tantrums get you put in time-out. As they get older, they'll learn more of life's lessons, but this is a good start for now.
So if you're a permissive parent who doesn't believe that toddlers are capable of self-control, understand that while that may be true of your toddler, it's not true of mine (though if you've never expected it of your toddler, how would you even know?). Please learn the difference between authoritative parenting and authoritarian parenting (and abusive parenting). Also consider what you're teaching your child about how the world works, and whether or not they're in for a really rude awakening at some point.
And know that when you threaten to call Child Protective Services on a mother who's enforcing a time-out for her almost-two year old in a corner of the mall playground, you're coming across as a judgmental, arrogant, vicious ignoramus who doesn't know how to handle her own children. (Yes, that really happened to me last week, which is why this rant is so long. My apologies to everyone who does recognize that different parents have different philosophies, and thank you for your tolerance.)
But there is one downside to motherhood that caught me by surprise, and it's probably the aspect of being a mother that I despise more than any other: having to deal with other mothers.
Mothers are the most judgmental, arrogant, and vicious people I've ever met (and that's saying something when you remember I'm a former pastor!). Not all of them are like that, but enough of them are that I'm dreading the day my kids start to make friends, and I'm going to have to start dealing with those friends' mothers.
Most mothers (myself included) are convinced that their method of parenting is the best. That's obvious; why would anyone choose a parenting method they felt was substandard to another method they were aware of? The trouble comes when they encounter a mother who shares that level of conviction, but subscribes to a different method than the first mother. Rather than recognize that different people have different philosophies, mothers tend to view any difference in parenting approach as a judgement on their own method, and, by extension, on their own abilities as a mother. Therefore anyone with a different approach must be exposed as a bad mother before she can expose you as one.
From what I've seen and read, the parenting philosophy most in vogue right now is "attachment parenting." I find not only the philosophy problematic, but the terminology as well. Since I'm not an attachment parent, does that make me a detachment parent? Someone who is actively trying to separate from my very small children, rather than enjoy a close relationship with them? I don't think so. I don't think attachment parenting is necessarily bad; I just don't think it would work for my family, and I don't believe that it's the only way to raise "secure, joyful, empathic children." I don't believe that not following the attachment parenting strategies will harm the connection and trust between me and my children, the way attachment parents claim it will. Can attachment parenting work? I'm sure it can, and I'm not going to condemn anyone for subscribing to that particular philosophy, especially since the social pressures to do so right now are huge. But I don't.
Especially with how I've observed it being used in practice. Attachment parenting is very child-centered, but according to Attachment Parenting International's website, it's not 'permissive' parenting. However, from what I've seen from other moms who appear to subscribe to the attachment parenting philosophy, they very much engage in permissive parenting, and it's become just as much a social norm as attachment parenting. (The fact that Attachment Parenting International felt the need to draw the distinction on their website indicates to me how much the two have become conflated.)
Generally speaking, there are three primary parenting styles: permissive, authoritarian, and authoritative. Permissive parents show lots of love and affection, accept their children as they are, and make very few demands on them. Children of permissive parents are often spoiled with little or no self control, expect to be spoon-fed physically and emotionally throughout their lives, and are less likely to grow into independent, socially successful adults. Authoritarian parents set rules and standards without any flexibility, emphasize obedience, rarely (if ever) show warmth or affection, and feel it's important to exert power over their children. Children of authoritarian parents usually either rebel and escape their homes at a relatively early age (whether they're ready or not), or else remain dependent on their parents throughout their adulthood. Authoritative parents set rules and guidelines that they expect their children to follow, but can be flexible when such flexibility is appropriate. They exercise control over their children without being controlling, and often show love and affection to their children without fear that such expressions will diminish their ability to discipline. Children of authoritative parents usually grow up to be independent, socially successful, and respectful of authority.
I strive to be an authoritative parent.
Attachment parenting, when done exactly as Attachment Parenting International lays it out, is also authoritative. However, as I mentioned before, I've usually seen adherents to the attachment parenting model unable to exercise appropriate discipline and/or set boundaries. Because attachment parenting places such an emphasis on not doing anything to damage the trust and connection between child and parent, many parents fear doing exactly that if they tell a child 'no' and refuse to accept inappropriate behavior. This makes permissive parenting the social norm and expected default.
And woe to anyone who deviates from the norm.
