A couple of weeks ago, someone shared something in one of the Facebook groups to which I belong. Unfortunately, i have lost the post, but I can sum it up and why it set the gears in my head a-grindin’.
The post was a screencap of a tweet, written by a parent who had just informed their daughter that periods will repeat monthly for several decades. The daughter responded negatively. The overall tone was humorous and, as someone who has sometimes struggled with periods, I could relate. It wasn’t my first time viewing the tweet, and I was ready to scroll on by until I saw why the image had been shared to the group.
I believe the reason why this post was shared was to point out how potentially embarrassing it could be for an adolescent to have their parent share with the internet. Although it wasn’t explicitly stated that this is the case, one could reasonably assume so. It wasn’t the point of the tweet, which was to be funny, but the information was still provided with it.
The group’s response was torn. Because the majority of the members were left-leaning women, many made the argument that there is no shame about periods. So what if we talk about it? If someone knows that a person with a uterus is experiencing a normal bodily function?
On the one hand, I completely agree. There is no shame about periods, at least, they shouldn’t be. It’s not always so cut and dry, unfortunately.
But there is an element here that isn’t so much about the content but the privacy of this girl There’s no shame about her period, but it should be her choice what strangers know about her, and this has become an increasingly complicated issue thanks to the popularity of the Internet and social media. You can so easily reach people, but this also means that it’s difficult to know who knows what about you and what the intentions of those people are.
20 years ago, I had my very first website, a simple one-page, HTML-based profile that came with my WBS chat account. Since then, I’ve created dozens of websites and several blogs. I’ve shared myself freely with the Internet. Occasionally, someone would express concern over how freely.
But I wasn’t alone. Before blogs became avenues toward careers, were viewed as legitimate forums to discuss politics or inform the masses about the dangers of certain sex toy materials, or became this grown-up thing, they were almost always personal. And they were, on the whole, owned by preteen and teenaged girls like myself who were all talking about themselves unabashedly, finding community and acceptance, which was sometimes lacking in the face-to-face world.
We’ve come a long time since then, and I still talk to some of those people. Only, we’re not teenagers anymore. Many of them have become parents, and while few of us have blogs that we keep up with anymore, most remain active on social media.
I read the posts wherein people discuss their kids: pregnancy announcements, births, milestones, rewards, and frustrations included. It’s easy to upload a few photos or a video to Facebook and share with the entire extended family. For the most part, these posts are charming, sometimes funny, and typically appropriate. But sometimes they seem to ignore boundaries and step over lines. I wonder how these children will feel when they themselves become teenagers, and then adults, and stumble across what their parents have shared about them, how they’ve been bared to the world without their knowledge or consent. I wonder how it would feel that near and sometimes complete strangers know such intimate details.
So I understood why that tweet rubbed some people wrong. There’s a lack of awareness and an influx of attention that can lead to, what seems to be, poor judgment when it comes to sharing about your child online.
But the Internet did not start this. It only makes it easier to reach more people. Parents have revealed details that their children would prefer remain private since the dawn of time (I can only assume). I know because mine did, and aside from remaining frustrated about it to this day, the subject is actually relevant to this blog.
I lost my virginity when I was 18 to a boyfriend who I had met online (through a forum about a movie we both enjoyed, not an adult dating site as we were both still minors). I was living with a friend at the time, and he flew from Texas to visit me. Sexuality had been an important part of our online relationship and continued to be once we met in person. That we would have sex wasn’t a question, and the whole experience was generally positive. We would go on to get married, and I would create Of Sex and Love.
In the immediate aftermath of this, however, I was excited, giddy, serene. In short, I was experiencing happiness like I never had before. I had never thought it was even possible if I am being honest.
At the time, my relationship with my mother was strained, as it often is. But I wanted to share this with her. As my friend drove away from the airport after dropping off my ex, I called my mother. I wanted to reconnect and to share the way that daughters do with mothers, at least, they do in the movies.
But the conversation I had was a disappointing one. My mom didn’t pick up on this. What she did do was ask if we’d had sex. I answered honestly, but that wasn’t relevant in my mind. It wasn’t the purpose of that call.
I hung up, dejected. My mom and I didn’t reconnect then. In fact, things even got a little worse.
A few weeks later, I ran into my aunt. She had seen my mom in the interim. As I chatted with my aunt, she informed me that, upon walking into my mom’s house, the first thing my mom said was that I was no longer a virgin.
Now, this was years before the advent of any social media that my mom would use, and I doubt she would have said something like that online, but I still felt hurt that she was discussing my private matters without my consent. I may talk about these things and certainly to more people than just my aunt, but that’s my right, not hers.
It didn’t just sting; I felt a sense of betrayal that added on to my prior disappointment. My relationship with my mother wouldn’t improve anytime soon.
So it’s certainly not the fault of the Internet when people run their mouths that would be better left closed. People have poor judgment, even when those people are parents. They are not infallible. But those of us who strive to be better have a responsibility to at least try to be more conscientious than that, to respect privacy and boundaries, and to be aware of the impact of our words. And in a hyperconnected world, this is all the more important.
While there are things such as periods or sex that I believe we need to talk about more than we do and in smarter ways than we do, when these things pertain to specific people, those people must be involved in those conversations voluntarily.
Maybe the daughter in question from that tweet knew. Maybe she was okay with it or didn’t care either way. But as long as there’s doubt, we have work to do.
