The phrase "boys will be boys" perpetuated the sexual, physical, and emotional abuse I endured as a girl since I was just 6 years old. That was the first time I heard those words after a boy pushed me down in the school yard, my face smashing into a metal picnic table and blackening my eye only two days before my first school play. I heard it again in second grade, when a boy who claimed he had a crush on me pinned me down to the grown and bragged to his friends. And again in 5th grade, when believe it or not, my first heartbreak happened after a boy told me he liked me too and then kissed my friend in the cafeteria. In middle school, I crushed for many months on a friend in our "inner circle" who also had eyes for a friend of mine. He asked me advice and confided in me daily, knowing what I felt. He led me one day to his basement and let me be more than friends, then asked our friend to be his girlfriend the next day. He strung me along for weeks, saying she did not feel the same. That is until he went too far at the park with me and then invited her to come join. They announced their relationship [yes even at that age] and I pulled away. Until I was called on once again and he used the story to his advantage, to cut me off from that circle and rumor how easy I was. For a long time after, I wanted nothing to do with my own body, nor did I want to date. Until a boy from a far town connected with me in a different way, emotionally and in friendship. We were together for months, just through phone calls and IM's. Until the day I got a phone call with his voice plus one, moaning and laughing to let me know we were done. I was told I was just easy. I was not pretty enough. I was too needy or not needy enough. I was too far or too close. I answered the phone not enough or way too often. I was too thin or not thin enough. Too popular or a loser. It was always me. On my 14th birthday I was already burnt out from "love". As an only child, with abusive parents and being constantly neglected, I was very mature but emotionally deprived. I knew how to travel alone, pay bills, cook. I knew how to care for my body, read books constantly and even went to planned parenthood alone. I was not "dumb", but I was naive. On my 14th birthday I was already burnt out from "love". As an only child, with abusive parents and being constantly neglected, I was very mature but emotionally deprived. I knew how to travel alone, pay bills, cook. I knew how to care for my body, read books constantly and even went to planned parenthood alone. I was not "dumb", but I was naive. Shortly after, I met a man. An actual man. Who treated me like a princess. And was my worst nightmare. He treated me so badly I cannot even offer crumbs here in detail. But I endured it. "Boys will be boys". And then I shriveled away. Until my best guy friend got tired of hearing me suffer and told me his feelings. He wanted to be my knight. He wanted to write a story, no a series. And we did. Literally. We spent all our time together, bonding as only children with parents who have problems. And we wrote out stories, poems and creative fiction. Fiction. Our story cut short when the main character became pregnant. And I became typecasted. As it turns out, his family all backed him up. "Boys will be boys". And I was told I made a choice no one else was willing to back up. I learned for many years after that I was prey to this concept. From cheating, to lying, to being manipulated. Watching and hearing friends brag about their partners while on social media, but crying in bathrooms and leaving classroom chairs empty while they skip school to attend the clinic, too late after betrayal. I kept seeking out better quality when I shopped, deciding I must have just settled before with what found me. Then I gave up, after the deepest connection I'd ever had led me to think he was the one, while he prepped my replacement for six months. "Boys will be boys" said their mothers, their friends, their bosses, their professors, their ex's even. That is right. A few exs had exs who reached out to warn me, then like an addict whispered "he is still mine". Because they perpetuated abuse and missed getting their fix. When I was told in the sonogram scan I was having a boy, all the blood rushed out of my face for a moment. While my sweet husband cheered with a tear in his eye, I was mortified. Speaking for myself, having a daughter as a single teen mom was a blessing. Being a girl and enduring so much made me feel ready and eager to be the mother of a female. But I had to break down my traumas, do a lot of reflection, take credit for HARD mistakes, and validate the things that were just PLAIN FUCKED UP. Boys. Men. Male species. You are all not broken, abusive and aggressive by nature. You are not monsters by DNA. Whether it was perpetuated, generational abuse OR lack of being taught and shown what is moral. Whether you learned it from TV or were high-fived every time you reported back someone's breast size. Whether there was no rhyme or reason, or you were bred to be a manipulator. "Boys will be boys" is no excuse for toxic, narcissistic behavior. Ever. To all the women who said this statement with absolute lack of regret, you have yet to learn a truth that will literally save lives. Toxic is toxic. It is not to be applauded. It is not on the victim. It is not a gene. It is not a personality type. No zodiac sign has this feature, no human map has the coordinates for asshole. No. Boys and men.....are humans capable of love, compassion, loyalty, respect, honor, dignity, and patience. And those who do not have those skills, are just bad. Excuses void. Boy moms, me alike, who care about morals and love will raise all kids to be good people.
Good, sweet, caring people. And speaking for myself, I will teach my kids about trauma and abuse. I will teach them what consequences occur. I will explain different types of damage and pain that can be inflicted. My lessons will be beautiful AND ugly. And I will never ever turn a cheek and mutter "boys will be boys" to anyone. Published by Jean Soto JS Jaded Savior blog: jadedsaviorblog@gmail.com
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AuthorJean Soto, mother of 3 and wife, is a writer + artist in the Hudson Valley, NY community. Archives
December 2019
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