THE AGE OF CONSENT
In the age of #MeToo, Rebecca Wadey asks if we need to be educating our boys at a younger age about empathy and how to treat others
Parenting boys in the #MeToo age
When I was pregnant with my first child I had a nightmare that after giving birth to him I wrapped him in newspaper, like a hefty serving of fish and chips, and left him in the backseat of the car while I went to visit friends. ‘What are you feeding him?’ my friends asked casually, at which point I realised he hadn’t been fed since I’d birthed him days earlier. I’m sure Freud would consider this textbook anxiety, given I had a mastectomy five years before falling pregnant with him, however I am reminded of it often when I, with alarming regularity, forget to feed my children.
Given they are now nine and 10 I refuse to feel responsible for this, they are surely capable of putting a piece of toast in the toaster. And, given that they seem to eat through a loaf of bread in a single sitting they should also be capable of finding my wallet and going to the dairy to buy said bread. Did I mention they are nine and 10? Life shouldn’t still be so exhausting.
In those early days of parenting, I used to reassure myself that it wasn’t brain surgery. Crack addicts have birthed and raised wonderful children, I would tell myself. However, as my children have learned to talk and argue back I’m fast realising that a certain level of street smarts and quick wit are needed for parenting; I fear I’m decidedly lacking in both. For example, bribing your children to behave from October onwards as Santa is watching them and he doesn’t take presents to naughty boys. And being tripped up the following month when you suggest they pull out their old toys to take to children less fortunate than them and having them ask you what those children did that was so bad.
Exhibit two. Spending years telling your children that yes you are going to kiss them and cuddle them and blow raspberries on their stomach when they least expect (we call them supriseberries™ in my house) as it’s your right as the person who grew them in your stomach and then birthed them out your vagina and then sobbed in pain for months trying to feed them off one sad old soggy sock of a breast. And then suddenly coming up against #MeToo and wondering if this is the best approach to take when raising boys.
Recent world events have made me question much of the language we use in our house. We wrestle, we tease each other, we always go a little too far. Particularly me, I’ve been doing a lot of pilates this year and I can use my legs like a vice that no one can escape from unless they beg for mercy. But how do we keep the fun and games of a close family unit while teaching the necessary transitions to apply this to the real world?
We owe it to little boys to have these difficult conversations. I see my children, flush with testosterone, blinded by a dogged single-mindedness and a raging superiority complex, oblivious to the feelings of anyone around them. How do we teach them empathy, that the world is so much more than just them, and the social cues that will open their eyes to this?
Some may say that 10 is too early to start talking about consent but I believe it’s applicable to so many important situations, not just sex. To me, it’s about ensuring my white middle class sons realise they have arrived at life with certain privileges that give them an unwitting advantage over others. They can either use that advantage for good (to elevate those around them), or for evil (by actually believing the hype around their privilege rather than understanding it’s a medieval social construct designed to oppress others).
In our household, as with most things, it eventually came down to football. I was trying to talk to my children amidst the global outcry around now Supreme court judge Brett Kavanaugh and the testimony of Dr Christine Blasey Ford. They were vague participants in this conversation; there was a certain level of understanding and comprehension. Then I mentioned that their idol, Cristiano Ronaldo, is going through something similar. Suddenly they were full of questions. We talked about fame and ego, and how being told how good you are all the time can dull your ability to read social cues and also make the needs of others less relevant. Among questions about the impact this will have on his career (ha, now there’s a good joke) we talked about trauma and how hard it is for someone to speak out against one more powerful.
I do find children, when not in the midst of a tantrum, are really good to talk through potentially emotive subjects with. They provide a neutral ground and natural curiosity that allows you to listen, as well as talk. Communication is the most important key around all aspects of the consent conversation.
It’s hard to tell a morality tale when the moral always seems to be ‘don’t worry boys, treat women however you want without consequence’. The only recourse seems to be ensuring they respect other humans and check their own ego. This is the harder parts of parenting that you don’t even think of in the throes of sleepless nights and sore boobs (or lack thereof).