Breaking the mould

When you hold your new-born child in your arms for the first time, you marvel at their individuality. Every skin-fold, every birth mark gets scrutinized. You marvel at their toes, their eye lashes, their nails that already need a trimming. Everything about them is so pure and new, a blank canvas with only a few words inscribed on it. A treasury of remembrance to what you once were, before you got moulded and shaped into the person you are today.

Fast forward 5 years to when your child comes home from school asking you to cut off his beautiful locks of hair, because the children say he looks like a girl. Or not wanting to wear a button up shirt because his friends will laugh at him. You are 5! I want to scream out. Only 5 – for goodness sake. Is the societal pressure of being and becoming so evident already that our pre-school population is starting to feel the need to conform? I am flabbergasted and heart-broken.

Here I am, 33 years older than him, trying to break out of the mould and to find myself. Who am I without the pressure of conformity, of performing, of becoming what society deems appropriate. Here I am, fighting for the person that I lost as I laid down precious parts of myself for the purpose of becoming a responsible and acceptable member of society. And for me, what a joyous, liberating journey it has been. A homecoming, a becoming into my true self, my whole self.

So as I am stepping out of the mould, I see my son stepping in. And the worst part is – I am allowing it to happen, as I need to curb certain behaviours and nurture others. He does need to be a respectable member of society. But my heart aches for the loss of his uniqueness, of what he chooses to lay down because it makes him feel uncomfortable and not acceptable. Because he is so sensitive to what his friends say and think. As a mother I rejoice in his unique character traits and abilities, I want to encourage them. But what if he chooses to lay them down, because it makes him different?

Is this not a larger problem, a societal problem where we get labelled and categorized, pushed into boxes, stripped of our individuality to be the most productive members of society we can be. There is no room for just being, no time for true becoming. Our worth is measured by our performance, our acceptability is measured by our appearance, our success is measured by our wealth. How empty and utterly worthless is that.

As a person, a woman, a mother and a therapist, I choose to rejoice in the non-tangible things. I want to measure my productivity in terms of how much energy I have left at the end of the day for my husband and my children, I want to measure my acceptability by being true to who I am as a person and being proud to contribute my uniqueness to those around me, I want to measure my success by how many giggles and laughs I am able to facilitate every day, by building trust and safety into the relationships that I hold near and dear to me. I choose that for myself – and I wish that for my children.

So what can I do for my son who needs to conform, but needs to maintain a sense of individuality in the process? Maybe we all lay ourselves down for the collective, just to hopefully find ourselves again. Maybe that is the circle of life. Maybe I can show him how to live, by example if I live out my individuality whether it makes me frowned-upon or not. Maybe I can pray and talk to him about being proud of who you are, of celebrating his uniqueness.

I don’t know, I don’t have the answer as I am walking this road for the first time. What I do know is that I wish society can not only be more accepting or tolerating of individual differences – but rather celebrate them, embrace them and encourage them. That we don’t place the emphasis on productivity, but rather on balance and emotional health. That we teach our children to look for the butterflies on their journeys, not only the gold. That we teach them that to stay true to themselves, even in the process of conforming.

As Kahil Gibran says: ‘Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself…You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow…”