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We bring up boys telling them they can't cry, and deny them a natural outlet for their softer emotions. How, then, can they express their feelings safely?
We bring up boys telling them they can’t cry, and deny them a natural outlet for their softer emotions. How, then, can they express their feelings safely?
My son studies in a blue chip college. The bluest in India! He is an affable person with above average grades, a CV with accomplishments and good looks.
BUT… The race against time is omnipresent and so is the pressure cooker situation. You are expected to run from day 1.
Classes, Lab activities, Quizzes, Minors, Majors, Elections, College Festivals! By the time one realizes, the semester is already over and the results are handed out to the student.
If the said student had not been able to prioritize or differentiate between what is necessary and what is tedious or diversionary, he or she will find the going extremely tough. Some get to occupy that dreaded position of bottom of the barrel – The 5 point someone – Life is hell from that point onwards, where you get used to being a second class citizen, celebrating handouts and scraps.
The damage done to your self-esteem and pride takes a lifetime to redeem.
But hey, that was expected. When big fish from small ponds, graduate to big ponds, there will be some major reordering and the said fish are expected to grow up, adjust and survive.
Sadly, only those who are very mentally strong manage to do so.
Communication is paramount here to let out the building steam, before any irreparable damage takes place!
The problem is the notion that ‘Boys Don’t Cry’! We bring them up saying, “You are a boy, learn to be strong. Don’t cry at the drop of a hat, like a girl! Learn to take things in your stride. Grow up!”
And that’s how the bottling up starts, internalizing all the latent stress under the false illusion that sharing of their angst or mental burden to others might make them less manly or small. Peer pressure, you see.
They will talk at each-other but never with each-other. They will hangout, party, swap stuff and bed crash. That’s it. Beyond that, the gates of heart are firmly shut.
A sensitive soul might find the going tough, if he tries to pour his heart out or confide about his difficulties because Boys Don’t Cry. If the parents become his emotional crutch, the boy will be labelled as a clingy baby, who hasn’t grown up yet.
When this all-round pressure becomes too much, some choose what they perceive as an easy way out. A young life gets needlessly snuffed out. As I write this, a young man on the threshold of a beautiful life, studying in one of the esteemed colleges of India, has chosen to end his.
Maybe it is time to end those mothballed narratives and bring up children as persons, laying adequate stress on EQ. Gender Agnostic upbringing might equip our children to handle pain.
Oh yes, it is okay for boys to feel and share.
Because they carry a pumping heart too. Like Girls!
Image source: See page for author [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, for representational purposes only.
Anupama Jain is the author of * ‘When Padma Bani Paula', listed as 'One of the 5 best books of 2018 - Fiction', by readwriteinspire.com. It is a breezy novel about second chances of life and read more...
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After some time, unable to bear it any longer, I signed off from the home lunch. My MIL must've heaved a sigh of relief because my portion of groceries would be saved!
Until I married I had never imagined even in my wildest dreams that my diet/ food intake could assume such alarming proportions and affect conjugal harmony. Having stepped into my marital home I discovered to my bewilderment that the four female inmates were frugal eaters. My spouse and his dad ate moderately well.
The family faced a dilemma: my requirement surpassed those of the ladies but most certainly couldn’t be clubbed with the men’s. Why? Simply because they were MEN. “How could you even think of it”? They snubbed me often. (Incidentally, the parents-in-law refused to accept contributions from either of us). They probably expected me to be demure and submissive since I was ‘‘eating off” their money.
So each morning as I left for work I was served three chapattis with a few spoonfuls of curry. Can you believe this curry catered to the ladies’ lunch the previous day, and dinner for all six inmates? The horror of horrors, it crept into my lunch box too. The chapattis made at the crack of dawn were fine till breakfast but by lunch, they turned leathery; the accompanying curry insipid, tasteless.
We can’t bombard impressionable young women in the name of enlightened entertainment to feed them the same drivel. At least let us not label misogynist movies as helping the cause of women.
I have watched at least 2 ‘purported’ trailblazing Bollywood movies in the recent past that left me with a feeling that I had taken part in the ice-bucket challenge all over again. This time around, however, without even the satisfaction of having supported a worthy cause.
Both the movies have about a 90% liking rate on IMDB/Rotten Tomatoes. Both are touted to ‘sensitively’ portray the taboo topics that seem to be mostly hidden underneath a layer of banana peels – dangerous to even tread nearby.
Why do we parent our boys and girls differently? Teach them both empathy, responsibility and care, and raise well-rounded individuals.
Growing up, it was just me and my sister at home; no brothers. She and I had our share of fun, of teasing and fighting, and even as we grew older, we still share a close bond that I really cherish, and am thankful for. In the 90’s, girls-only households were not so common in small town India and we were constantly asked, “…Aur aapko bhaiya nahin hai?” (So you do not have a brother?)
As we grew older, our bond with our mother changed into friendship and at some point, we became the ones holding her hand while crossing the road, teaching her technology, rooting for her in arguments against the world. I loved this evolution; my sister, our mom and I had turned into a small gang.
We might mean well when we try to comfort a crying child saying boys don't cry. But do we stop and think what far reaching damage we do unintentionally?
We might mean well when we try to comfort a crying child saying real boys don’t cry. But do we stop and think what far reaching damage we do unintentionally?
“Hey, don’t cry. You are a boy. Boys don’t cry; they never cry.”
These were the words of wisdom Robin, my neighbour, had for my son who was crying his heart out after falling off his scooter. The four-year-old was trying a trick but lost his balance. As I was checking him for injuries and trying to comfort him, I heard these words, words that hit me like pellets.