How to Talk to a 14-Year-Old Girl

I spent last Friday night with my mentee, Consuelo, learning what adolescent girls are facing these days, and how to talk about it. Rosalind Wiseman spoke at Girls, Inc. on the topics of communication, bullying, and why your mom "freaks out." The event was sponsored by Dove, who has a world-wide campaign for real beauty they've been working on for some time. While I expected a lot more interaction and a lot less of the speaker talking, I got some valuable tips. And it opened some doors I didn't know how to open with a 14-year-old girl. So it was time well spent.

Here are some tips for moms and mentors that I found particularly helpful:

-Affirm her feelings.

-Don't ask a million questions.

-Ask if she's venting or wants advice.

-If she's venting, keep your trap shut.

-Don't use her slang. It's not cool.

-Ask her what she means if you don't understand.

-Share your experience without lecturing.

-Just stand there. Really. Pay attention. Listen.

-Let her make "mistakes," meaning she's not going to do it your way.

-Accept silence. People who are comfortable with each other don't need to talk constantly.

-Don't ever make fun of her (not that I would do this, but it's a good reminder).

-Apologize when you screw up. Model that good behavior.

The Power of Positive Thinking

A story called "Emotional Training Helps Kids Fight Depression" aired this morning on National Public Radio. The story opens with an adult man talking about how he's lived with negative self-talk his whole life. After years of cognitive behavioral therapy, he finally replaced the self-flagellation with talk of, "I'll be able to do it better next time."

The interviewer moves to a class full of 10-year-old kids, where the teacher is trying to teach them emotional resilience skills so that they don't spend a lifetime telling themselves they're not good enough. Good enough for what? For whom? Why do we kill the joy in children so early? Programs like Smart-Girl try to mitigate the effects of this social training, but how much permanent change can we effect when the problem is so big? Why, as a society, are we stuck in this endless loop of unfulfilled unhappiness?

Sometimes (and I wish there were more of those times), I feel so connected to the universal consciousness that I float free, blissfully unshackled from the tape in my head. In those moments, I see and know and feel everything and am at peace with it all. The moments don't last long, but I know from conversations with others that I'm lucky to have them at all. Oh, to capture the complex path of neural connections that happens in those moments and be able to repeat them, on command. Maybe scientists should focus on THAT task instead of curing all of the diseases we develop because of stress and constant worry.

But I do my part by being involved with Smart-Girl, curtailing my own recording, and demonstrating for my mentee Consuelo that setbacks are temporary and not to be taken personally. We shall overcome.

Deconstructing the Movie "Up"

The Pixar movie "Up" was the first kid movie I've seen in the theater in a long, long time. I took Consuelo, my mentee, to see it because it got excellent reviews and it was not about violence. (You try picking an appropriate movie to take a 13-year-old girl to see; it's tough. Holy bursting bombs, Batman.)

On the face of it, it's not your typical superhero movie. An old white guy with a big schnoz and a little round Asian-American kid were the heroes. The evil crazy guy was white. The little girl likes to pretend she's a pilot. The dopey dog is the one who finds the treasure. In the end, the old white guy ends up subbing as the Asian-American kid's dad, so it's obviously pro-nontraditional family.

But this is how privilege works. On the surface, it's fighting a lot of the stereotypes. So hooray for them, right? But then I started thinking about it, and I found a dozen reinforcements of the messages of privilege. Hmm, let's see:

-The bad, evil dog is black. How obvious can you get?
-The black dog gets his comeuppance and is put in his place in the end.
-The little kid is fat and is portrayed as weak because of it.
-The kid doesn't have a mom and a dad, because how could a person of color have a happy family?
-Not being able to have children causes the white couple much sadness, because it's not normal for couples not to have children.
-The little girl who wanted to be a pilot and an adventurer ends up being a housewife.
-Only boys are adventurers.
-The fat kid can't control himself when it comes to eating. (Well, duh, because that's why all fat people are fat, right? They eat too much chocolate.)
-The old guys either get fat and ugly or mean and crazy.
-The bird, who is different from everyone else, is hunted her whole life.
-Marriage is between a man and a woman.
-Heroes are able-bodied and able-minded.

