No room for *Jokes*

Before I found out I was having a daughter, I felt overwhelmed at the prospect of raising a child, regardless of gender. With a boy, I worried about the immense responsibility of ensuring I wouldn’t raise the kind of men we see far too often in today’s society. With a girl, I was terrified of my inability to protect her from the vulnerabilities that come with being a girl. One way or another, as a woman, she could become a statistic.

Once I got the confirmation that I was having a daughter, the anxiety hit me even harder. Whether it was my own internalized misogyny or the world’s inherent misogyny, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I didn’t have the answers for how I would nurture, guide, and teach my daughter to be more than I am, more than the world would want her to be.

The reality is that girls face sexualization and misogyny from the moment they are born. It begins with inappropriate comments about their appearance and only worsens as they grow older. Society sexualizes girls far too early, with grown adults often making ‘innocent’ jokes about how beautiful they are, calling them ‘heartbreakers’ or ‘wives’ before they can even walk. These seemingly minor comments contribute to a culture that normalizes the objectification of women. It’s a heavy burden that girls are expected to bear, and it’s terrifying to know that I can’t shield my daughter from every form of this insidious behavior.

The world is such a scary place, and having my own child has only intensified my protective instincts. I’ve already experienced the overwhelming drive to put Hiccup’s life before my own, without hesitation. You never know where harm might come from, but I take comfort in knowing that I am prepared to defend her fiercely. It reminds me of when my own mother, heavily pregnant, fought for me. It was a strange time in my life, but since then, she hasn’t had to bring out those claws or use her teeth. I can’t help but feel like this instinct to protect is something we all carry to some extent. Of course, this thought process has made me question if I’ll ever become overbearing and end up keeping Hiccup in a cage—but that’s what therapy is for.

I never wanted to label myself as a ‘mama bear’ because honestly, I’ve never seen myself as one. (Before my friends call me Ms. Tism—cough cough, Dr. Strange and Tony Stark—I know it’s not literal!) That said, I’ve realized just how vigilant I need to be in protecting my daughter from even the seemingly insignificant things. I grew up in a time when it was normalized for adults to tickle or play with children’s private areas as part of some twisted form of affection. I never found it funny, and that, combined with childhood experiences of assault, contributed to my aversion to being touched. There’s no way I’m allowing anyone to play with my child like that. 

As her mother, I won’t give anyone the chance to make my child uncomfortable, whether in the safety of her home or out in society. I say this because I still can’t shake the visceral disgust I felt when a grown adult jokingly referred to my 5-month-old as their “wife.” It took everything in me to calm down because, well—what the actual fuck? Excuse my French but my baby is just that—a baby. Heinous things happen to babies every day, and while some might argue that this person was just making a joke, the fact is, it’s not a joke if we both aren’t laughing.

I know what’s normalized and what isn’t, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it. If I’m uncomfortable, we’re both going to be uncomfortable. I will remove anyone’s access to my child if they cross boundaries. If that means blocking someone, so be it. And if further action is required, rest assured that I will take it. 

Trust, you will be dealt with. Period.

Protecting our children means being vigilant about the things that seem small or harmless. Casual comments, jokes, or gestures that we might have brushed off in the past can have lasting impacts on our kids. We were once kids after all, we remember some of the experiences we never wish to relive through the lens of our own children. It’s our responsibility to safeguard their innocence, their autonomy, and their right to feel safe in their own skin. Even the things that seem inconsequential can plant seeds of discomfort or unease, and it’s our job to protect our children from that, no matter how minor it might seem to others.