The first conversation on this subject, described in part one, came to me in the middle of earning my Women's Studies degree. Now, I'm a year out of school. I'm nannying for 1.5 year olds and writing on the side, and I came home for a week to see my family. I spent most of the day, today, with my 4 year old nephew. He's well-spoken and curious, but also a bit modest at times. Though today he came into the bathroom with me at the restaurant where we were eating lunch. When I sat down to go to the bathroom, he unabashedly searched for the source of my pee. I asked him if that's what he was looking for, and he smiled, "Yes. Do you pee out of your butt?" I explained that just like he has a penis, I have a vagina, and that it would be funny if we peed out of our butts. And we laughed. (Though my mom did point out later that we actually pee from our urethra. But I knew that's not what he was getting at.)
He didn't say another word until we were in the car later and he decided to tell me, as a joke, that girls pee out of their penises. Now, were he my kid, it would have been a bigger opportunity to explicitly discuss the fact that some girls do in fact have penises and some boys have vaginas. Though I am his aunt. I can't go full feminist on the kid then leave him hanging when I head back home to NYC. I only see him a few times a year. But I can at least plant a few seeds so that when he's 14 and curious, he knows who to talk to.
I said,
"You know, some girls do have penises and some boys have vaginas."
"Why?"
"Just because they do. Everyone's different."
"Oh."
And he simply continued with the former conversation;
"Well boys pee out of..what's that word again?"
"Vaginas"
"Boys pee out of vaginas!"
*snicker*
This continued for awhile, and I felt accomplished. I taught him a useful word today, though it wasn't much of an anti-transphobia teaching moment.
Showing posts with label child. Show all posts
Showing posts with label child. Show all posts
Friday, May 6, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Mommy and me.
As a nanny, I am a part of the sometimes difficult but most often beautiful intimate life of a family. There are no adequate words for my role, only stigmatized words-- nanny, babysitter-- that have their own contexts attached. I don't mind these words because I tend to pick the sort of families who disregard their stigmas, or are actively aware of them. While power dynamics are unavoidable, I've learned enough about them by now to navigate comfortably and chose families who are aware of how unique my position is in their personal lives.
The intimate experiences I have in these families' personal lives are not only driven by relationship with the child, but also with the mother (and inevitably the father). With most families, the mother is the primary caretaker; my boss of sorts. My relationship with her is one of mentorship that I haven't found anywhere else in my life. Sure, for many nannies, the mother-nanny relationship can be volatile and difficult. Mine just haven't been - partly because of the families I find, partly because of my work ethic.
From the first time I work in their homes, I come into the house as a virtual tool for the mother/father (the primary caretaker). I listen to what they want, follow their guidelines, and act as one piece of their support system. For a couple of them, leaving for work has been a site of mommy guilt that I try my best to mediate. These are not my children, nor do I want children anytime soon. But it is my job to make sure these mothers and fathers feel as comfortable and content as they could possibly be to leave their child with another person. I am the surrogate family while they're away and, in the process, I become an odd piece of their family unit. We still haven't figured out what to call my place in the family. It's more than a sitter, more than a nanny, but not real family -- a strange in between.
My relationship with the mother, though, has given me an understanding of motherhood that I couldn't have gotten elsewhere. I work so closely with her that I can anticipate her parenting-style and transfer it to my work while watching her child. This closeness comes from the respect I feel for her and the constant respect and gratitude that she expresses to me for caring for her children and for my hard work. This mutual respect translates itself in other parts of life - I am overwhelmingly happy for her family when something goes right and equally devastated when I experience them in sadness and grief. It's not only the child that makes my job complex and beautiful, it's the opportunity to view individual motherhood this intimately.
The intimate experiences I have in these families' personal lives are not only driven by relationship with the child, but also with the mother (and inevitably the father). With most families, the mother is the primary caretaker; my boss of sorts. My relationship with her is one of mentorship that I haven't found anywhere else in my life. Sure, for many nannies, the mother-nanny relationship can be volatile and difficult. Mine just haven't been - partly because of the families I find, partly because of my work ethic.
From the first time I work in their homes, I come into the house as a virtual tool for the mother/father (the primary caretaker). I listen to what they want, follow their guidelines, and act as one piece of their support system. For a couple of them, leaving for work has been a site of mommy guilt that I try my best to mediate. These are not my children, nor do I want children anytime soon. But it is my job to make sure these mothers and fathers feel as comfortable and content as they could possibly be to leave their child with another person. I am the surrogate family while they're away and, in the process, I become an odd piece of their family unit. We still haven't figured out what to call my place in the family. It's more than a sitter, more than a nanny, but not real family -- a strange in between.
My relationship with the mother, though, has given me an understanding of motherhood that I couldn't have gotten elsewhere. I work so closely with her that I can anticipate her parenting-style and transfer it to my work while watching her child. This closeness comes from the respect I feel for her and the constant respect and gratitude that she expresses to me for caring for her children and for my hard work. This mutual respect translates itself in other parts of life - I am overwhelmingly happy for her family when something goes right and equally devastated when I experience them in sadness and grief. It's not only the child that makes my job complex and beautiful, it's the opportunity to view individual motherhood this intimately.
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