Every Friday my syndicated column appears in a bunch of newspapers in southeastern Ontario. Here's this week's!
I’ve heard it said that it is better to build a child than to repair an adult. Yet like many truths, this is easier said than done. What should society do when a parent is obviously tearing a child down?
My quick answer would be that children deserve loving parents who care for them, so I would put them in loving homes. But there are several problems with that. The first is that by allowing Children’s Aid to take children away easily, we could inadvertently remove kids from good homes. After all, deciding what is safe and what is not is not as straightforward as it may seem. Today we become incensed if parents smoke in the same room as a baby, but let’s face it: the majority of my generation grew up in smoky cars and smoky homes. Today it’s illegal to allow your children to ride their bikes without helmets, but all of us did as children. You can’t take a 7-year-old in a car without a car seat, but that’s a new rule. My 16-year-old left her booster seat behind at five.
It’s difficult to define bad parenting solely in terms of specific actions, then, because so much of it is culturally relative. Yet when it comes to protecting children, we all know that some parents are selfish, narcissistic, and abusive. I figure judging abuse and neglect is sort of like the standard for judging obscenity: I’ll know it when I see it. It’s not any one thing; it’s the total picture. And we leave it to judges to make that final call.
My problem is that I don’t believe judges necessarily make the right calls. For instance, did you know that judges can order the government, through Children’s Aid, to provide things like rides to doctor’s appointments, paid summer camp, paid extra curricular activities, and even paid maid service if the house is unsanitary, all so kids can stay with their biological families? Many kids in foster care are sent back home to parents who won’t actually be caring for their kids—you and I still will through our tax dollars.
If a parent can’t figure out how to get their child to a doctor’s appointment, that child shouldn’t be going home. And if a parent won’t scrub the kitchen floor, then the parent shouldn’t have their kids. Why should parents who have already had children removed benefit from free rides, free camp, and free maids, while parents struggling to make ends meet have to play by the rules? It’s ridiculous.
Were I a judge, my first instinct would be to put most kids who are apprehended up for adoption right away. But that’s not good for society, either, because there simply aren’t enough good adoptive homes to take all the children who would fall into care.
All of this would be so much easier if parents started doing their job. So speaking as a parent who truly loves her children, I wish other adults would stop neglecting theirs. If you think getting drunk on the weekend or doing drugs while your kids are around is fine, give your kids up. If you never play with them, never talk to them, and never take them to the doctor, then give your children to someone who loves them. The family is too important a social unit for you to undermine with your actions. And your children are too precious to endure your callousness.
I hope there’s someone superior to me who can sort all these competing interests out, because I sure can’t. And I wish them luck for this heart-wrenching job.
Don't miss a Reality Check! Sign up to receive it FREE in your inbox every week!
I have teenage daughters, and it is always a bit of a balancing act figuring out how to prepare them for possible danger, and how not to make them cynical and suspicious about everything.
Yet there is one area where I think parents are far too lenient when it comes to teen girls, and it's in the area of baby-sitting. We grill our kids up and down when it comes to going to someone's house for a party, but we often will let them baby-sit without really knowing anything about the family.
I was sent a blog post by a reader a while back who is trying to share her story with others in the hope that it can help some, and reading it again made me all the more aware that I need to be much more careful about who my children baby-sit for. I've only ever let them baby-sit for friends, but honestly, how do I know these friends really are safe?
When I baby-sat as a teen I was exposed to way more than I should have been. One mom told me all the details of her husband's affairs, down to specific sexual acts she knew that he had committed (sexual acts I knew nothing about at the time). She saw me more as a confidant. Another family had porn everywhere. You would never have known it to look at them; they were a short, chubby couple that was very prim and proper. And it wasn't Playboy magazines, either; it was pretty hard stuff. I ran away from it as fast as I could, but I certainly saw it. It was under every surface in the house, including the baby's change table.
Here's how my blog reader describes what led up to her eventual sexual abuse at the hands of a man she was baby-sitting for:
It was a Friday night in August 1984. I had put the baby down for the night and around 10pm or so, the door opened and in the husband came to the house. I was surprised that he came home from his trip early and he began to share with me that he never had a trip...he had planned this whole event out and had just come home from a bar to spend the night with me. (I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that...I would soon find out) He asked me to make us something to drink so I went to the kitchen to get 2 cups and some ice. He came into the kitchen and told me that I never gave him anything for his birthday...he turned 29. I asked him what he wanted, he said a kiss would do...I am uncomfortable at this point and not knowing what I should do. I kissed him on the cheek and thought that would be it...it wasn't.
