“Mommy, when I grow up, I’m going to be a cop.”
Tiny is infatuated with police officers. If he sees an officer, he wants to greet him, and then he’ll talk for hours about the flashlight attached to the officer’s belt. He’s met officers at the mall, at restaurants, and even waved to them from his car seat. One officer jumped out of his vehicle to hand Tiny a Junior Deputy sticker, along with a high five.
Tiny gets this look in his eye when he tells me he wants to grow up to be a police officer, a look that tells me there’s no deterring his chosen path–unless Iron Man becomes a real vocation.
When he gets that look, when his pretty, green eyes light up, and a tiny smile, filled with pride, adorns his face, a ball of dread forms in the pit of my stomach. I want to tell him to pick something else–anything else–because he has three things going against him in this liberalized world we live in today.
First, my son is a boy, which means he’s a male. God granted me a beautiful boy, with a grin that lights up a room, and a personality to match. But, that doesn’t count. Society is anti-male, and the trend is growing stronger by the day. Feminism hates men, liberal men hate men, and society is on this nonsensical bandwagon where they believe men need to atone for being born with those stupid YY chromosomes. According to these whack-a-doos, being male opens more doors than a woman will ever be afforded–even though the majority of women simply don’t want to open certain doors in life.
That fact is pesky, and doesn’t matter, therefore men are evil.
Second, my son is white. Everyone hates whites nowadays. Much like a line straight out of Malcolm X, liberals are of the belief that because our melanin is “white,” we are the devil incarnate. (Side note: read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Not because he calls all white people devils, but because it’s anthropologically fascinating. I could give you a whole list of books to read, like The Denial of Death, which states the theory that humans believe they are gods, and they are forever aggrieved to have anuses. Ernest Becker was a fascinating, crazy lunatic of a philosopher.) According to recent beliefs from the liberal and feminist regime, all white people should be standing at a whipping post, bereft over the sin of being white, even though we had no choice in our skin color, and no control over what any of our ancestors before us did.
Here’s a fascinating anthropological tidbit: just because the child molester at the park is white, does not make me a child molester by skin association. It doesn’t work that way.
Everyone has a crazy, drunk person in their family, but unless you’re that crazy person, it’s not your fault they’re crazy, even though they have the same skin. Unless you supply them with alcohol and pills.
Then it is your fault.
God wanted my male child to be born to me, therefore he had the misfortune of not being able to choose his skin color. He’s already got two strikes against him, according to our increasingly progressive society.
He can’t choose his gender, he can’t choose his skin color, but he’s got that invisible scarlet letter attached to his back by feminists and liberals alike.
My son’s third crime against society is that he wants to be a police officer. In this day and age, an officer cannot be male, and cannot be white. In this day and age, a white male cannot be a police officer. In this day and age, everyone hates cops.
Why? Because cops kill people.
How do I let my child know that the world is already against him for “birth defects” in which he has no control, due to some ludicrous idea of cisgender white privilege, and, because of that, his mommy does not want him to become a cop, in the event that one day he might have to draw his weapon, and then have to make a choice to take someone else’s life?
I might be a helicopter parent, but hindering his future life goal is probably a bad idea. Still, when he talks to me about becoming a police officer, our conversation goes something like this:
“Mommy, I want to be a police officer when I grow up! Did you see that cop’s flashlight? It was strapped to his belt! I’m going home to find my flashlight and put it in my pocket, just like the cop! Oh, wait! Do I own a belt?”
“Hey, Son Son, why don’t you choose something else to be when you grow up? What about a paleontologist? You like dinosaurs. You’d get to dig in the dirt, and find cool bones that are bigger than your whole, entire body!”
“Dinosaurs are dead, Mommy. Everyone knows that. They’ve found all the bones they’re going to find. And, I’m going to be a cop. Okay?”
Okay. So, yes. My tiny son is growing up, and making decisions about his life. He’s going to grow up, he’s going to learn about feminists, liberals, and some idiotic concept known as “safe spaces” for pansies, and what I’m hoping is that, somewhere along the way, his mindset changes. If I want my child to be hated for his job, I want him to be a lawyer in a court room.
What I don’t want him to be is a cop making life or death decisions that will ruin his future, or the future of someone else.