When innocent words aren’t so innocent, parents offer a teachable moment
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A Sunday night. Three boys ages eight and under wrestling with one another as their father prepares dinner on the grill off our kitchen and I fold the never-ending pile of laundry on the dining room table. It’s a very typical Sunday night–and I pause to relish a pattern we are seeing more and more frequently. I call it “extreme bonding.” We’re not sure why it happens–perhaps it’s the boys having been together for two whole days, maybe it’s Monday morning looming; but every Sunday night all three boys play and play happily and hard with one another.
That is, until something happens. Usually it’s a perceived transgression of sorts; and last Sunday it was my middle son’s. I still don’t know precisely what it was that he did during the course of their spirited romp, but my oldest extricated himself, dusted off, and bellowed at his brother, “That was so gay!
I was just a foot-and-a-half away, watching my sons and doing what mothers of three boys often do during these roughhousing sessions, holding my breath–as though depriving myself of oxygen would magically keep everyone safe–when my deeply sensitive, fiercely intelligent eight-year-old son uttered a series of words that took away what little breath I had remaining.
This was not the first time, of course, my oldest son had uttered something with which I was less than thrilled. There have been plenty of instances. But this was different. These words weren’t merely sassy or mildly off-color; and they required not a quick reprimand but a detailed, heartfelt explanation–an explanation without judgment and, because it was for him, one that was logical.
I told my son to go upstairs. His wide brown eyes took in my pained expression, and he asked the question children are compelled to ask when parents send them upstairs: “Am I in trouble?”
I told him he was not but that I wanted to talk with him and we needed a quiet place to do so.
As I ascended the stairs I thought about what I wanted to say, wishing on some level that I had rehearsed this a bit in my mind before this moment but trusting that together we would find our way through his words, words he couldn’t even begin to contemplate the significance of.
I knew it would not suffice to simply say to my son, “Using that expression to describe your dislike of something is not acceptable and we expect never to hear it again.” I had to explain why it wasn’t acceptable. And to do that, there was a lot of other territory we needed to negotiate.
And so we did.
I talked. He listened. He asked questions. I answered them. And we cried. We cried for people we know and love and those we have never met who have had to suffer for being themselves and for loving those they love. And we cried for human nature’s propensity to take that which it doesn’t understand and turn it in to hateful, hurtful language.
My eight-year-old then looked down at his knees and shook his head and asked me how I know so much.
I cupped his chin in my hand and turned his eyes to mine and told him earnestly, “There is so much more I wish I knew. But I promise you I’m doing the best I can.”
And with that we just sat. I knew we needed to sink into this moment and let the magnitude of it sink into us.
I can say with as much conviction as anyone can muster that my son will never use those words in that context ever again.
And it will be a choice he makes because he understands why.
Original post appeared on My Three Sons
Photo: WSilver/Flickr
excuse me, everyone. I’m going to be offensive for a moment, to prove a point. Richard. You’re full of shit. It’s a parent’s job to teach kids not to say inappropriate or hurtful words. You know, like how I just said you’re full of shit, or how not to go around calling people mother fuckers, niggers, zipperheads, crackers, honkeys…shall I go on? All things that used to mean something else. Or how about “that’s so white”, what if he said that instead? Do you get it now? The parent taught the child that the word wasn’t nice to use in… Read more »
Dan, I was referring to Silent Night so as to not have to refer to that ….um, other carol. You know. The one with the mmmphsomething apparel. We are to don. Making an example. Talked to a high school music director about Christmas programs, and that…other carol was a head-scratcher. But it was overshadowed by the need to be seasonal instead of religious, so that year, his secular piece was “Kung Fu Fighting”. Your comment about other words isn’t quite on target with the exception, possibly, of “retarded”. The latter might be said to have at least a semi-organiized set… Read more »
How about this? Don’t say ANY word in an ugly, hateful way or if you know for sure it will hurt someone, no matter the reason. Even if they don’t manage to do the same. Just smile and move on.
Hi Richard, Yes, I’ve read it as part of my degree that, in part, charts the evolution of the English language. I’m not sure about the reference to Silent Night you make, but I can give you several examples of other words that once meant perfectly pleasant things, then became used a colloquial factual descriptor, then became derogatory terms we don’t except. Retarded is one – it used to mean (and occasionally still does) something that was slow or stunted in, often, growth. Then it became a descriptor for those with extra educational needs, and now we don’t accept people… Read more »
I’m going to start saying “that’s so Richard Aubrey, GMP commenter” when talking about something I don’t like. It’s not Richard Aubrey, GMP commenter phobic. Why can’t you just let me use your name and the fact that you comment here as an insult?
I’m not insulting you. I’m just associating your name and comments with things I don’t like.
Wonderful article, truly. And thank you for taking the time to teach your son. You are an inspiration.
Please excuse all abmo
Abnormalities in my typing,
But Samantha,
Richard, First off language changes, it’s one of the many wonderful things about it. People have not said gay to mean merry in any volume for at least 25 years. To be honest if have to go back and do serious research to discover whether gay people actually took the word gay or whether it was forces upon them. GRID would make me think it wasn’t entirely just us. But in this instance, let me point something out here. The use of gay to mean rubbish in this context is actually an example of a certain sh1t minority of straight… Read more »
This. Any word can become a slur if used as one.
Michael.
I was discussing the appropriation of a word. Up until the gay community appropriated it, it meant something different.
The Accredited Victim Groups get to appropriate words and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. That’s the first lesson.
Can you provide a source for this? It’s at odds with my own understanding of the etymology.
if you wish to use the term gay to mean happy and carefree, go right ahead, i doubt anyone will mind, but don’t use it to denigrate people
The first and longest lasting lesson is that certain groups get to appropriate words. They make rules about how you can use the words. You can get into trouble if you object to the appropriation or if you don’t keep up with the rules. And there’s nothing you can do about it.
Tell you what: Give us full legal and social equality, and you can use all the homophobic slurs you want. Deal?
God forbid anyone tread on your right to denigrate a disenfranchised minority.