Two things stand out at me from her story. First, she talks about how she knew something was wrong before he actually raped her, but she didn't leave. She obeyed what he told her to do.
This is quite normal; she was a young teen, and he was an adult man. We have to teach our girls that when they feel uncomfortable, they should leave. Give them a cell phone so they can immediately call mom. Lie about a sudden headache if they have to. But if they feel uncomfortable, it's for a reason. They do not have to comply with what an adult says--even a female adult--if it seems somehow wrong.
In this situation, if it had happened in the cell phone era, and she had just said to the adult man, "I'm just going to text my mom and tell her you're home and you want to have a drink with me," it's unlikely anything else would have happened. He would have known that he'd be found out. He would have known he couldn't intimidate her. Cell phones can be big safety nets.
And we can't expect our children to handle these things alone, without us. The problem with young teens is that sometimes they feel something's wrong but they can't explain WHY it's wrong. They're too naive and too confused. So if they get into a conversation with the guy about it, they'll lose. So tell them, "don't talk about it. If you feel uncomfortable, phone to leave and we'll pick you up."
The second thing that struck me is that, after it was obviously dangerous, she still didn't run. She felt so ashamed and so scared she didn't get out of there. Our kids need to know that we will NEVER be angry at them if they take steps to protect themselves. And no matter where they are, they should always ask themselves, "where would I go if I had to get out in a hurry?" I do this naturally now whenever I enter a new store, home, or building. I always plan an escape route. It doesn't scare me anymore; it just has become natural, and I always do it. Teach your girls to do it, too. If you feel uncomfortable, or if you're in danger, know how you're going to get out before it becomes an issue.
We can't protect our kids all the time, and baby-sitting is a good job for teenagers on the whole. But let's remember that we never really know what goes on inside a house. Arm your kids with protection, in the form of cell phones, great advice, and warnings. Let them know they're allowed to say no. And then just pray hard! It's a scary world out there, but we can help make it a little safer!
Every now and then I really tick feminists off, which is funny, because most people who know me think of me as rather a feminist, at least in Christian circles. I like to think of myself more as common sense, personally.
But whether it's my opinions on daycare or that women should at least try to look pretty for their husbands, I tick off lots of people who think I'm trying to keep us in our place. And that's not my point at all.
My goal is to help women live the abundant lives they were created to live, and that means embracing relationship, finding their purpose in Christ, and pressing forward to making this world a better place.
We don't do that by being stupid and making excuses. And let me tell you about the things I say that are often taken as the most offensive. Usually it concerns the idea of modesty: that women don't understand a man's sex drive, which is so closely linked to sight. And when young teens dress in a revealing manner, they are inviting guys to think of them in that way. Those guys aren't thinking: wow, she's pretty! They're thinking, "Wow, she has nice ---- ". Get it?
It was this column that set it off. Since writing it, I've received a ton of emails accusing me of saying that if these girls get raped, it's their fault. Of course I don't believe that! The blame lies solely at the feet of the guy who raped her, and he should be punished to the full extent of the law.
But does it follow that just because the guy SHOULD be punished, and just because it IS the guy's fault, that girls should therefore dress however they want? I don't think so, because it's just plain stupid. And I don't abide by stupidity.
When I was in university twenty years ago, the administration pushed a "No means no" campaign. The emphasis was on insisting that males obtain proper consent before having sex. If the girl was drunk, she couldn't give consent, and it would be considered rape. Everywhere you went on campus were "no means no" posters, with pictures of alcohol.
I always wondered, "why would a girl go to a house where there are a bunch of buys and drink that much in the first place?" Does that mean that it's her fault if she gets drunk? Again, no. But just because it's not your fault doesn't mean it's not dangerous. God won't hold you responsible for what someone else does to you, but that's no reason not to raise our girls to be smart.
We're spending so much time trying to ram it into boys' heads that if they force sex on a girl who is drunk, or high, or hasn't explicitly said yes that it's rape, but we've stopped telling girls that you shouldn't go to a boy's apartment alone, you shouldn't consume alcohol in a guy's place, you shouldn't walk home in the dark alone, you shouldn't accept a ride from someone you barely know (and often even from someone you do know).
Most sexual assaults, after all, happen between two people who already know each other. They're not random strangers grabbing you from behind. And what that says to me is that many sexual assaults could be avoided if the girls acted smarter. Please understand: I'm not saying that if a girl is assaulted it's her fault. But I am saying that perhaps we should teach our daughters some basic common sense things that our mothers knew, but that our generation stopped being taught because it violated feminist principles.
