Hey Mom, What Does “Die Feminist Gamer” Mean?

My 9-year old daughter can jump in and out of a first person shooter game and then quickly morph back into a bunny to go to someone’s “den” for a bunny dance party.

She’s a gamer. A girl gamer. And right now, that is a dangerous thing.

So dangerous, in fact, some women have received death threats, their public info blasted all over communities so they can be harassed, and if that weren’t enough we hear about Anita Sarkeesian. Sarkeesian was slated to speak at Utah State University until they got an email threatening a mass shooting if she dared open her girl mouth on stage. Sarkeesian, refusing to cave to their threats,  said she would STILL get on stage and give her lecture, provided there were some security checks.

Seems totally reasonable to me.

BUT (there’s always a ‘but’) school officials weren’t all that into being TSA at the doors. I’m not sure why, considering the Salt Lake Tribune reported the emailed threat claimed it would be “the deadliest school shooting in American history.”

WOW. Ok then.

According to the LA Times, “During the discussion, Sarkeesian asked if weapons will be permitted at the speaking venue. Sarkeesian was informed that, in accordance with the State of Utah law regarding the carrying of firearms, if a person has a valid concealed firearm permit and is carrying a weapon, they are permitted to have it at the venue.”

Yeah, I think I’d go ahead and sit this one out too.

As many of you know I’ve given lectures and sat on panels regarding the death threats my family and I received via online trolls. Threats that garnered zero attention until the trolls went after my kids and their school. Then, suddenly, the cops & Twitter cared. Well, that’s not entirely true. Twitter didn’t cooperate with law enforcement until an emergency order was issued by the judge. Then they cared. The detective assigned to the case, the first “cyber” case for him…he cared. He cared because he understood, at the time, this was only going to get worse and these cases would become much more frequent in my town and in yours.

My point? Each time I’ve had a speaking engagement post-threat, the venue and organizers have been more than willing to offer security. Sarkeesian can only stand up for herself so much, showing the world she won’t back down, without downright being stupid and taking a huge risk on her life and the lives of everyone in that auditorium.

Currently the online scene is as I would expect. People are picking sides, blaming each other, and women online and in tech (yes, that includes gaming) continue to endure what can be career ending torture by a minority of douchecanoes who seem to think themselves superior. These trolls are threatened by anyone with a vagina that dare tell them or even ask politely they consider some games have a female character and maybe, just possibly a female character that doesn’t resemble a whore. Apparently that’s waaaaaaay too much to ask of *some* of this demo without causing an uproar. There is also the fight over this being about journalism (I’m using a lower case j on purpose…because please don’t get this traditional news reporter started on citizen journalism, real Journalism and reviews, pay-for-play,  and blah blah blah …see, I said don’t get me started) and not being about feminism. THAT has *some* in this demo screaming at the top of their lungs to be heard over the rustle of headlines simply stating a feminist received death threats.  As with everything there is a long backstory. As with many backstories it is filled with truth, lies, and lots in the middle.

What I have seen, personally, by simply tweeting about the issue (and using the all important #) is ugly. And the word FEMINISM really pisses off a lot of people. Let’s not kid ourselves there are idiots on both sides.  In fact, I was told repeatedly via social media last night my “agenda” needs to stay the fuck out of “their” games.

I love how they think these are “their” games…so cute.

I was also told I was a horrible mother, saw some really nasty rape memes…you get the idea. All I asked for was an end to the escalation. You see, these movements have become the next game for many of these men and women. Their next quest.

There is even a self-proclaimed Democrat woman who calls herself the ‘Factual Feminist,’ lending her credibility to a movement aimed partially at challenging journalists & Journalists (of which I have been both) and partially ( I THINK?) to poo-pooing the idea that …wait for it… women and girls play games and can be hard core gamers and…no really, wait for it…..wait for it….. wait for it………..there is NO PATRIARCHAL PROBLEM in gaming.

Imagine my spit-take on that one. If it helps, I have tea. 