I'm sure there are many more that I didn't catch because I'm too immersed in the social messaging associated with my privilege. But scrutinizing what seems OK at first and realizing that it's maybe not so OK after all helps me to not perpetuate and support the status quo. I do wonder, though, what messages Consuelo took from it. We'll have to discuss.

In Honor of Valentine's Day

"By day the blue will pale down into white where it touches the white of the land, after sunset it has a new circumference--orange, melting upwards into tenderest purple."
-E.M. Forster, A Passage to India

My heart beats faster when I read that sentence. But it wasn't always so. My personality style is ESTJ, which means my natural tendency is to think first and feel later, and to think about facts first and people second. But the stars aligned a few years ago and brought two women into my life who changed me forever: Elizabeth, who shared her art and her big heart with me, and Linda, who was forever asking me crazy-making questions like, "Do you think that will get you what you want?"

I dedicate this quote to you, because I don't know if I could have recognized the beauty in it without you. Though we don't work together anymore and see each other not nearly as often as I would like, you are in my thoughts and in my heart. Love to you and every one of my dear valentines...

Lessons in Collectivism

Mentoring someone from a different culture has been quite a lesson in humility. I thought I understood privilege, but I still get taken off guard when my assumptions come back to kick me in the teeth. I've noticed it the most with my ideas around giving and possessions. When I give someone a gift, I expect that it will remain the property of the person I gave it to and that the person will treasure it as a token of my esteem and affection. Not necessarily so.

Look, I understand regifting and giving stuff to the thrift store if you hate it, if you really hate it, or it doesn't fit or something. For years, my grandma gave me frou-frou sweaters that were two sizes too small for me. Wishful thinking on her part--that I liked teddy bears and sequins on my clothes and that I would somehow magically be thin. So those went to Goodwill. But having your sister or your mom or your grandma just take the gift that was given to you and do with it what she pleases is absolutely foreign to me.

And I guess that's the essence of cultural misunderstanding and privilege, isn't it? I judge that behavior, and I want to intervene. My big-sister protective gene kicks in. Who takes a little kid's stuff anyway?

My sister Lindsey, wise person and counselor-in-training that she is, says, "They're collectivists." Of COURSE! How did I miss this? Me, who believes that socialist medicine can peacefully co-exist with capitalism. But my training is so strong, and my individualism so carefully maintained, that I needed someone with a different perspective to point out the flaw in my thinking. My mentee's mom had hinted that I was spoiling her daughter--apparently taking her to free craft classes, giving her a pumpkin at Halloween, and going out for chicken at Boston Market is a big deal. And giving her things? I think somehow that doesn't fit with their idea of what a mentor should be and do.

So I'm adjusting my thinking. Gifts should be for the whole family. Everything is considered community property. The pumpkin was turned into food rather than the jack-o-lantern I expected. A necklace that little one made with my expensive vintage beads was broken on the first day, and the beads were lost. A birthday gift card was appropriated. And this family gave up a whole room for a relative and his kids to live in for several months until he can move back to his country of origin. They took in a third dog and fostered him until they could find him a home. They eat dinner together around a big table in the kitchen.

I have much to learn.

I Don't Know How to Be a Superhero

I mentor a 13-year-old girl named Consuelo through an organization called Denver Kids. She's a good kid with a loving mom and two sisters who will be her friends for life. She's lucky because she's got a better start than a lot of kids in the program. I'm lucky because other mentors have to deal with drugs, pregnancy, and abuse. I may still face some of those issues with her, but I hope not. I want to see her graduate from high school and college without going through any major trauma. I want to see her be happy.

It was a huge decision, this committing to being a mentor. Frankly, I was terrified that I would do or say something wrong--that I would screw up somehow and mess up a kid for life. But I did it anyway. I jumped through all the hoops, including orientation, interviews with different organizations, fingerprinting and the background check, and lots of other stuff that I've blocked from memory because I want to convince my friends to become mentors too.

In mentor training, they said that every mentor is afraid of doing something wrong. They told us that we don't have to be superheroes; just being ourselves is good enough. They told us that our first responsibility is to always meet our commitments to the mentee. Our second job is to be a friend rather than a parent or teacher. Our third task is to be calm and nonjudgmental at all times and to set boundaries when necessary.

When Consuelo told me how she fights with her sisters, I told her that she was filled with light and love and to try to remember that in the moment. It's what I would tell my best friend. I hope it was right and good. It was me.