Here, then, is the list of what I am teaching my daughters:
1. Never go near a guy in a parked car. If he wants directions, stand far back and talk loudly. If you think you're being followed by a car, turn around and walk in the opposite direction (ie. towards the car). Don't go near a woman asking directions in a parked car, either. My fellow Canadians will remember Kristen French, who was nabbed by Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka when pretty Karla stopped and leaned out a window with a map to ask her for help. I tell my daughters to be wary of all cars, even those with women.
2. Never consume alcohol. Period. If they want to drink once they're married, I'm fine with that. But it compromises your judgment, and you need that. To other kids who are not my daughters, and who are not so inclined to listen to me, I would say: do not drink outside of your own home/apartment. Never drink unless you are in the presence of at least one other female who is not drinking as much as you are.
3. Don't be alone in a boy's room. Don't let him into your room. If you're engaged, and you're older, keep the door open. Live with roommates and make sure they're around. And if you ever get weird vibes with a guy you're dating, leave.
4. Try as hard as you can not to accept rides from people you don't know very well. Try to make sure there are girls in the car, too. If that's not possible, or if it's a guy you've been dating for a while, don't drive for the sake of driving. Drive because you have somewhere to go and you're expected there at a certain time. Other than that, try to walk. It's cheaper and healthier.
5. Watch what you wear. Give off the impression that you want to be treated with class. Don't give off the impression that you're interested in sex, because that's how people will start to see you. Dress to attract the kind of person you want (though of course we have to remember that many people who rape appear like upstanding citizens).
6. If you walk in the dark, walk with your keys in one hand and your cell phone in the other.
7. Live with other girls. Don't live alone. Always have a roommate.
8. Make sure someone always knows where you're supposed to be, and what time you're supposed to be home.
9. Have a code word you can say to your friend or parent on the phone when you are in trouble.
Will these rules mean that they won't be assaulted? No. Nothing can guarantee anything. But I still think it's better to be wise and overcautious than to be silly and dangerous when it comes to something as serious as sexual assault.
So, to reiterate, if someone attacks you, that is never your fault.
At the same time, though, we should all try as hard as possible to avoid danger. We can never eliminate the risk, but we can reduce it. And if it's possible to reduce it, then isn't that a worthy goal?
None of this should have any bearing on feminism. I know at one point women were blamed for rape based on what they were wearing, because they "asked for it", or based on their profession, or even based on the fact that they were married to the potential rapist (a husband can't rape his wife, after all, so the thought went). All of these things were archaic and evil, and I'm glad they're gone. Rape is rape.
But again, just because the guy should be held morally and legally responsible for rape does not mean that women should just assume they can do whatever they want and thus be safe. The world doesn't work that way. Whether we like it or not, we are the weaker sex. We are vulnerable. It's up to us to be smart and reduce the risk. No, we can't eliminate it. But I'd rather teach my girls at least how to reduce it, instead of saying, "rape is never your fault!", and leaving it at that. I want to prepare them for the real world. Don't you?
There is something magical about movies set in the 1950s and 1960s in the South. It's the juxtaposition of the racial hatred with the beauty and family of life. The big houses with wrap-around porches. The outdoor life and indoor life so completely intertwined, something awfully foreign to us Canadians. Summers with lemonade, bare feet, fishing, and pick up trucks. Life is slow; slow enough to watch birds and play with insects and marvel in creation and just laugh.
And then there are the clothes: the beautiful dresses with the form-fitting tops and the full skirts, so flattering and feminine, and I do so wish they'd come back in style.
And yet there's the ugliness, too. And most movies of those days have to do with overcoming the family ugliness, the secrets, and the hatred, with love; usually the love of someone outside your family.
Last night my girls and I watched The Secret Life of Bees, but you get the same feeling from other movies set in the same time period. The south in the days of the civil rights act provides a lens to view real human emotion that is perhaps easier to understand because things are so--if you'll pardon the pun--black and white. You know the script. You know where the evil lies. And so it doesn't take so long to figure it out and you can get on with the deeper things in the movie.
And yet I don't think it's that the problems were worse then. I think it's that they were more visible then. Human beings are the same, and we battle the same problems. I think it all boils down to this: when people allow themselves to hate other people for no reason (racism), it poisons their souls and it poisons their families. Their relationships that don't even have anything to do with racism are also hurt.
That's why so many themes from literature and movies of the day had to do with domestic violence, and affairs, and family secrets. No one was being open and honest and loving within the family because there was such a dark part of their souls that hated others. And it poisoned everything.