From the perspective of a permissive parent, someone who is using authoritative methods appears to be authoritarian or even abusive. Authoritative parents set clear boundaries and high - but reachable - expectations for their children. Violating those boundaries or not meeting those expectations has consequences. Most of the time it's pretty non-dramatic. For example, my husband and I are very polite in our conversations with each other and with our children. "Please" and "thank you" are regularly spoken by us. My three and a half year old son (and my almost-two year old daughter, for that matter) has been hearing this his whole life. When we ask him to do something we include the 'please' and follow it up with 'thank you.' He knows what's expected. When he wants something and he demands it ("Push me in!"), we ignore him. Most of the time he'll adjust his tone and his words on his own ("Excuse me, Mama?" "Yes?" "Will you push me in, please?" "Of course.") If he doesn't do this on his own, after ignoring a second demand or sitting too long in silence, we'll prompt him ("How do you ask?" "Please." "Please what?" "Will you push me in, please?" "That's better.") It's very simple, and it's pretty non-confrontational. If he wants something, he needs to ask politely, or he doesn't get it. We don't expect as much from our daughter, who is just beginning to use one or two word sentences, but we're still setting high but reachable expectations. ("More!" "How do you ask?" "Please!") More often than not her initial request is "More please!" We started this at different times with our kids, depending on where they were developmentally; we don't expect more from them than they can do, but compared to so many children of the same age whose parents expect nothing from them, we seem harsh and demanding.
Often the expectations and consequences are negotiated between me and my son (my daughter needs to get a little more verbal before she can enjoy this experience). If he puts all his toys away after lunch, I'll read him his favorite story. "But I want to go to the mall playground." "You would rather go to the mall playground than hear your favorite story?" "Yes." "We can do that, but you have to eat your lunch quickly. If you take too long, we won't have time to go. So if you eat your lunch quickly, and put all your toys away quickly, then we can go to the mall playground." "OK!" He's never not eaten and put his toys away quickly enough for me to not take him.
Such interactions require both of us to be calm and rational. While very small children are more capable of this than many parents believe, they are also prone to temper tantrums, which is a clear violation of the established boundaries and expectations of this authoritative parent. Simply put, I don't negotiate with terrorists, especially pint-sized ones who call me 'Mama.' When my kids throw a temper tantrum, not only do they absolutely not get what they want, they are given to the count of five to shut down the tantrum or they go in time-out. Both my son and my daughter do standing time-outs facing the corner (for different lengths of time, accounting for the differences in their ages and temperaments), and have been for quite a while. Once the time-out is over, I tell them why they went in time-out, and how to avoid that in the future. By this time they're more calm and rational, and they understand that the punishment is over now, and they're more willing to interact in an appropriate manner. They still don't get whatever it was they were demanding; that ship sailed once the temper tantrum started. My son rarely has to do a time-out in public anymore, because he's already learned from experience that Mama can find a time-out corner anywhere. He's also pretty philosophical about his time-outs. Once he's in there, the only way out is to be quiet, because he knows the clock doesn't start ticking until the screaming and crying end. My daughter is still learning both these truths, so I'm still faced with the miserable experience of giving her time-outs in public.
My daughter is almost two. I realize that many parents don't even try to discipline children this young, so the fact that I do is shocking and horrifying to them. She is also extremely stubborn (she gets it from both her parents) and has a pretty vile temper. So when she throws a temper tantrum in public, permissive parents who would probably deal with her by hugging her, kissing her, and giving her a sippy of juice and a cookie to calm her down see me instead tell her to "shut it down" and then count to five in my sternest 'Mommy-voice.' If she doesn't shut it down (she has been more often lately, but she still usually doesn't), I then pick her up under the arms, carry her without holding her close (partly because I don't want her to think she's being cuddled and partly because I'm trying to stay out of range of her wildly kicking feet) and plop her down in the nearest boring corner I can find, facing the wall. Permissive parents who can't stand to hear a baby cry see me forcing her to stand in time-out while she's screaming bloody murder. Since their default is to assume every cry or scream is a sign of genuine distress and must be stopped by hugs, kisses, and affirmation, they don't see discipline; they see child abuse.
The way I see it, there are only three possible ways to deal with temper tantrums: appease them, ignore them, or punish them. I will not reward such behavior, even if appeasement usually is the most expedient way of getting them to stop, because it also guarantees many more of the same once the child figures out that throwing a tantrum will get her what she wants. For a while I tried ignoring them, but that's not really an option in public, and at home they can last a very long time if merely ignored. I also want to be consistent, and have the same response at home as I do in public. Punishing them sends the message much more effectively that this behavior is not acceptable and will not be tolerated. I use time-outs because I don't believe in hitting, I don't see much point in a screaming contest, and making her tell it to an empty corner is the best way I can think of to get her to understand that no one wants to hear it. If my kids have a complaint they can tell me about it, using words. My three and a half year old son is not shy about telling me "I don't like that" or "I don't want to." I don't put him in time-out for that. If it's reasonable to change whatever it is to something he does like or is more willing to do, then I change it. If such a change is not reasonable, I tell him something along the lines of "I'm sorry, you don't have to like it, but you do have to do it" and I tell him why. And he accepts that and does it and moves on. He doesn't usually throw temper tantrums to protest something anymore because he knows it's only going to get him put in time-out, and he has a much better chance of changing something if he talks to me about it instead. My daughter is still learning this.
