Early in the pandemic, my then four-year-old daughter and I were out for a walk and happened upon a neighboring house where a massive tree was being cut into pieces and thrown into a wood chipper. She wanted to watch the display, so she sat down in my lap on the sidewalk at the opposite corner of the street. Moments later, an exasperated-looking, middle-aged, white guy on a cell phone, standing next to a BMW, hung up his call and casually wandered over to us, lamenting to me how much the tree removal was costing him. Towering over my daughter and me, he moved closer and closer toward us, seemingly oblivious of our six-foot pandemic bubble of safety, little droplets of invisible spit flying from his unmasked lips. Nodding politely to his rant, I tried, in my cross-legged seat, to inconspicuously inch my daughter and me away from him, silently hoping that he would not step any closer.
As I leaned backward, watching this guy complain, the thought popped into my head: "Use your words! You need to show your daughter how to use her words," but I couldn't do it. I tried to will myself to speak but nothing came out of my mouth. Days later, I recounted this story to a female friend saying, "This is ridiculous! Am I so socialized not to make a man uncomfortable that I couldn't just say, 'Excuse me, sir, can you please take a step back so that you don't breathe a deadly, new virus all over my child and me?!'"
I've been thinking about this moment a lot while reading Kristin Neff's new book called Fierce Self-Compassion, all about how people—particularly women—can step into our active, sometimes even angry, "mama bear" energy as an expression of our care for ourselves and others. When paired with deep compassion and love, we can use this fierce energy to effectively protect, provide, and motivate.
Based on my experience with Tree Removal Guy, I'd venture to say that I particularly need to tap into that self-compassion in order to get over the barrier of shame that prevents me from doing the right thing. I mean, what was I afraid of? That he would judge me for being pushy or unfeminine? Granted, there are plenty of times that women wisely don't speak up for fear of physical or sexual violence or professional punishment, but, let's be honest, this was not one of those times. Instead, it was a prime opportunity for me to gather my courage, honor my fierceness, and protect myself and my child.
The next time such an opportunity comes around, I plan to seize it.
What are some examples in your life when you have—or haven't—channeled your fierce self-compassionate energy to protect, provide, and motivate? Share your answer in my free online community, Mother Den.
Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, and co-creator and co-host of Think Hard podcast, which brings fun, accessible, philosophical thinking to the real world. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.
© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.
