My daughter is not a puppy
Written on Sunday...Kiomye is dancing on the sculpture platform outside the Tarazuka train station. Carefree child’s play. Her arms raised over her head, dress twirling she sings a make-the-words-up-as-you-go song about a princess. She draw a crowd. The fates have made my daughter beautiful and her parents have moved her to a country where her blue eyes and blondish hair are anomalies. Some of the people who stop to watch her are simply smiling women, mothers themselves, who delight in the joy of children. Other are older men that stop suddenly with their mouths dropped open, a look of confusion and bewilderment on their faces. Kiomye is unaware. I don’t mind if people watch her, as long as they don’t bother her.
On Mondays, Matt teaches at class at my school. He brings Kiomye with him and I watch her during my free period. The teachers have been very friendly and tolerant. Yet, Kiomye gets very shy at my school because so many oft these people insist on touching her. After the third teacher (a stranger to Kiomye) had squeezed her cheeks, Kiomye turned to me, her hands on her face, and said with a very confused look, “He touch me mommy.” I smiled at her and said that the teachers just like her. Then I took her out of the teacher’s office and we spend the rest of the period reading books in an empty classroom.
I know it’s tempting to touch her, pat her head or try to hold her little hand. But, unless she has invited it, it’s really inappropriate. She’s allowed personal space too. Not to say that she doesn’t love affection. Just try to come visit our house and sit on our couch with out her crawling all over you. But, that’s in our comfortable house where she knows the people the visit. I want to tell her that the people who touch her don’t mean anything by it, but there is no reason why she should have to endure their touch if she’s uncomfortable with it. I don’t want to teach her that she has to let strangers and men do what they want so that she doesn’t embarrass them. I want her to be able to say no. It’s difficult when the people who lavish attention on her honestly mean well.
posted by Scribbler @ Wednesday, November 17, 2004
1 Comments:
.... and I am not a freak. My height, (and dare I admit girth), blue eyes and blonde hair get me much more attentin then I can handle. The little servant girl next door who sits on the curb allday babysitting her toddler sister, comes over to watch me evertime I come and go from my house. She stands just a couple feet away from me and stares like I'm a freak of nature. It really gets to me. Some people like the attention that comes from being different, but I was a quiet and shy child and fitting in with the group was all I ever wanted.
Stick to your guns about uninvited touching. Initiate the limits by asking your daughter as soon as you meet a new person if she is ready to shake hands yet. When uninvited face touching (etc) happens right away ask her if she is okay with that or if she would rather they just shake hands with her. Teach her a routine she can use to express her limits within the bounds of culture.
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