Commentary
The shy kid who stands up to protect a mom who seems different
by Haddayr Copley-WoodsHaddayr Copley-Woods is communications director for a Minnesota nonprofit and a source in MPR News' Public Insight Network.
My youngest son is shy. Painfully, agonizingly shy. Picture Day is a torment to him; raising his hand in class an impossibility. I once suggested he take a too-hot drink from the coffee shop out into the subzero temperatures to cool it off and rather than walk past all of those strange people's eyes to the door, he stubbornly scalded his tongue.
And this poor kid wound up with a mom who attracts stares everywhere we go.
I realized my son was noticing this the summer before he started kindergarten.
I sometimes do this thing I call the David Byrne — based on his trademark dance move in the "Once in a Lifetime" video: with no warning, I jerk my head backward with enough violence that the rest of me follows suit, staggering backward like a recoil.
We were at a museum, which is often the perfect recipe for this symptom; I was tired, overwhelmed and surrounded by jostling people when I started to do the David Byrne like crazy.
I felt a chubby little hand steal into mine, pushing the crutch grip out of its way to grasp my fingers tightly, protectively.
I looked down and saw my 5-year-old boy glaring malevolently at a little girl of about 3 or 4 who was staring up at the twitching, flailing woman next to her, openmouthed.
Usually, when kids are staring, I stop and talk to them if they aren't too frightened. They have urgent questions about why a grown woman is behaving so strangely, or why she's in a stroller, or why she uses those sticks to walk. If their squirming, agonized parents will let them, I happily answer their questions to help them understand and feel less fearful of disabled people.
This time, I ignored the little girl and knelt down eye-to-eye with my son.
"Are you upset that girl is staring at me?" I asked him.
He glared at her some more, holding my entire arm in a painfully tight grip.
"It is rude to stare," he said.
She ran off like a jackrabbit.
I explained to him that very young children who have never seen anything like me cannot help it; it is only rude when adults stare. Nearby, several adults jumped guiltily and moved to other sections of the museum.
My boy was shaking. Furious. Tears in his lashes. A 5-year-old, feeling protective of his middle-aged mom.
Three years later, on an airplane trip, I am moving far more slowly than usual and doing the David Byrne like crazy. I'm sure people are staring.
"Who am I?" my son asks loudly as he comes through security. "Who am I?"
He leans painfully on invisible crutches, jerking his head back at irregular intervals, his curly hair flying in all directions.
I start to laugh.
"I'll race you!" he cries, and begins to run in slow motion, fighting desperately against unseen forces that slow him down as his head continues to yank backward.
Twitching and jerking, stumbling on real and imaginary crutches, the two of us make our way to the gate, roaring with laughter.
I can hear, in our wake, the somewhat shocked and helpless giggles from the people who had been staring in pity. I can feel them smiling at us.
He has completely turned the tables. I am in awe of him.
I have no idea how much it costs him, this extremely public display he uses to protect me as he did years before with his protective little hand and death glare — how much it costs him as an introvert, or how much it costs him as a kid.
I worry that I am conditioning him to be more concerned with my feelings than a child should be. I worry that his clowning whenever he feels uncomfortable might make trouble for him later in school.
But mainly I take it for what it is: a tremendous, creative, beautiful gift from my son. He says to the world, You wanna stare? Fine. But you'll be staring on my terms.
And they are his terms. And somehow, even as I worry, it feels right.
Comments (16)
Heartwarming :)
There is so much I love about this triumphant piece. The transformation from shy to shocking, the insight on standing out in a crowd, the parenting aspect of that -- and, of course, the David Byrne.
What an amazing story and an amazing son! I'm bookmarking this so I can keep coming back to it in the coming months. In 8 days I'll be coming out as transgender to my daughters, and very soon I'll need to help them navigate life with a mom who passes as a woman pretty well, but not completely. Then again, maybe they'll surprise me with a way to adapt to the stolen glances from strangers that I haven't even though of. Thanks for sharing your story, Haddayr.
Your kid is awesome! :-)
Your kid is awesome! :-)
Thanks for sharing that. Wonderful piece!
What a beautiful, beautiful family. What a treasure your boy is. Just like his mama.
Oh, wow. Your kid really is amazing. I salute him on his courage and his ability to push his own fear and shyness aside to defend you.
As for your concern - how do you feel when people stare? If you've gotten used to it (even though you still find it rude, which you definitely *should*!), I think it's more that he loves you, and also feels that they're being rude. Admittedly, I don't know your son, have never met either of you, but if I were him, that's what I'd be feeling. You're his mom, he's accepting of your differences, and he's advocating for you, pointing out to people who don't understand that you're human too.
And is he clowning whenever he feels uncomfortable, or just when people do rude things like stare at you? Because the latter is advocating, and I suspect that if he's doing the latter, he won't do the former. *shrugs* Just my viewpoint.
But yes, I agree completely with your last two paragraphs. You have a son to be proud of, one who loves you and respects you enough to push through his boundaries for you. (I'm Autistic, and shy and introverted partially as a result of that, so I have some idea of how hard it is for him to do that.) Congratulations to him. He deserves it.
Beautifully written
And a little child shall lead them ... I love this piece. Thank you for sharing such an intimate portrait! I feel a hope for humanity akin to the hope I experience for the earth when I drive into the mountains, or a seldom traveled wilderness.
Brought me to tears, but also reminded me of my own shy guy. When I wasn't able to walk at the Maui airport, he had the job of pushing the airline wheelchair. Maui's airport has a couple ramps. We were going downhill. He let go of the handlebars. I loved every moment, and saw several smiles from other travelers. It's one of the bright memories of a very illness filled trip.
Thank you
Your kid is awesome. I don't think you have anything to worry about with someone who comes up with such a caring, brave and creative solution to a troubling situation.
Lovely, Haddayr--
Still frosty here on the Neck Haddayr but your loving relationship with your son warmed my heart. No worries about this young man. Steel tempered by fired only gets stronger.
Beautiful. I bet that, as he grows older, he will transfer the lessons he is learning about defending you to defending other "different" people around him. He will be the one who defends his autistic classmates, who notices the wheelchair in a crowd and silently, subtly walk in front of it to clear a path, who will not stand silently by while someone is tormented because they are different.
In short, he is learning compassion, and he is picking up the tools he needs to wield that compassion in the most effective manner possible.
This is such a lovely story - great humor in the midst of a physical frailty that hides the deep inner strength in you and your wonderful son. What a joy to read. We have to do coffee. If anyone stairs, I'll do a David Byrne... or, better yet...your son.
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