I swear to CHEEBUS that’s what she said. Yes, Dr. Factual Feminist spent a few weeks (weeks people! WHOLE WEEKS!) checking out the gamers and she’s concluded there’s no issue here, you silly little girls. It’s all in your head, which is where she virtually pats us, tells us to calm our shit down, and ignores what has been decades of a certain “culture” she can’t seem to find with any male gamers online.

Deadspin has a great rundown of everything that includes the video of this so-called feminist. My absolute favorite part is where she says “They want the male video game culture to die

WOW. I totally missed the memo on this one.  Did you all have a meeting without me? Hilariously and somewhat dangerously, she then strokes their egos and talks about what a smart little subculture they are.

ooooh what a smart widdle subculture you are….do you do twicks you cootie patatootie widdddle subculture… now roll over, roll over… goooood boy!

Well, yes. We did have an inkling of THIS side of gaming too!

Our life- caught perfectly by @undomesticdiva

Feel free to steady yourselves before you get the vapors and need to sit a spell on the fainting couch.

Did you all think we women just randomly hung out with neanderthals all day and let our daughters do the same while we game? I don’t think the argument here is “all male gamers suck and want to hurt me”…unless my son and husband are secretly plotting. The argument, Professor, is within that smart subculture is a STUPID, NASTY subculture (and I’m being generous by calling it a subculture, it can at times BE THE CULTURE) with some bad apples. Every subculture, culture and otherwise has this issue- and to “stand down” as you suggest is to accept this behavior. In the words of my daughter, “Mom can I say a bad word? … That’s really stupid.”

Back to the kids…since I mentioned my gamer daughter. I briefly and somewhat vaguely told the kids what had gone down on the internet all night, while they slept all snuggled and cuddly,  and then proceeded to bust out the phone while they reacted…and we packed for school:

Yeah, you heard me right…my son knows a whole lot more about gamer culture than his sister due to their ages, what we allow, and my husband’s constant vigil gaming WITH my son so when things come up they can discuss the matter. Same thing with my daughter, just two years younger- and it’s reflected in the video above. I mean, did anyone tell the good Professor about tea bagging as she did her research?

Now, there are some serious accusations levied in this war of #GamerGate vs #StopGamerGate2014- even to go so far as deciding if women count as gamers, you know, the real kind…not the kind that play Angry Birds or Bejeweled. Because heaven forbid we add in THOSE numbers. If we do that *some* male gamers get really upset. Like, stomp their feet and whine and moan like toddlers upset. Like…hurl death threats at women upset.

Now, why did I say “if we add in those numbers,” you ask? Because it seems all of this only becomes a problem when there is a threat to their special hold on their special place in their special world where only they are allowed to be king of their gaming castle.

Sort of like what we’re watching the GOP do right now: trying really hard to stay relevant to the LGBTQ community and women and people of color, yet instead looking like total asses and eventually saying or doing something so very stupid no one in their right mind would want to play in their sandbox. Like I said, death threats. Or when people post about these threats, answering with those super triggering (thnx ever so much!) gifs about raping girl gamers all while complaining and mansplaining we can’t take a joke.

I honestly hope we can move forward in this mess with a coalition of feminists (men gamers, that includes you…in fact it DEMANDS you) standing UP to the systemic and overt creeps in the culture TOGETHER and without hesitation. I could give a rat’s ass which hashtag they fall under or what their criteria for “hard core gaming community” entails. Both sides need leaders that are loud, bold, strong, and the hero they attempt to play daily on their screens. Except without the legendary weapon.

If this fails, and these ridiculous and entirely unacceptable threats and violations continue, at least I know that my home is not oddity or behavioral study.

We have digital kids. You may have heard of them. They are growing up a bit different than we did. iPads before they can walk kinda thing. They read their books for school on these devices and they have their playdates on their consoles. My son was up Friday night, or Saturday (or was it both?) with his best friend who lives several states away, dropping in on public events in Destiny. All while my daughter made a video jamming out to Lorde with her Animal Jam friends.

As you see above, they aren’t buying any of your excuses. I have full faith they will fix the misogyny and insecurity and yes, patriarchy, prevalent in gaming…because let’s face it, they already care more than most of you and are willing to stand up while others are patting them on the head, insisting they stand down.

