My littlest sister lay sprawled face up like a starfish on the bed in total dismay. Her seven year old mind was clearly occupied by something and it was bothering her. This is how I found her when I entered the room.
“Whats wrong, BB?”
She didn't move a muscle. Only her eyes shifted from their fixed spot on the ceiling to look at me.
“All my boyfriends are stronger then me! Even the ones who are younger than me are stronger then me!” And with this declaration she flailed her arms in dramatic frustration before letting them thud back on to the bed. “Ugh. Why do I have to be a girl?…” Her eyes returned to their spot on the ceiling. Her face was the very definition of ‘fed up.’
You must understand two things about my sister. First, she had not yet figured out that “boyfriend” didn't mean boys who were just your friends. Second, while most babies are born with cute chubby rolls, she was born with with toned arms and by the time she learned to walk she had visible abs. She was, and had always been, “shredded”. She knew she was strong and believed herself to be indestructible.
I sat down at the foot of the bed and she sat up to meet me. “Why do guys get to be strong and not girls! What’s so special about being a girl!” Her shoulders slumped over so far I thought she might fall off the bed. “And don't tell me its because we can have babies!!!” She murmured while rolling her eyes.
“Oh, BB.” I cooed while taking her up into my arms. “Whats wrong with being able to have babies?”
She sighed as she cuddled up to me “Well, ugh… nothing. It’s just…” she buried her head into my chest and I heard a muffled, “Just why do boys have to be stronger?”
“Well, BB, why do you always say I’d make a good mommy?”
Her muffled voice perked up, “Because you’re cuddly!” She squeezed me tighter, taking full advantage of this characteristic.
“Hehe, yes BB. I’m cuddly.” I chuckled and squeezed her back, “But would I be as cuddly if I was super muscly? You see BB, it is very important that girls are soft in order to have babies. Our bodies were made to take care of babies. What are these for?” I pointed to my breast.
“To feed babies…” She whispered.
“Right. And Girls are the only ones who can make babies in their tummies. Our bodies can make babies, feed babies, and we are soft so that the baby has something comfy to cuddle. These are all good things, BB.”
“Yeah, but why can’t we be strong too! Why do boys have to be the strong ones?”
“Well someone has to protect the mommy and baby! The mommy shouldn't be fighting bad guys AND holding the baby! Thats what daddies are for. Daddies and mommies work together to protect and take care of the baby.”
She still showed signs of discontent with the arrangement so I asked, “BB, what food do you like?”
“Cereal”
"And what is in cereal?”
“Milk and cereal”
“Are milk and cereal the same?”
“No…”
“But when they are put together do they make each other better?”
“Yes” her face perked up.
“Is one better then the other?"
“No.” Now she was giggling. She was starting to get the point of the analogy.
“So they are different, but they complement each other?”
“Yep!”
“Thats what boys and girls are like! Neither is better than the other. We are just different and, like cereal and milk, we complement each other! Guys are strong in order to let us be soft so we can take care of babies!”
“Yeah!” Her face lit up as she contemplated what she had just heard. Suddenly her face fell and she got quiet. “But what if… What if my boyfriends use their strength to hurt me?”
I got quiet. I knew that question well. My mind went back to when I was young and boys had used their strength to hurt me instead of protect me. I thought back to what I wish I knew at that time. “Yes BB, they could use it to hurt you. But that is not what they were meant to use it for. You can know that that is not who they are supposed to be. And If they hurt you, you can go to our dad and our brother. They love you and they will use their gift of strength to protect you.”
This brought a smile back to her face and she continued to cuddle me. We circled through the main points a few more times till I was certain she had committed them to memory before she skipped downstairs to play My Little Pony.
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