I'm not looking for the approval of other moms. But I don't think it's appropriate to let toddlers call the shots. Personally, I think giving children too many choices or too much control is abusive, because life is stressful, and that's too much responsibility for a two or three year old (or four, or eight, or twelve--you get my point). Some choice and control is appropriate--my son chooses his breakfast every morning: Cheerios or Kashi. He picks out his shirt after I tell him whether he has to pick from the long-sleeve or the short-sleeve side of the drawer, and then he picks from two or three pairs of pants or shorts I've selected that more or less match the shirt he's chosen. My kids have choices that are appropriate to their age, and they're learning that they have some say in the world in which they live, but they don't have total control. Vegetables are a part of supper whether they like them or not, ice cream is a nice surprise every once in a while but never an earned reward, and temper tantrums get you put in time-out. As they get older, they'll learn more of life's lessons, but this is a good start for now.
So if you're a permissive parent who doesn't believe that toddlers are capable of self-control, understand that while that may be true of your toddler, it's not true of mine (though if you've never expected it of your toddler, how would you even know?). Please learn the difference between authoritative parenting and authoritarian parenting (and abusive parenting). Also consider what you're teaching your child about how the world works, and whether or not they're in for a really rude awakening at some point.
And know that when you threaten to call Child Protective Services on a mother who's enforcing a time-out for her almost-two year old in a corner of the mall playground, you're coming across as a judgmental, arrogant, vicious ignoramus who doesn't know how to handle her own children. (Yes, that really happened to me last week, which is why this rant is so long. My apologies to everyone who does recognize that different parents have different philosophies, and thank you for your tolerance.)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Too Offensive? Or Too Easily Offended?
I am way behind in my reading. I've got a stack of periodicals that are getting increasingly outdated that I'm working my way through (except for the ones that I eventually throw away without reading, because they're just to irrelevant now).
Right now I'm working my way through the May 17th issue of the Christian Century, which also happens to be the last issue of my subscription. I like the magazine, and I get a lot out of the articles despite the somewhat liberal Calvinist perspective (I'd always thought 'liberal Calvinist' was an oxymoron, but apparently not!), but I simply can't keep up with a biweekly publication right now.
A regular feature of the Christian Century is the section "Living By The Word," in which a guest contributor writes up a reflection on the upcoming two weeks' worth of lectionary readings. Quinn G. Caldwell, who is listed as being the associate minister of Old South Church (UCC) in Boston wrote the reflections in this issue. In his reflection for May 22 he wrote about interfaith dialogue and worship, and he described two ways of going about it. The first way waters down everyone's faith to the lowest common denominator, so that everyone agrees to only say things that everyone else in the room can agree with. The other way, which he identifies as his preferred way, allows and encourages everyone to be unafraid about who they are and what they believe. He writes, "Rather than agreeing not to risk being offensive, we agree not to be easily offended."
I like this approach, and not just for interfaith dialogue. What would happen if, in general, people worked harder at not being offended rather than not being offensive? Your personal faith claim of ultimate truth isn't an attack on mine. My preferred parenting method isn't a critique of yours. Her strong preference for the culture of a coastal city isn't a slam against his strong preference for the community of a midwestern farming town. The way one person chooses to live his or her life isn't a judgment on how someone else chooses to live theirs.
I know that in truth, many people would rather be offended, and expect the world to fully agree with and affirm their choices or preferences. It would be much easier and nicer to live where we never felt like an outsider, or in any way different. And I acknowledge that sometimes people really are being attacked for their differences, and that is wrong. But not everything is an attack or a judgment. Sometimes two people just see things differently, and agreeing to disagree is the only way to fully respect both parties, rather than asking one or both to play down who they are or what they believe. As Caldwell writes in his May 22 reflection, "[T]he great challenge of our day is not to learn to live with watered-down versions of other faiths, but to live with them in all their fullness. What could I possibly learn about Islam from a Muslim who's pretending not to be one?"
I'm sure that every time I speak to someone, either publicly or privately, my words could be interpreted as offensive by someone. Increasingly people who do speak publicly are having to be more and more careful what they say, because someone somewhere is sure to be offended. As a result, we are saying less and less. We are not dialoguing with each other about anything important; we are monologuing at each other about nothing at all. We are not learning from each other, because we're too afraid to say anything. So we're all retreating to our own safe little enclaves of like-minded people and becoming more and more isolated from each other, and entrenched in our own positions and beliefs, and stagnant in our growth as people, and ignorant in our knowledge of the world.
