I touched on something in my last post I want to circle back around on, because it deserves a post of its own and a discussion of its own.
My daughter’s reaction upon hearing we’ve never had a woman president.
I guess it just didn’t really occur to me that she had thought about it yet, or noticed. Or hadn’t noticed, as the case may be.
The questions came fast and furious and I didn’t have many answers.
Why hasn’t there been a woman president?
Why aren’t there that many women in Congress?
Why don’t people elect women?
Why did they not give women the right to vote?
Why did it take so long?
Why would they tell women no?
Why would anyone DO THAT MOM?
I did the best I could. I explained to her, as well as I possibly could, why our history was unkind and still can be very unkind to females. I tried to explain the patriarchy. I tried to explain what we face as women.
But I don’t feel I told her everything or anything close to what she needed to know.
The look on her face said it all as we talked. She was shell-shocked. I had shattered her fairy tale. I had shattered the way she thought the world worked.
I had been the one to break the news to her that because she was a girl, her life would be different. Even if every word I said tried to convey that she could do anything, be anything, go anywhere.
I also did my best to empower her. Steel her. Strengthen her and hold her close. I told her of amazing women who fought to make sure we were given equality. So that SHE could vote, run for office, become the first woman president.
Yet I feel, as I told her these stories, I stole a piece of her innocence.
As we hugged and kissed goodnight, and I scrambled for even more words to try to comfort the look of disbelief in her eyes…it was she who comforted me.
Mom, I know I told you I wanted to be a cowgirl, and maybe a Mom, and maybe own a ranch. But I think I’ll be President too. I just want to now…just because.
And I understood, perfectly…just because.