Bullying is awful and a big deal. I don’t envy kids today – thanks to social media, school bullying doesn’t end with the last bell and can cause serious psychological scars. But it’s not just kids who get bullied. There’s that woman who accidentally shared a picture intended for her husband with a whole Whatsapp group, who is being shamed by almost all of South Africa through the continual sharing of her picture. Or the parents of the kid who fell in with Harambe, who were blamed and accused of being bad parents. Or anyone who is shamed in shopping centers for breastfeeding, or for having a toddler throw a tantrum, or for going back to work, or for not going back to work… the list goes on and on.
I often write about feeling judged, about my continual affirmation that no one can tell me how to raise my kid. I’ve talked about not apologizing when Harley cries, or about how I know what’s best for my little one and how irritated I get when other people tell me that she must be cold or need to eat differently. I am adamant that every baby is different and that I don’t care what people do – if they want to use disposable or cloth nappies, if they opt for breast or bottle, if they stay home or work, if kids are put in creche/day care or stay home with a nanny or au pair. Everyone needs to make life work for them, and who am I to judge anyone for any of those decisions? So I’ve been a bit taken aback by a new instinct I’ve had.
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