 

 

(photo credit: Megan Hook Photography)

*you all might be interested in this ESA study, claiming “women age 18 or older represent a significantly greater portion of the game-playing population (36%) than boys age 18 or younger (17%)” FYI it’s a pdf. (update added Oct. 16, 2014)

Wave of Emotion

It’s been a rough time around here lately.

I’m still grappling with the death of my Aunt and then the death of my grandfather. Two events that just won’t leave my mind for a second.

IMG_0970.JPG

Because I spent a lot of time in Michigan this past summer, I’ve even found myself calculating my disability checks and bills and wondering if Aaron could or even would quit his job and move the kids and I back there.

Of course it’s an insane thought. But it doesn’t stop me from looking at real estate on Lake Huron.

The kids and I have started back up at school again and while I crammed in treatment and they adjusted to their new classes, my husband had surgery (for the second time) getting a brand new toe, making it pretty impossible for him to get around.

Then the kids both sucked in all the new school germs and contracted pneumonia and I received terrifying news regarding another family member (but at least this time it’s not looking too bad now…thank goodness). All of this while I work to take care of my three loves, keep up with my own classes, and try and keep the house somewhat in order while trying very hard not to break down and run to the water.

It’s what I do.

From the minute I got my driver’s license I would head down Lakeshore Dr. in Grosse Pointe to just think. I would drive all the way downtown and find a spot under the Ambassador bridge, park, and just look out a the Detroit River. It brought me peace.

When I lived in Dublin I found a bus that would take me up to these coastal, Irish cities. The waves would crash into the rocks and the local would get me drunk on Guinness and everything was ok…because I could see the sea and breathe.

When I moved to Florida I would drive to the coast in-between every shift at work, and after every bad date, or bad memory, or when I just needed to work things out in my head…I even found the one topless beach where I could find a secluded area, sunbathe, and inhale the sea air while I listened to waves, lulling me into knowing everything would be ok.

And then came my home, California. Nothing compares to the relief that washes over me when we finally hit that stretch of the 101 where ocean is visible. It’s as if it puts me back together after falling apart. Somehow making me whole.

There are just so many things I can’t work out right now…from trying to do what the therapist said and concentrating on ‘my’ life to mourning for people and a past that will never be the same.

And I don’t have the freedom to just take off and stare at the Pacific what with LA traffic and all of the above. So instead I bury my head in books and try my best to smile when really I’m hiding in the bathroom daily to let the tears flow.

There are so many things I just want to put back the way they were. So many. And not a single one of them are under my control or even slightly up to me. The more time I spend on myself, as recommended, the less connected I feel to everyone I love. I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work.

Yes, my illness seemed to put all of this in motion. So being ME I blame myself. Which is just about as nuts as convincing Aaron to move to Michigan on my disability checks. But emotions make you do nutty things.

So in lieu of running away to the water, I move on to plan B…the other thing I do. I plan. Oh boy do I plan. In fact, I plan to the point of lists and charts and budgets and speeches.

Right now my plan has added a second major to my never-ending quest to finish my degree. Now I’m Journalism and Political Science, Pre-law. The plan being when my body can finally find its way to remission I’ll use my skills to add that extra step to my resume making me unstoppable and ready for world domination.

It will either help with those things I can’t control, or put me in a position to make the landing softer. Because of course I think it’s all my fault and if I can just pay off the house, pay off our debt, buy my parents a house…everything will be just fine.

Why does it always come down to money? Money shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t.

I don’t want money to matter. But it does.

I just want everyone around me to be happy. I want them fulfilled and doing what they love and to feel love and be in love and surrounded by love. But I can’t control that…no matter how much I support or give or push. I can’t fix it, I can’t fix others. I can only fix me.

Which usually means staring out into the sea, taking a deep breath, and hoping beyond hope there is light in the darkness and hope in that glorious horizon where the colors blend and bend and the water and sky touch.

Where you can hear the waves in constant motion, yet so rhythmic and soothing.

