A Feminist Mom Educated by her #MeToo Generation Daughter

A photo of 2 pink colored boxing gloves lying on the floor.

When my teenage daughter Tallulah called me from school, I didn’t expect her to be asking me to come meet her — in the principal’s office. “Mom, I need back up.” she said in the matter­-of-­fact way that girls on the verge of becoming women try on during moments like these. Tallulah and two friends had just walked out of gym class because of an offensively sexist t­-shirt. Their gym teacher, Mr. Jones refused to insist the boy wear the t-­shirt inside out. I surprised myself by thinking, “Whats the big deal? Just ignore it.” But like a neon sign the phrase, “internalized sexism” flashed in my brain. I became curious, why am I annoyed with my daughter, when she’s the one being done wrong?.

“A girl speaking out could get her face bashed in.”

– Mr. Jones, High School Gym Teacher

Dropping everything, I came down to the school. Tallulah sat erect describing how girls were nit-picked about their adherence to the school dress code, called out for torn jeans, a scoop neck top, or a shirt revealing mid-­drift. The female assistant principal took notes. Tallulah elaborated how, “Boys are allowed on the field shirtless, wear torn clothes and egregiously sexist t­-shirts”, with no repercussions. Indignantly, Tallulah stated the T­-shirt’s slogan: “Cool Story babe, now go in the kitchen and make me a sandwich”. The girls also documented Mr. Jones’ suggestively lewd comments while coaching wrestling lessons and that he’d told them, “Don’t dress provocatively – you’ll attract child molesters.”­­ which when stated aloud sounded creepy.

During the t-­shirt confrontation Jones warned: “A girl speaking out could get her face bashed in”. Tallulah took a deep breath. I was astonished. “He said that in front of the entire class?” Tallulah eyes were lucid, “Yes. His message is to shut up. Men can get violent if a woman is too uppity.” The assistant principal confided this wasn’t the first time she’d received complaints. My ears pricked up. I felt a fire in my belly. I insisted that the girls be transferred out of his class immediately. I started rifling through my mind, wondering if I had any attorney friends to help right this wrong. Its been been 5 weeks since this incident. But not much has happened. My lawyer told me Mr. Jones has violated Title IX because our daughters weren’t afforded an equally safe educational environment. On his advice I have escalated it to the superintendent’s office.

Yesterday morning, as Tallulah ate oatmeal, I sipped coffee. Her eyes clouded over. “No one seems to care about what Jones did. Some people tell me I should let it go.”

Watching her look of confusion, a thousand past wrongs flashed before me like lightning. My daughter instinctively demanded a level of respect that I admittedly have felt so gaslighted around —that clarity at times has been murky.

“Baby”, I said, setting down my coffee, as the exhilaration of caffeine hit my blood stream, filling me with fight, rage and even hope.

It ain’t over by a long shot.