Back in seminary I was asked to lead a devotional for the Wartburg Association of Students. I'd found a poem inspired by a verse from John's Gospel, written about a hundred years ago. The poem used masculine pronouns for God, which was contrary to Wartburg's gender-neutral language policy, but I didn't want to rewrite the poem in the name of political correctness. So before I read the poem I explained the age of the piece, and that it did include these pronouns, and that I hoped everyone would be able to look past that and hear what the poem was saying. As far as I could tell, everyone did, and it was clear that despite the presence of the pronouns that some in the room found offensive, by choosing not to be offended by them they were able to hear the beauty of the sentiment that the poet was trying to express.
We can do it. Something else seminary taught (drilled into) me was this: it's not about you. Next time you hear someone saying something you don't agree with, don't assume it's an attack or a judgment on you. Instead, try to hear what they're saying, and understand what it means for them. Don't demand that everyone else be inoffensive; work a little harder at not being so easily offended yourself.
Right now I'm working my way through the May 17th issue of the Christian Century, which also happens to be the last issue of my subscription. I like the magazine, and I get a lot out of the articles despite the somewhat liberal Calvinist perspective (I'd always thought 'liberal Calvinist' was an oxymoron, but apparently not!), but I simply can't keep up with a biweekly publication right now.
A regular feature of the Christian Century is the section "Living By The Word," in which a guest contributor writes up a reflection on the upcoming two weeks' worth of lectionary readings. Quinn G. Caldwell, who is listed as being the associate minister of Old South Church (UCC) in Boston wrote the reflections in this issue. In his reflection for May 22 he wrote about interfaith dialogue and worship, and he described two ways of going about it. The first way waters down everyone's faith to the lowest common denominator, so that everyone agrees to only say things that everyone else in the room can agree with. The other way, which he identifies as his preferred way, allows and encourages everyone to be unafraid about who they are and what they believe. He writes, "Rather than agreeing not to risk being offensive, we agree not to be easily offended."
I like this approach, and not just for interfaith dialogue. What would happen if, in general, people worked harder at not being offended rather than not being offensive? Your personal faith claim of ultimate truth isn't an attack on mine. My preferred parenting method isn't a critique of yours. Her strong preference for the culture of a coastal city isn't a slam against his strong preference for the community of a midwestern farming town. The way one person chooses to live his or her life isn't a judgment on how someone else chooses to live theirs.
I know that in truth, many people would rather be offended, and expect the world to fully agree with and affirm their choices or preferences. It would be much easier and nicer to live where we never felt like an outsider, or in any way different. And I acknowledge that sometimes people really are being attacked for their differences, and that is wrong. But not everything is an attack or a judgment. Sometimes two people just see things differently, and agreeing to disagree is the only way to fully respect both parties, rather than asking one or both to play down who they are or what they believe. As Caldwell writes in his May 22 reflection, "[T]he great challenge of our day is not to learn to live with watered-down versions of other faiths, but to live with them in all their fullness. What could I possibly learn about Islam from a Muslim who's pretending not to be one?"
I'm sure that every time I speak to someone, either publicly or privately, my words could be interpreted as offensive by someone. Increasingly people who do speak publicly are having to be more and more careful what they say, because someone somewhere is sure to be offended. As a result, we are saying less and less. We are not dialoguing with each other about anything important; we are monologuing at each other about nothing at all. We are not learning from each other, because we're too afraid to say anything. So we're all retreating to our own safe little enclaves of like-minded people and becoming more and more isolated from each other, and entrenched in our own positions and beliefs, and stagnant in our growth as people, and ignorant in our knowledge of the world.
Back in seminary I was asked to lead a devotional for the Wartburg Association of Students. I'd found a poem inspired by a verse from John's Gospel, written about a hundred years ago. The poem used masculine pronouns for God, which was contrary to Wartburg's gender-neutral language policy, but I didn't want to rewrite the poem in the name of political correctness. So before I read the poem I explained the age of the piece, and that it did include these pronouns, and that I hoped everyone would be able to look past that and hear what the poem was saying. As far as I could tell, everyone did, and it was clear that despite the presence of the pronouns that some in the room found offensive, by choosing not to be offended by them they were able to hear the beauty of the sentiment that the poet was trying to express.
We can do it. Something else seminary taught (drilled into) me was this: it's not about you. Next time you hear someone saying something you don't agree with, don't assume it's an attack or a judgment on you. Instead, try to hear what they're saying, and understand what it means for them. Don't demand that everyone else be inoffensive; work a little harder at not being so easily offended yourself.
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