In The Secret Life of Bees, Lily is now 14, living with her abusive father. She has only vague memories of her mother, whom she accidentally killed when she was 4. Her mother was trying to escape her father, and grabbed a gun when her father became violent. But the gun fell, and 4-year-old Lily, trying to give it back to her mother, inadvertently sets it off.
The rest of the movie is all about Lily trying to find forgiveness and love, but most of all trying to figure out who she is. No one is an angel in the movie, except perhaps for May, but I won't tell her story. It's a beautiful one, but if I write it it will seem silly. You really need to watch.
Lily's mother wasn't an angel. She was an abused woman who made very poor choices, and Lily is still trying to come to terms with those, even at the end of the movie. Though she finds a peace, we know it isn't complete. But it is enough for her to embrace life again.
Lily's father certainly isn't an angel, but in the end we develop a bit of sympathy for him, too, for he has lost someone he loved, and we can see that growing up in the culture he did he had no way of adequately dealing with it.
But through the love of a family of black sisters, who each have their idiosyncracies, Lily finds peace.
I enjoyed the movie, and I spent much of it on the verge of tears, because when things are so close to real life, it's hard not cry, even in the happy scenes. It was like that with this movie. And perhaps because it was so real, I didn't just want to watch it; I wanted to touch it, to go back in time and space and make things right.
And yet it is not that we, fifty years in the future, have it all figured out so much more. There is still violence, and hatred, and ignorance, and fear. It may take a different face, but it is still there, and it is often children who bear the brunt of the mistakes that parents make when they are so overcome with these black things that they fail to do the right things.
Lily suffered because her father was angry and her mother was depressed. Neither parent started out that way; but they allowed life and the culture to squeeze out too much of the good that God put in them, and they were carried down a river of bad decisions and they couldn't seem to pull themselves to shore. I think we all have felt that at some point--we have felt ourselves so depressed we can't get out of bed, or so angry we don't know how we can face someone, or so grieved we can't face life.
The answer that the trio of black women found in the movie unfortunately wasn't a good one. It's a long story, but they end up "worshipping" a statue of a black Mary. There's nothing wrong with picturing Mary as black, of course, but to assume that our peace or strength comes from Mary is unbiblical. Our peace and strength come from God, and yet God was barely mentioned, though they referred to Mary as Jesus' mother. I was sorry about that, and should you choose to watch the movie with kids, I would explain this to them as the movie progresses. (You should also not watch with kids under 11 or 12, just because there is a lot of violence, though most is off screen).
Nevertheless, even though their peace is rather heretical, there is an interesting dichotomy set up in the movie. All the beauty--the music, the colours, the natural wonders, the joy--is in those who have made peace with the world. Whether it's the bright pink house or the blue taffetta dress or the bright green diary, they're in stark contrast with the monochrome that characterized Lily's earlier life. When you allow yourself to be consumed with a dark or evil culture, it is hard to see the beauty, and thus hard to participate in creating it.
All of us have pasts that we need to come to terms with. Some are more difficult than others, but we must all find God to help us find peace, lest we get carried down that river, too, and slip further into despair or anger. Yet it is not only that we need forgiveness that we need God; it is also that we need to watch that we do not become so consumed with our culture that we miss true beauty.
Our culture may not have the overt racial hatred that this one did, but we do have such ugliness. We have ugliness in the way we treat sex. We have ugliness in how crass the language is. We have ugliness in the lack of respect people have for themselves and others. We have ugliness in the way that we reject love and commitment and responsibility and instead promote selfishness and a "do what makes me feel good" attitude. And the more we allow ourselves to be swept away by this, the more we will create dysfunction in our own hearts, and in our families, and end up hurting those closest to us.
That's what I'm thinking as I'm writing this tonight, after watching that movie. There is a life of great beauty out there, and we won't see it if we let ourselves be swept away by our culture. So don't. Hang on to the beauty that God has given us. Look for it. Revel in it. Love it. Appreciate it. Others may not see the beauty the way you do, but that is their problem, not yours. I want to live in a more beautiful world, and that will only come when more of us climb out of this river that is rushing us away.
And so I look forward to this summer: of living indoors and out; of a few brief months of bare feet and butterflies and lemonade and camping. And most of all, I want this summer to be a summer of love for my kids, and my husband, and my friends, and my God. Because that's what true beauty is.
About Me: I'm a Christian author of a bunch of books, and a frequent speaker to women's groups and marriage conferences. Best of all, I love homeschooling my daughters, Rebecca and Katie. And I love to knit. Preferably simultaneously.
Stumble It!
