Sideline Advocacy

As many parents do on an autumn Saturday morning, I headed to the soccer field to watch my youngest son compete in a match. It was early, chilly, and clear from the very beginning of the game that the competition was tough. Not having extensive knowledge of the game, I typically try to restrict my sideline banter to "Go Knights," or "Way to hustle," or sometimes even "Good job, keeper!"

This game was no different for me, although other parents (from both teams) had plenty to say. Several parents thought that the ref wasn't fairly calling the game, and that seemed to lead to an escalation in sideline tensions. I eventually stood up, forgoing my uncomfortable perch on a flimsy foldable chair in favor of pacing a bit as we watched the boys run up and down the field.

At one point, a boy from each team collided, but the play continued as the ref apparently just didn't realize that there were possible injuries. The sideline erupted with frustrated calls from parents. I hate seeing kids get hurt during games, so I was focused on the field, willing each player to get up and hoping they weren't seriously injured.

Then, the lady next to me called out, perhaps to the ref "How do you just keep running past them? That is so retarded!"

The tension of the game got to me, and I immediately snapped "Hey! That word is not ok!"

She and the woman sitting next to her looked at me, surprised. I was immediately disappointed in my approach, as my words had come off with an edge that I had not intended. But, in the heat of that moment, it was definitely there. I tried again: "Look, I know you're upset, but that is not an appropriate word to use."

The lady sitting next to her came to her defense: "She didn't mean it that way. She doesn't know."

I attempted a smile. "Ok, well, now we know. It's inappropriate. I'm a parent of a child with a disability, and it's not ok to say that."

The lady shot back, "NO, you're just perceiving it the wrong way."

At that point, I stopped. I could have gone on, but I knew that I was just really angry and anything else I would say would make the matter worse. I was seething, though. Yeah, calling her out like that was perhaps not the best approach, but turning it around and trying to make it my problem? Like she had a good reason for using that word that I was just not willing to consider? No. Not cool. She remained fairly quiet through the rest of the match, but at the end of the game (after a full-on parent sideline meltdown, from parents of both teams, which I didn't participate in and was disheartened by), she turned to the parents on our team and loudly declared "All y'all's just rude."

That's the thing with advocacy: it can come off in a rude manner, especially if you find yourself on the other end of it. It can be uncomfortable, and it's not always easy. However, the need for a change generally doesn't come from a place of comfort. While I didn't deliver my message as eloquently as I would like, I still got the word out, loud and clear. Hopefully they truly heard me, and maybe they went home and realized my intentions. We all need to do the hard work to create a kinder, more inclusive place for our kids, and for each other.

Here's hoping that the next soccer match isn't quite as eventful.

On Top of My Soapbox...Again

Sometimes, advocacy just creeps right up on you.

The other night at dinner, we were talking about silly names, and Andrew said he should be called "Mustache McGee". That made me snicker and recall some ridiculous moment from what I remembered as a scene from Saturday Night Live (I later learned that it was actually from a Will Ferrell movie, but whatever). When the kids asked what I was smiling about, I told them it shouldn't be mentioned at the dinner table. Andrew immediately thought I was referring to something with a swear word, and I then had to explain to him that while some words aren't "bad" like swear words, they just aren't nice and shouldn't be used.

"Like 'retard', or 'retarded'?" asked my daughter, her eyes wide.

Whoa. Until then, I naively thought that my kids were just oblivious to that word. They know some swear words, sure, but we don't use the r-word and I didn't think they were really exposed to it. I was wrong.

Addie and Andrew proceeded to tell me that they hear the r-word used on their playground at school. From their stories, it doesn't sound like it's used in a name-calling way, but more like an "Oh, I missed that goal, that's so retarded!" kind of way. I probably shouldn't have been, but I was stunned. But, the kids kept talking.

They told us that they correct people when they hear them use the r-word. We also learned that the accessible playground equipment is monitored by our kids, and when they see someone not using it properly, they speak up.

I was so proud to hear of my young advocates speaking up for what they know is right. But, I was sad to hear that this awful word is still so prevalent among young people. Why aren't more adults standing up against hurtful language?

I think it probably comes down to a few reasons. Topping that list: people still don't understand that the language they choose is important. When I correct someone for throwing out the r-word, I am usually immediately told "I didn't mean it that way". Do yourself a favor, and start paying attention to any derogatory language you use, and then make a real effort to discontinue it. This isn't something you do just for yourself; other people are listening to the words you choose, including your kids. If a child hears their parent saying something, then they probably won't hesitate to repeat it. Most times, they don't know any better, but the adult in this scenario should. This is a difficult transformation to make, but let's give it a try, shall we?

Beyond that, there are probably people who just don't care, and we can just hope that through our advocacy we can continue to change those mindsets. There are most likely others who think their kids would never say such awful things so they don't address it with them. This is a big issue, far beyond language choices. I don't think my kids would ever bully someone, do drugs, or steal from others, but we still have discussions about why those things are wrong. Why aren't we doing that when it comes to issues of respect? Even if you don't think your kids would ever use the r-word, it's still worth a conversation so that they know why it's wrong. This is how we build advocates.

I don't think this is something that will easily go away. Too many people think it's funny to use the r-word, and too many people find it acceptable to disrespect anyone who is different. This will not keep me from spreading awareness, though. From our dinner time conversation, I now know that my kids are on board with me, and for now, I'll take that as a win.

Lizard

Friday night. Dance rehearsals. Finally, dinner time. 

We decided to head to the Winking Lizard, or as my husband calls it, "the Lizard". 

When we walked in to meet Mark and Andrew, who went ahead of the rest of us to get a table, Al immediately launched into a meltdown. It's late; he's tired and hungry. When we made it to the table, I noticed the people at the adjacent table snickering and whispering as they steal glances at my kid. 

Not. Cool. 

Although I have no proof that they were truly talking about Al, I may have shot a look over at them to let them know I was watching. I do that. Knee jerk reaction, I guess. 

They saw the look, so I thought we were set. I then noticed the table of foul mouthed guys sitting behind us. 

I don't so much mind the constant stream of f-words, but when one of them started to drop the r-word, I must have had an obvious reaction. 

"That guy is so retar...stupid!" 

Lucky save. I am in no mood to let that one go. Right now they are slinging chauvinistic comments and I can feel my ears steaming. Ugh. 

Hopefully the food is good tonight. I've lost patience with everything else.