I've been told that I have a pretty broad view of censorship; that I apply that tag to too many things in life. Those who have told me this are undoubtedly correct. I DO apply the censorship tag to too many things in life. I suppose it's because I'm that guy. You know that guy. He's the one who refuses to be told how to act or what to say (or not to say) to an almost obnoxious level.
Yep, guilty as charged. But allow me to elaborate and justify, if you will.
I was raised by a very open-minded and intelligent mother who was a bit of a rebel ( or a Jezebel) herself. She was, and still is, a good and decent Christian woman who had more than a bit of the nonconformist in her. The two things are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I think they go hand in hand. Jesus was a SERIOUS nonconformist. He was killed for it.
My brother and I didn't have a lot censored when we were growing up- movies, music, literature, etc. My Mom trusted us to be able to handle what was going on, be it in a make-believe setting or in the harsh realities of the world we live in. After all, she had the rug pulled out from under her by the love of her life and was left in the lurch as a single mom with 2 very headstrong and hellraising kids to raise on a secretarial salary. Brutal truth and harsh reality were the grinning, capricious devils that sat on her shoulders daily. We didn't make it easy, either. The cops and I were on a first name basis there for a few years. There was a seat in the principal's office that literally had my ass-print molded into it.
But, I digress. I also get off track quite a bit. Rein it back in, Stu.
My Mom let us discover the world for ourselves (within reason, of course). She let us enjoy horror films, too many videogames, risky books and magazines.....but more importantly, she never pretended the world was full of roses and sunshine. That was big. Huge, even. That fiercely protective woman was brave enough to let us go out there and fuck up. She didn't "helicopter" around us. And I say "THANK YOU, MOM!!". I wouldn't trade my childhood for anyone else's. My upbringing made me a fucking bad ass.
In a previous blog post, I told the story of my open letter to all of my classmates. That confidence came from Mrs. Morris giving me the metaphorical gun, but it also came from my Mom giving me the metaphorical ammunition to deal with the real world. I knew my eyes saw things that no one else did; the kind of shit that other kids my age weren't even aware of the existence of.
When you censor the world you are taking away a natural defensive posture that all people need. When you shelter your child from all of the temptations that exist then you make those temptations a million times more shocking (and inviting) than they would be otherwise. When you pretend that the world is all roses and sunshine and Nickelodeon in the afternoon you are systematically removing their natural armor.
In short: children are the most flexible, adaptable and capable creatures on Earth. There is no other time in our lives quite like the formative years. We see things plainly and unadorned. We have the ability to bounce back far better than our adult counterparts. Kids are naturally bad-ass. They have to be. They're low to the ground and often invisible; the monster could come along and scoop them right up and you'd not even notice. Kids have a way of getting right to the heart of the matter that no adult can match. They cut through the bullshit like The Bride with a new Hanzo sword.
I made a promise to myself and my wife that I would do the same for my daughter, Grace, when she arrived in this world. I promised that (needless to say but said anyways) that I would always be there to protect her from harm. Anyone who comes after her will end up in a million pieces. That is not idle chatter. However, I also promised to let her fall down and skin her knee. I promised to let her get her heart broken. I promised to give her the room to make a shitty decision and not judge her for it when she did.
Above all, I promised to be myself and never talk down to her and insult her intelligence. I was determined not to be the Dad who sheltered her from the truth of what the world was like and the truth of who I am. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I want her to learn from them. I want her to know what to watch out for. I tell her frequently (as boys coming to the door are now a reality) that the first one who reminds me of myself at that age is being turned away. I mean it, too. That's protection and not censorship. You don't invite the wolf into your home. No need to invite trouble.
Does that view of her (teen aged) father as a chain-smoking, foul as fuck, perverted horn-dog make her think less of me? I suppose you'd have to ask her to truly believe for yourself, but I can tell you that the answer is a resounding no. She's learned from a young age to see the layers underneath in a person, you see. She was shown all that there is, so she knows what to look for. She knows what the wolf looks like. She also knows what the good Samaritan looks like, too. She can differentiate.
Funny how that works, isn't it?
For what it's worth, I'm not telling you how to raise your child. I'm not judging your upbringing. If you were lucky enough to have the classic nuclear family then good for you. I'm sure it was a lot of fun being you, but I dug the fuck out of my uncensored early years. I know my daughter appreciates it. And she's a good kid; far better than I ever could've been. It amazes me.
My advice, though? Let your kid watch that violent action movie or scary-ass horror film. Explain the horrible thing they're talking about on the news instead of changing the channel. Teach them to appreciate comedy (especially stand up), the clean and the raw stuff. Don't give them the expression that Mommy and Daddy have never done anything stupid and irresponsible.
Parenting is full of enough NECESSARY HYPOCRISY without lying about all of the other shit. Your kid is tougher than a two-dollar steak. They can handle it.
