When my daughter was still an infant, my husband and I took her to a local coffee shop for breakfast. At the booth over was an early-30s couple, each with multiple tattoos and piercings and jet-black hair to match their clothes. I wouldn’t have paid much attention to the couple except for the company they kept. Sitting across from them sat a little girl dressed head-to-toe in pink. She was their daughter. In addition to a pretty pink dress and shoes to match, the 6-year-old wore a shimmering headband, which held back a long mane of perfectly combed, blond hair.
As the family stood up to leave, it was impossible not to notice: These two Morrissey types had given birth to a Barbie doll. The mother caught me mid-smile, and smiled back. “All she wears is pink” she told me. “I buy her all these black T-shirts, but she won’t touch any of them.”
After they left, I thought: I love that little family. And now, all these years later, I still do.
There is something I viscerally respond to when parents don’t expect their children to be Mini-Mes, when they let their children’s individuality outweigh our own personal preferences, or even embarrassment. My reaction was the same one I experienced many years later when I read an incredibly sweet and supportive wedding speech written by the father of a lesbian bride.
Embracing every part of our children that makes them different from us is the true test of our unconditional love. We are showing them, in no uncertain terms, that we want to support them on their life journeys — not just drag them behind us on ours.
After my daughter told me, at 5 years old, that “God made us,” I nearly panicked. After pacing the kitchen and explaining the contents of the ill-fated (or so I thought) conversation, my husband uttered 14 words that changed everything for me.
“To me,” he said, “it’s what she does in life that matters — not what she believes.”
It was my “Aha” moment. And in everything I’ve done or said to Maxine since then, this mantra — it’s what you do in life that matters, not what you believe — has propelled me forward in my work, and in my life.
Now that my daughter is almost 7, I understand all too well the plight of the hipsters in the coffee shop. Sometimes I feel the tug of opposition when we’re out shopping and Maxine gravitates toward the bright, almost florescent, prom-style dresses that look like they’ve been bedazzled by Cher.
But I do try very hard to support her choices. Because letting our kid dress like “an Australian’s nightmare,” as Spinal Tap’s long-suffering manager Ian Faith so eloquently put it, is the right thing to do. By allowing our children to choose what they like, we are affirming that their opinions are valid, that their taste is respected. We are telling them it’s better than okay to be who they are; it’s wonderful.
This doesn’t mean, of course, that we need to allow or support every choice they want to make. But let’s do keep our eyes on the goal here: to allow our kids to explore the world and make reasonable choices.