If I ever have a son he will call me mom because he will know there was only ever one other person he shared blood with for the most important months of his life and that way when he ever wants to share blood with anyone else, he'll know whom to thank.
And I will paint forests inside his bedroom so that he will know even though my womb was his first house, nature is always the first place he should call home.
And he's going to learn that sometimes you have to be a little bit of an asshole to fight off all the other assholes. That sometimes it's ok to raise your voice when you are so afraid you aren't being heard and he will never be made to felt that being a man means other people should fear his emotions. Because he's going to learn that his feelings do not define his character. But they enhance all the experiences that will empower his personal growth.
And I will tell him, “baby, don't glare at the sky like that, I've spent too many years myself trying to blame an unfriendly universe for all the bad things that happen to me. It will only lead to trying to find all the maidens in castles screaming to be saved and there are just some dragons it is not your responsibility to slay.”
but because I am his mother he will defy my advice anyway so I will always make sure he has a way to reach me if no one else will validate his strength. And when he questions if he is a victim or an abuser I will remind him that he is neither. That we are only as capable as the labels we allow ourselves to wear. He will understand that his privilege is something he earned on his own. That it is ok if some women hate him for his gender because that is not his fault. And it is ok if some men love him for it because that is nothing to be ashamed of.
Sometimes he will blow shit up for fun. And some times he will manifest his dream wedding from magazine clippings and wear fairy wings to the grocery store. Sometimes he will howl at the moon and write poetry with the movement of his body. And other days he will ask me what made this whole thing worth it for me- this grand painful dance- and my answer (and he will know it) will always be him, because that's how my mother loved me.
I will teach him to say thank you by singing lullabies to the weeds in the front yard. I will teach him beauty by letting him guide out the limp body of a newborn calf. I will teach him to be gentle when the times come to be gentle. And to be ruckus and refuse submission when anything goes against his own moral integrity. And even if I don't agree with his own morals or integrity I will always tell him that I trust he is the only person who will ever know what is best for him. To never let a girl convince him otherwise, and to never let a boy persuade him different.
I want him to know that in the scope of humanity I am fall very far from perfect, that I am stubborn and whimsical in moments where it does not suit me. But he should never be afraid to try his own version of imperfection because there will be no standards cast against him about what way he chooses to live his own life.
That life sometimes is a burning coal, but if you grab it at the right moments you can feel all the warmth without getting burned. His greatest lesson will be that timing is everything. But I will make sure he never feels rushed to grow up. Or fulfill patriarchal ideas of what his manhood should look like and by the same token- feminist ideas of what his politics should sound like.
I will tell him to remember that his mother dreamed him long before he existed and he was never a disappointment and that his father is a skeptic who never had proof of god until he became a father. Remember that love will always trump any other action. That dogs have souls too. That bad things happen to good people all the time, but baby, I will tell him, remember that some times even you and I are not defined as good people.
I will tell him that an apology is always the last thing you should give when trying to right a wrong, but remember that verbalizing your thoughts will never be a bad quality to have. I will tell him that when he feels small, to know that the world and his mama have his back. And when he feels huge the world and his mama will be his biggest fan.
I will tell him that superheroes don't have to save lives or have big muscles. That his greatest educational achievements will not happen in a classroom. That there is such a thing as magic, and it exists in his smile. And he should never look in the mirror to ask “why won't you change” because whatever happens today will not determine the choice to be happy or proud of himself tomorrow. That I will always be proud of him.
And when there comes a time when he is faced with bullets or needles or bruises, when his heart knows what it's like to break, or when he discovers that there is only enough beauty in the entire universe to balance the small portion of ugly we sometimes witness in our daily lives, if anyone every accuses him of being stupid or insensitive or boring or sinister, he will know at least one thing- that even though all the atoms he is made of originated in the furnace belly of a star, along with every other particle he could possible see or taste or fuck or study, he is still uniquely individual, and will always be able to say that he may not be a star any longer, but he is my sun. If I ever have a son.