For my 40th birthday we’re going to Hawaii. I want nothing more than to just feel whole surrounded by the ocean. To put pieces of my life back together. To make things as they should be. Because I’m 40 dammit, and by 40 my life SHOULD be what I want it to be- not what anyone expects it to be or thinks it should be…but what I want.

And what I want, more than anything, if to feel love with sand in my toes and peace given to me from the only element on earth that seems to affect my mood and quiets all the voices in my head.

Maybe it’s because I’m always seemingly panicked or anxiety ridden and rushing around as if the world is on fire…and only water can douse the flames.

 

Whores & Studs Before They Are Teens

There’s a lot of talk about sexualizing girls way too early.

Many of us have written posts on the topic. Many of us have discussed it over Facebook and twitter. You know, when you are bra shopping for your tween and all you can find are padded, sexy bras. or how some girls are wearing make-up in the 2nd grade. Or how some parents allow their 10-year old to wear short-shorts and thigh-high boots.

Inevitably we talk and talk and blame our culture and society for exposing young girls to the idea they must appeal to men always and even, at very young ages, encourage them to have a boy crush or to smile for the nice men or, in some extreme cases, encourage them to be nothing but wives and trophies for the males of the world.

And while many of us talk to our children about these things, one headline made me realize far too many of us are forgetting the message we are constantly sending our boys:

Young Fan Plays Casanova at Fenway

Yup. That’s the headline you get if you go to share via Bleacher Report the touching story of the awesome 12-year old who gave up a foul ball that came his way during a Red Sox game to the girl behind him. The piece by Ken Chin even ends with “Slick move, kid, you’ve got a bright future.”

But it doesn’t end there. Over at Fanside, Mike Dyce writes, “There is one young Boston Red Sox fan who is showing himself to be quite the stud.” Yup, a 12-year old was just called a stud. Imagine calling a 12-year old girl the equivalent.

I’ll let that sink in… 

On NBC’s HardballTalk we get the headline “Smooth Kid ” and Craig Calcaterra’s commentary, “Everyone’s gonna say stuff like ‘this kid is going to do well with the ladies one day’ after watching this video. But he’s doing pretty well already.”  I encourage you to keep reading for the cougar reference just after. I wish I were kidding.

Sigh.

So as we are using something as simple as a kind gesture to insinuate a child is hitting on another child-not to mention totally cheering on the idea.

But of course with a “wink wink hubba bubba” thrown in because the writers all realize these are kids we’re talking about. But isn’t it just so darn cute?

And that is exactly the problem. The cutesy nudges do not excuse the underlying issues. Just like teasing preschoolers if they have a “boyfriend” or a little “girlfriend” at school encourages the idea they should be on the prowl.

While I almost don’t blame these writers and editors for going for the obvious cutesy jokes, I also wish they would stop and think about how they contribute to the problem.

I’m no prude. I’m not some uptight Mom, holding her babies tight and refusing to allow them to grow up. (ok, maybe a little but not unlike ANY mother) My son is just about that boy’s age. My daughter, just about that girl’s age. I can’t you how many times we’re with friends or relatives or whomever and the minute a boy child stands anywhere near a girl child and they actually play there is an outburst of “awwwwwwwww, maybe they will grow up and get married one day!” All while the Moms of the group start plotting out where they will register the two and which holidays they will spend with which set of in-laws.

I have been so caught up in all of the ways society has been trying to turn my little girl into a little whore, that I’ve entirely overlooked society’s role in prepping my son to step into his role – so much so that I am recalling how just the other night my husband and I were gently teasing my son over a girl (and her family) that we really like at school and how we’ve arranged their marriage.

Guilty and I didn’t even realize it. Just like all these headlines and all these wisecracks.

If we’re going to demand our daughters are allowed to remain children and NOT be sexualized at such young ages, we must demand the same for our sons.

I commend 12-year old Ryan for being a good kid. Way to go Ryan…but dude, no pressure. You were simply doing what everyone should do- be kind, share, and think of others. Way to go.

Ferguson

I, like many, have been struggling with the events in Ferguson, MO.

