Someone scribbled “Womens’ Rights” on a bench at the river. When we passed it this morning, my girls were filled with questions. Why do we still need special rights, Mommy? Aren’t we equal? Can’t we do everything boys can do? And I reassured them that they, we, are equal. Equal to their brothers and the other boys in the world. But the news of the day was still infiltrating my thoughts and my eyes filled with tears and I wanted to say something more like this…
Oh, darlings…there are people in this world, in our great free country, that don’t believe we are all equal. They believe they are superior because of their gender, the color of their skin, or because they think there’s only one way to pray…one way to love…one way to live.
So I did. I told them gently because I don’t want to burst the bubble they live in. The bubble that allows them to discuss skin color like eye color. Let’s them recognize love whether their friends have two mommies, two daddies, one of each or maybe just one. The bubble that let’s them live without superiority and judgement. The one that let’s them see the different ways other kids pray with a twinkle of awe in their eyes.
See, I find hope in my kids. I find hope in the generation that is starting to live without barriers and without questioning boundaries. I find hope in the fact that they don’t need to understand tolerance, they just know love and equality.
And on days like today, when I wake hearing the news of yet another hate-filled event, I need to keep reminding myself of the hope I see so I don’t feel so desperate and despondent. I need to hold hands and remind myself that the innocent eyes of our children are the ones we need to use to see.