62

I have a son, too. Did I mention I have a son? Because I do. I think I referred once to his messy bedroom, but there’s more to him than that.

He’s a fine man and an important story. He’s an important story because fine men carry the burden for the unfine men. One male rapist too quickly morphs into All Males Are Rapists. No one feels that burden more than my son.

When my daughter was kidnapped and assaulted, my son didn’t know what had happened but he sensed it, and he got in his car and drove around looking for her.

When my younger daughter lost her foot in the train accident, my son came home from college and made our house handicapped-accessible.

When my son and his girlfriend had their first fight, he sat on the curb outside her home until she was ready to make up.

He believes in us, he understands us, he doesn’t give up on us, and he works to help us.

My son is not unique, I know that. Your son is good, and so is yours, and yours. In the midst of our political and social struggles, we need to acknowledge that our sons are supporting us. And we need to recognize that they carry a load of responsibility for things they didn’t do and wouldn’t do.

While I’ve given a lot of thought to how difficult it is to be female in these tumultuous times, I realize it’s equally difficult to be a kind, thoughtful male. The other type is still in power. The other type is likely to belittle my son and bully him and call him names.

What’s also hard to wrap my brain around is that thoughtful men give up their privilege, their advantage, the wind behind their backs. We feminists say, Oh, there’s so much in it for you if you liberate us, but is there? I mean, their perks paid out dividends for a good many millenia.

Except they don’t, if your son isn’t the type to “grab them by the pussy.”

When I turned 62, my son married his girlfriend and he shifted his focus from our family to his family. He is now his wife’s advocate and their 4-year-old daughter’s advocate. He is raising his own son, having to show him the way to negotiate a complex world.

Diversity advocate Vernã Myers told us, in regard to Black men, When you meet a Black man on the sidewalk, look him in the eyes and acknowledge his humanity. It’s good advice and I’ve tried to put in practice ever since hearing her say that. Now I need to try it on white men as well.

So that’s what we have to keep reminding ourselves: We can’t do it alone, and we do it for all of us together. This applies not just to women and men, but also Blacks and minorities, gays and bisexuals, young and old, religious and humanist, carnivores and vegetarians, Republicans and Democrats.

To my son, and your son, and your son, I say Thank You.