It’s hard to get the words out, and nothing seems right. So I’m going to first do what is most important right now: LISTEN TO PEOPLE OF COLOR and HEAR their experiences. These are women I know, love, and respect. I think their words really say it all and then some.

Sunset in Ventura

“…it is hunting season for our children and truly it always has been. The world has no love for dark people… Black people. And no matter what I say the truth shows up everyday.”- Babz Rawls Ivy

Kelly Wickham brings our attention to Fannie Lou Hamer. Why? Because Hamer said,
“Is this America, the land of the free and the home of the brave, where our lives be threatened daily, because we want to live as decent human beings?”

Jasmine Banks makes sure that everyone who is “tired” keeps talking and listening…why? Read just a snippet of her status update and then go read more,

When Isaiah came home from Pre-K at only 4 years of age and told me he hated being brown because the little boy he wanted to be friends didn’t like brown people. 

Addison crying because she hates Princess Tiana because she is a frog and not a real pretty Disney Princess.

The lady who looked shocked and asked me if Tobias was adopted because he was light and ‘you kind of look black, but why does he not look black at all?’

How about we talk about how I try to maintain normal life in my very small, very white town? How do I look some of these folks in the eye when I quietly observe their racist and hateful status updates on my newsfeed. ‘Those people are just thugs’ ‘So what if he didn’t have a gun, Black people don’t need to have guns to be dangerous, we proved that with Trayvon.’

You eat our food, listen to our music, and even laugh at the cultural references in our movies. You love the way the feel good storyline of The Help made you feel… you love our stories, as long as they don’t require you to look in the mirror too long, and face the fact that you’ve cherry-picked from our culture the comfortable beautiful parts while we still get to carry the burden of being Black. Still cultural mules to your cultural illiteracy.”

And then Briya, aka Undercovermamma had me sobbing with this,

Last night I called my baby boy just to check in on him. With everything that’s going on, I had an overwhelming urge to hear his voice and make sure that he was okay…and that he knew that I loved him. 
His response was to tell me that I was just being a mom. 
And I said yes. Yes I am. And I reserve the right to be worried because the entire world has gone crazy.

This morning he called me and because I was in meeting I missed his call.
He called Nesto to get my work number and I guess they talked about how upset I’ve been about Ferguson
And how personally I’m taking it because this could happen to him. Or to Nesto. Or to any of the black men in my family.
And then he called me back to reassure me that he was okay, and not to worry.

But I do. Because I love him. Because he matters”

I’m not going to stop talking about Ferguson because it makes many of you uncomfortable. It’s well beyond time we leave our comfort zone in this racial discussion.

 

 

 

Summer Boredom Hits….

My daughter hasn’t gotten out of her owl PJ’s since Monday.

My son hasn’t brushed his hair since Tuesday.

My Goddaughter has binge watched three shows on Netflix.

Yup, we’ve hit that part of summer where it’s not quite time to go back to school, but everyone is a bit bored. I’m in treatment, leaving them at home and me hooked to an IV.

So I’m devising a plan to get everyone OUT of the house and active lest the first day of school arrives and everyone begins to whine that we did nothing and went nowhere.

First of all, if they say we did nothing and went nowhere…they are big ‘ol liars. We were in Michigan for the start of the summer, where the kids took a side trip to West Virginia. The girls and I went up north to San Jose…and…ummm…we’ve done a ton of swimming in the pool.

Ok so the cross country trips were family oriented because of illnesses and very sad goodbyes, not exactly ‘vacations’… in fact the Michigan trip was such a blur to me and filled with so much emotion I don’t remember a lot of it unless reminded. It was hard. Certainly not a vacation, even if the kids were mostly shielded from it all and had some fun.

The San Jose trip was fun, but there were several incidents along the way (allergic reactions, car sickness, and my grandfather passing away) that pretty much shot that as a ‘real’ vacation as well.

So I’m putting in media requests for Disneyland and Universal Studios – and we’re looking at a trip to the Santa Barbara Zoo. ANYTHING to make it seem like we’ve had a ‘vacation’ this summer. I have some points I might be able to use for a hotel. Maybe we can find a suite, bring the dog, and hit the beach and everything. Who knows.

