Since your child learned to talk, she has been saying no. Often, my daughter says no when I want her to say yes. Noncompliance is frustrating, but I want to teach her to trust her own no.
What do I mean by that? I want my daughter to understand that when she feels worried or scared or overwhelmed by something, she does not have to do it. If she feels that something is not right, she does not have to do it. It does not matter who is asking her to do that thing. She simply does not have to.
Now, I’m not trying to engender failure, lack of confidence, or a fearful nature in my child. I am not trying to create a child who rebels against the world. But neither am I trying to give my daughter the idea that she should do everything that everyone asks her to, just to be brave or good or the same as everyone else.
A case in point: as a child, I went on vacation overnight to a friend’s house. At said friend’s house, a number of other children whom I did not know teased me until I climbed onto a roof and jumped off. The roof was low, and they were jumping too. However, they were not terrified like I was, and they didn’t tense up as they hit the ground. I was the only one who sprained my ankle.
What if I have trusted my no enough to turn around and leave?
Another case in point: as a child, I was told by another child that my sister was being bothered by some bigger boys in the forest. I came upon them, only to discover that they were holding her and a friend hostage in a little clearing. These were big boys, and she was a little girl. I felt a very strong no. I told them that this was not ok. I told them to let her go. I got punched in the nose. We had a fight, and all of those who were trapped got away.
I trusted my no and I got hurt. Sure, I could have done something different, but my no was strong and in my mind, the situation was dire. I still remember this as one of the most powerful and strong moments from my childhood.
Enter my daughter’s swim class last summer. It’s the last session of the class. The teacher tells my daughter that she needs to jump in the deep end and shimmy down a pole to the bottom. My daughter has never done this before. She is afraid. She feels like it is beyond her. The teacher tells my daughter that she’s disappointed and angry and that she needs to jump. My daughter refuses to jump and leaves the pool. I silently hurrah.
Why?
Because she trusted her no. Yes, I would like her to do what the other children have done. I may want her to jump, but she will do it in her own time. She will do it when she feels ready. It is more important to me that not comply and that she learn to challenge those who try to force her to do something that makes her feel bad.
I work next to a canyon where so many young teens have lost their lives jumping into the currents. The water is beautiful, seductive, and very cold: just right for a summer’s day. I wonder how many of those who jumped and lost their lives felt like saying no. If they had trusted their no, where would they be today?
Saying no is a life skill. It’s important for safety. It’s important for sanity. It’s important for developing moral character. And I want my daughter to trust in her inner no.