Growing up in northwest Ohio, technically part of the midwest, big girls didn’t cry. Neither did boys. Neither did men. It was sort of, kind of Ok for women to cry … sometimes.
I saw this post by Speech Prof, and it made me a little teary-eyed. Click here and take a few seconds to watch it.
I find myself thinking back over interactions with the people who were adults when I was a child. And I have a really hard time remembering them crying. Like … at all.
I know it’s men who stereotypically are the ones who aren’t supposed to cry. But for my family, that crossed gender. I remember learning from a young age that “big girls don’t cry.”
From there my thoughts go to my aunt who transitioned off this plane at the end of September. I remember she called me in 2016 after she learned her daughter was murdered. Not only murdered, but murdered by her grandson.
I’ll leave you to read the above paragraph again…
During our conversation, she apologized for crying. “I’m sorry I’m putting this on you,” as if the weight of the entire fucking universe hadn’t just crashed onto her shoulders. “I don’t want to be weak.” As if that’s a burden anyone should ever bear alone.
I can’t remember seeing my dad cry either. Though I do remember him saying he was, “strong like bull” when he was going through chemo and radiation treatments and weight about 100 lbs, standing 5’11” (180cm). A body that used to look strong at 180 lbs (82 kg).
My aunt was my dad’s oldest sister. They were sold the same lies through their childhoods about hiding their emotions. Shoving them waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay down. Maybe manifesting later as the illnesses that caused them to transition too early … Too soon.
They were sold a toxic vision and version of strength that did not serve them. And I know it didn’t serve me. Through a lot of counseling and personal reflection, I’ve been shedding that toxic vision that was sold as the ideal.
And that is something I wish for everyone.
And I wish that for everyone.
Fuck folks that label tears as weakness. Fuck folks that think that putting forward a strong face is strength. (<< That sentiment is more directed at folks who made my Dad think he had to put on that strong face.)
I wish us all authenticity, which includes vulnerability.
I hope that kicker gets to visit with his family very soon. I hope he never loses his connection with his emotions, because once you are disconnected from them … damn it’s hard to knit that connection back into reality.
Sending you love. Sending you a reminder that you are enough … Through the tears … Through whatever your image and version of weakness is. You being you through it all is strong as fuck.
