Raising boys

In Washington, a roomful of (mostly) white men gleefully decided to cut founds for women's and newborns' healthcare.

In Chicago, 40 men watched online as a girl was raped. No one called for help. No one spoke.

Near Montreal, a girl call the police after a 2-year volatile relationship because she was scared for her life. The police came, discussed the snow on her license plate. She asked them for help because her ex (who was clearly angry and violent) wanted her to come get her stuff from his place. They sent her in alone with him. He killed her right then and there. She spoke, she asked for help, but she wasn't believed. The murderer had posted videos online talking about his anger. Not one of his friends intervened. No one.


Days like today, raising boys feels like an impossible task. I want them to understand the concept of consent. I want them to respect the people in front of them, no matter if they are female or male. I want them to accept the limits to their own "liberty", how their anger and frustration doesn't overcome or matter more than a life. How a no is a no.

I thought for a long time I would have girls. I would have shown them to speak up. To stand their ground. To trust their power over their own body. I have boys. I'll raise them to accept someone's ownership of their own body. I'll raise them to listen to what women have to say. And to ask for help.

But mostly, I think I'll raise them to speak up when it's not comfortable. And to believe those who ask for help, trust their stories.