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| Wise words. Thanks to filmsforaction.org for this image. |
I cut off a woman in the children's
hospital parking lot this week.
It was purely accidental, I swear. I just
got my first pair of glasses and their thick hipster rims have created blind
spots that I'm still getting used to. I just didn't see her car. It was nothing
personal.
But apparently it was personal to her, because she not only proceeded to
honk at me (which, if it ended there, would have resulted in an apologetic wave
from yours truly) but also rolled down her window and started yelling at me while
my child was in the car.
And yelling.
And yelling.
And yelling.
Like oh-mi-gawd. It was ridiculous. If I had taken out of my phone, she could
have been a YouTube sensation.
She was a total rage case for 30 seconds -
because that's all it was, really. Her trip was delayed by the time it took me
to stick my parking pass into the machine, pull it out again and drive
away. I couldn't understand why she was
making such a big deal out of something so small.
The old me - the person I was before having
to do a lot of growing up this past year - would have done one of two things:
1. Flipped her off from the comfort of my vehicle and smiled smugly,
because if you're going to act like a total bitch I'm going to show you what
pure bitchery actually looks like, or
2. Exited the vehicle and had a few words with her about calming the fuck down in a parking lot full of young
children and accepting that people make mistakes sometimes so please get a clue
and some Xanax
No matter which option I would have chosen,
however, it would have inevitably resulted in regretting the decision to react with
such negativity to an already negative situation. I never like myself
afterwards.
So I chose kindness.
Instead of thinking, "That douchecanoe
is completely freaking out behind me.
I'm going to show her how we do things in the west end," I thought,
"Poor thing. She must have a lot going on. Nobody visits the children's
hospital for fun. I'm going to get out of here as quickly as possible and let
her take her turn."
And I also chose not to take it personally.
Yes, I made a mistake. It was my fault that
I cut her off. But her reaction was completely her responsibility. She could
have sighed or swore under her breath - and let it go. She could have assumed
that I have a lot on my mind as well and just didn't see her - and let it go. But she didn't. Like, she really didn't. She really, really needed to let me know how much I offended her. But I
didn't let her extreme reaction dictate how I felt about myself. I felt sheepish because I had made a mistake,
but I didn't feel like the worst human being on the planet just because she
felt that way in that moment.
Her reaction, her business. My mistake, my
business.
Holy shit. I'm totes growing up.
I'm doing the same thing with Judgmental Mom, the fellow parent I have to deal with on a semi-regular basis who has made
it clear to many that she does not agree with our decision to support our
transgender child.
I
meet her with kindness - always. I smile and I say
hello and I break the ice at every encounter. I include her in conversations and neither
hide nor emphasize the fact that we have a transgender child. I treat her just
like everyone else.
I
empathize. Her upbringing was very different from
mine, and the way she practices her faith does not coincide with how I raise my
child. I don't have religion to tangle
with when it comes to acceptance, but she does. My life does not revolve around
trying to make a deity happy in the way I think I'm supposed to. I can imagine
that would be a lot to work through on the path to open-mindedness. I hope she
gets there someday.
I
don't take it personally. Her reaction is entirely
hers. Her beliefs are entirely her own. This isn't about us, or anything we've
done. I won't tolerate outright hatred or intolerance, but if she treats us
cordially, we're good.
I
have hope that kindness will beget more kindness. It's
infectious, you know. And I'm creating the right atmosphere for learning. I'm
letting her into our world whenever she's around, so she can see that we're
just a normal, happy, functional family who happens to be raising a transgender
child. It might make a difference. It might make no difference. But at least I'm
setting an example I can be proud of, rather than making a challenging
situation worse.
It's funny, you know. Despite how
passionate I am about the issues affecting my child and my strong desire to
make the world a better place for her, I seem to be choosing kindness over
anger most of the time. Maybe the glasses are making me smarter.
Yep. It's totally the glasses.
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| Now with added blindspots. |