“She knew which group she was in at an early age. She was one of the good kids. Every one told her so.
Her position was high ranking. She fulfilled the role in good standing and who wouldn’t want to maintain that? So her deeds, her testing, her trying, her explorations, were done in secret. She was careful about that because being good was a load to bear.
She envied the bad kids a bit. Wouldn’t it be nice to figure out who you were without the weight of the good title? Wouldn’t it be nice if no one gasped because, when you’re a bad kid, they expect it of you. Nothing to see there.
Bad kids are expected to be rude or disrespectful. They can let their mouth run wild, respond in anger or say what they really think in the broad daylight and no one would even flinch.
But the good kids? They don’t have that liberty. They are, you know, good kids.”
These labels that we put on kids, that they put on each other, that they put on themselves, come easy in childhood, with little notice, at times. Little notice to everyone except them. They hunker down in those labels and grow into them more quickly than we even realize.
I’m writing for Mothers of Daughters today. Click here to join me and read why I’m not trying to raise good kids.
