A Letter To My Daughter

And anyone else who cares about women and choice

Michelle, Doug, McKenzie, and her dog, Mia - Sequim, WA

Early in my early adulthood, I made a choice not to proceed with a pregnancy that would have severely diminished my spirit. Regret never entered into the picture, then or now. Instinctively, I knew it would not have ended well for me or the young man in my life at that time. Living in a judgemental midwestern small town, I was ill-equipped mentally and physically to deal with the stares, the disappointment, and the financial responsibility.

Continuing my nonconformist ways, I deliberately decided not to have children at the beginning of my marriage. It would have been impractical as we struggled financially while completing our education and moved several times across the country during those first years. I wanted things for my life that would not have been attainable with children in tow, and I was not concerned with my biological clock ticking away as I entered my 30s. This cultural ruse guilts women into staying home to raise children and keep a house, only to fade into the background—all part of some archaic patriarchal plan. I would not be duped.

Growing up with three other siblings prompted me to explore a world beyond a crowded family unit. I was never content with the status quo or the unfair and discriminatory expectations hoisted upon the female psyche.

At 34, slipping into relative comfort, we chose to have a child. I might add, partly because others around us were starting their families. It was one of the few times in my life where I dipped my toe into the collective pool of crowd mentality. However, it was not because I feared missing out; I knew following parenting norms would not be a goal. And frankly, having children was a risk because I didn’t possess much in the way of motherly instincts. My role as a big sister was not what you would call a stellar performance, and babysitting was my least favorite activity as an early teen. Puberty had mired me in a heap of anger and angst, and caring about others was too much for my self-absorbed state of mind.

So, the question remained about the real reason I chose to have a child at all. It became crystal clear later in life and during the most trying times.

My only child was born after nine years of marriage. I was 35 (an older-than-average Midwest parent in the 1990s), and my daughter came into my life just when I needed her and not any sooner. But whether bringing a little human into the world was a good idea still loomed large. If I were in the same position in today’s anti-female rights environment, there is little chance I would consider the notion.

Our beautiful girl became an extraordinary combination of her dad and me: smart, witty, empathetic, (over) analytical, realistic, funny, contemplative, independent, stubborn, expressive, creative, passionate, nature and animal lover, and spiritually aware. Although, her independent and stubborn streak led to many intense and challenging times. There were times I wanted to run far, far away, never to be found, but I chose to stand by her because we were connected in ways I never expected. Deep within my soul, I felt she would emerge from the fog with resilience and strength; it took time and a boatload of patience. The struggle was hers and only hers to resolve. She ultimately found herself. It was her choice; my role was to listen and provide compassion.

Now that she is a grown woman ready to take on her world with the knowledge and experiences she has worked diligently to acquire and will continue to obtain, she is met with the very same issues I confronted and still confront: misogyny, sexism, bodily autonomy, lack of respect, and personal rights.

This happens when complacency seeps into our veins, and a desire to be comfortable counters the need for active engagement in the continuous fight for our rights. I have been guilty of this at times, as I suppose we all have been at one time or another. On the flip side, because of struggles, experiences, and the environment I grew up in, I’ve become a solid role model for my daughter and other women who have crossed my path. Talking the talk and walking the walk throughout my work as an artist, college professor, friend, co-worker, and mother has been a strength.

The world continues to devalue women and their worth despite the inroads that have been made. Two steps forward and what seems like a million backward, my daughter is all too aware of the environment she is entering. This makes me incredibly sad for her, her generation, and future generations.

I have worked (not always successfully) to avoid sacrificing my desires because of irrational societal norms placed on women. There were times when I had to give up a little of myself. But I knew in my heart that chances to regain the essential parts of me would return. Immense power and energy have always been within me; we all possess it. Acting upon that potential is imperative, and it becomes our hope.

Women have displayed tremendous courage throughout history despite not being given credit. I believe this is our secret sauce. The world needs and requires female spiritual energy. Our male counterparts must recognize that we are not the enemy but partners in this crazy game. Fearing women only makes our gender more resilient, courageous, and willing to fight for the future of our daughters and our communities.

I am not a man-hater; I am a feminist who believes in the power and strength of women and the value of all people. What makes me crazy angry is behavior that equates strength with power over others, behaviors that promote personal value over collective value. Behavior that leads to the abuse of anyone for personal revenge, gratification, or out of pure hate. These behaviors are deeply rooted in trauma, fear, and anger, behaviors often directed toward and because of women. Until we recognize and deal with those underlying issues, providing a safer, more respectful environment for victims of these behaviors will continue to be challenging.

I am confident that this dysfunctional and ineffective cyclone, which is making life for many unbearable, is coming to a head. Women are aware, and my daughter is aware. My hope lies with her and her generation.

Michelle Lindblom