Kids in pjs

And these kids really need to get the heck out of their PJs.

Wish me luck. BTW I wish beaches rented scooters and they were all lined with cabanas. Adding my illness to the mix makes all of these things even more challenging but if there’s a will…there’s a way.

My Grandpa

Sigh.

To say it’s been the ‘summer of change’ could be the largest understatement ever around here. So much has happened in EVERY corner of our lives that I feel an upheaval like never before in my life.

As we drove to San Jose, a week ago today, I learned my beloved grandfather passed away.

It was one of those moments I knew had been coming for the past decade, it seems…yet I was almost unable to process it as I stared at the open road ahead.

I don’t have many words yet to describe how all of this is making me feel. I can say, in all honesty, my Grandfather has only wanted to be with my Grandmother since the second she passed away when I was a little girl. So I’m taking comfort in knowing he is now with my Grandmother. At least I like to pretend that’s where they are, regardless of my beliefs.

So I’m going to just pretend for awhile longer, because all of the reality heaped on us this summer is too much. Good or bad news, it’s all just too much.

Grandpa & Me

Now’s Normal

Caregiving isn’t easy.

I watched my parents take in my Grandfather years ago. Things changed dramatically.

I watched my Mom care for my father. Things changed dramatically.

I watched my cousins and uncle care for my aunt. Things changed dramatically.

I watch my husband care for me. Things continue to change dramatically.

Chronic illness has many different side effects. But I swear the very worst may be what it does to everyone around the person who is chronically ill. It’s not just the sick person who’s life changes. It is everyone in their family. It is everyone they know. And it’s not a ripple effect…it’s a tidal wave. The kind that pulls everyone put to sea and everyone has to work hard to paddle back to shore.

Sadly, not all make it to the sand.

Of course this adds to the stress of illness.I worry less about my own health and worry more about my family. You don’t want to be a burden and you don’t want their lives to changes, however everyone’s lives change dramatically.

My therapist calls it the ‘new’ normal. I loathe the term. Mainly because I don’t want a ‘new’ normal. I want my old normal back. I want everything the way it was before. Of course that’s impossible, however my goal is to at least get as close as I can to what life used to be like. Becoming healthy enough to return to work, to walk a theme park, to be able to take the kids wherever they need to go and actually participate in any activity a normal parent could engage in- from a walking field trip to just helping in a classroom, filled with all those kid germs.

I want to meet my husband for drinks after work, go out on the town. Attend a concert.

So many things that I could go ahead and do now but would require a ton of planning and accommodations for the ‘just in case’ scenarios that come with chronic illness.

In fact, later this week I’ll be attending BlogHer ’14 in San Jose- but I will have to very carefully plan my days and evenings. The drive alone will be tiring, and I won’t be able to medicate myself until we arrive. Then I will be attending an event at 3pm- which means I will most likely be exhausted and absolutely need rest- rendering any evening actives null and void. Then depending on how tired I am when I awake, we’ll see what we can do. But odds are it won’t be much.

When I think about this ‘new’ normal I do get a bit upset for all those times I never considered how lucky I truly was to not have to be able to worry about a thing- to travel at a moment’s notice and not have to worry about making sure I was rested, making sure all of my medications were packed and ready…making sure I hadn’t just been released from the hospital for the 4th time this year. However I’ve learned over the years to not get angry.

I’m not in control of this disease, all I can control are my habits. So my new normal has meant pool exercise. Eating well. And making sure I’m on top of all my medication.

Of course just when I can see a difference and FEEL a difference, I get thrown a curve by ball an urgent care doctor who is adamant I be sent to the hospital for migraine symptoms that could be a mini stroke. It’s times like these I feel like I’ve failed my family and myself. What did I do wrong? What should I have done after getting a classic migraine, like I’ve been getting since puberty…especially headed to treatment where I knew I might get a little queasy?

Apparently spend the night in the hospital just to be sure all was well.

Sigh

Every test came back fine…minus my cholesterol which is now high, apparently. Oh, and my potassium which was low, apparently. But the MRI, the CT, the PT, OT, Speech Therapist…all fine fine fine.

So with nothing you can do, you sit in a hospital bed and try not to worry or be upset and accept the ‘new’ normal that disrupts everyone’s lives. The husband that once again has to take off time from work to help you. The kids who will once again act out in some way because Mom was back in the hospital.

If I could make a deal with the devil to rid my life of this…I would. But not for me, all I did was lay in a bed and injected with good drugs. I would, however, take this away from all those around me.

Now I know full well I would go to the ends of the earth for my husband and kids. For my entire family. I’d let them disrupt every day if they had a ‘new’ normal we couldn’t control. It is a no brainer. I just want to acknowledge everything they go through for me…I love them beyond words.

And I hope we settle into this NOW normal and eventually just think of it as normal, with or without Satan.

My Daughter’s Digital Duel, I Vote DISLIKE

Digital parenting can #suckit.

As many of you know, both of my kids are rather plugged in. I mean…PLUGGED IN. They game, they blog, they game, they do their homework online, they game, they watch tv online, they do EVERYTHING on their iPads or computers. So it should come as zero surprise that any discipline in this house tends to be a direct ‘take away’ of said plugged-in-ed-ness.

My 9-year old plays Animal Jam. She chats. She makes videos. She trades. All of these things are done under my watchful eye-I check her chats, I watch her videos, she tells me about her trades. I hear all the drama when someone makes a bad trade. I hear all the drama when someone wants to make a video and records her and her friends. Up until now we haven’t had a single issue.

Notice I said… until now.

The other day said 9-year old came down the stairs in tears and hysterical. She made a friend on Animal Jam she thought she could trust. He asked if he could borrow her rare spike collar to make a video. She agreed. He took the spike and bolted. She reported him, drama ensued. She asked if I could ask for help from Animal Jam support.

No problem.

H and abucka

I dutifully sent my Motherly email and asked them to check out her story and his and hopefully get her item back. If not, lesson learned. In the meantime he was blocked from her den and her chats so he couldn’t bother her any longer.

Or so I thought.

She unblocked him without me knowing and attempted to retrieve her spike herself. Continuing the drama with him calling names and her demanding her item. Yup. This is what goes on in the digital 9-year old world. HIGH DRAMA.

I found out by accident, as she casually mentioned in a Skype chat with her girlfriend that he was calling her names. Busted. So I wrote another email to Animal Jam support apologizing for my daughter having unblocked the alleged thief and taking matters into her own hands, when we had clearly handed it over to their authority. And then grounded her from the game for a week.

You’d think I’d have killed a gazillion kittens and bunnies. There was door slamming and tears. There was moping. There is currently, next to me, many sighs of boredom.

We’ve been very careful about allowing the kids their own digital spaces without invading their privacy, but also making sure they are in safe places online and are only exposed to what we feel they can handle. But I have to admit, the kids are both playing in worlds that are essentially Second Life or online playdates. With that comes real life disputes and real life hurt feelings and real life everything.

Of course we had a very long talk about her online habits. Trusting someone she had only met the day before (believe me, I worked the Frozen angle on that one into the ground) and making videos about other players, respecting privacy, and informing parents of any activity that isn’t right.

I suppose something like this could just as easily happen in the bike-riding, come home when the street lights turn on, childhoods of our past. The boy down the street might have asked to borrow her shiny, rare, Garbage Pail Kid card to make a video and promise to give it back after. Then runs off into his house and shuts the doors and pulls the window shades. I mean…I suppose that could happen. And I suppose this Mom would have then gotten on the phone with his Mom where she needed to investigate if he committed the accusations. Then I suppose my daughter could have snuck out to go see said boy and fight with him again to get her card back. That’s all very childhood and kid-like….right? Right?

Ugh. All I know is I’m exhausted from having moderated her first digital feud and our first digital foul. And her first digital grounding.

Who knew grounding a kid from an online world could be just as devastating as grounding them from real life?