Raising a Man in a World That Still Discounts Women
Parenting, patriarchy, and preparing our sons for justice — not just success.
In five days, my son will graduate from high school.
As I sit in the mix of pride and grief, I’m reflecting not just on who he’s becoming, but on the world he’s about to enter. A world that still, in 2025, pays women less. A world where caregiving is still dismissed as “women’s work.” A world where sexism is so normalized it often goes unnoticed — unless you’re the one living it. And, even then, it’s hard to peel back the layers and see clearly, “Oh my, that was sexist.”
We didn’t plan to become parents when we did, but from the beginning, my husband and I committed to raising our son with intention — providing a safe and stable home for our son. I’ve always been a feminist. My awakening started in middle school, when I first felt the weight of how my body was perceived, when I learned how policy shaped poverty, and when I began to see how gender showed up in every corner of life.
True story: I walked into sixth-grade social studies to complete a makeup test from when I was sick, and a boy yelled, “Wow! Look at those oranges referring to my developing breasts. I think the teacher scolded the student, but I don’t remember.
Now, as the mother of a white, middle-class, cisgender, straight-presenting boy headed into engineering — a male-dominated field — I carry questions. Have I prepared him well enough? What has he internalized without realizing it? And how can I continue to show up as both his mother and a woman working to change the systems that will shape him?
The World I’m Sending Him Into:
I’ve tried to prepare him for partnership. I’ve told him his future relationships must be built on mutual respect and shared responsibility. That 50/50 isn’t a slogan — it’s a practice. But at home, he still sees me doing more of the invisible labor. He sees me noticing who needs what. He sees me stretched thin.
At school, most of his teachers have been women. Brilliant, compassionate, capable women. And yet, in so many subtle ways, the world still tells him teaching is women’s work. That care is less valuable than command. And that some voices deserve more airtime than others.
We’ve had conversations about consent and about interrupting bias. We’ve talked about how “if it’s not a hell yes, it’s a hell no” applies to all kinds of decisions, but especially to sex. But there’s more to say. Like, who gets heard in the room? Who gets interrupted — and who never does. I’ve asked both my son and my husband to notice how often they interrupt me. They’ve gotten more aware, but awareness isn’t the end goal.
Change is.
What I Tried to Teach Him
I’ve tried to raise my son with a clear sense of values: equality, consent, emotional honesty, and care. We’ve had long talks about justice — about racism, gender, and how power shows up in daily life. Sometimes these conversations land. Other times, they bounce off like a rock skipping across the surface. That’s parenting — a mix of planting seeds and waiting to see what grows.
We’ve talked about gendered expectations, especially when they show up in relationships. I’ve told him that being a good partner isn’t about being a “provider” — it’s about being present. That folding laundry or making dinner isn’t a favor — it’s part of being a team. I say all the time, “It takes everyone in the household to make the household work.” He’s seen me name my needs, apologize when I get it wrong, and hold boundaries with love. He’s also seen the contradictions: the invisible labor I still carry, the ways I over-function, the moments I go silent to keep the peace. He’s seen me, imperfect and trying — and I hope that’s the most powerful lesson of all.
The Work Is Ours Too: Naming and Undoing Adult Patterns
We often discuss preparing kids for the world, but we don’t talk enough about preparing the world for our kids. The systems they enter, such as school, work, and public life, are shaped by patterns we either reinforce or interrupt.
In the workplace, sexism often hides behind professionalism. It looks like women being interrupted or having their ideas ignored, until a man repeats them. It looks like being asked to take notes, plan the birthday party, or smile more. It looks like leaders who are promoted for domination, not collaboration. I’ve lived that. I’ve had to advocate just to be seen, especially when I was leaving work to parent or refusing to perform constant availability.
In our movements, we often replicate the very hierarchies we’re trying to dismantle. Women, especially Black, Brown, queer, and disabled women, carry the emotional labor, the logistics, the relational glue that keeps things going. And too often, that labor is invisible, undervalued, or dismissed as “soft skills.”
And then there’s the work inside ourselves. The internalized stories about needing to be perfect, to prove ourselves, to earn rest. The ways we hesitate to name sexism because we don’t want to seem “too much” — too sensitive, too angry, too feminist. But those silences accumulate. They cost us something. And they cost the next generation, too.
Conclusion: What We Send Forward
Graduation is more than a ceremony. It’s a threshold. My son will walk across that stage — and into a world that’s both beautiful and broken. He’ll carry what we’ve taught him and what he’s absorbed despite us. He’ll make his own choices. But I want him to know this: the world doesn’t have to stay the way it is.
We don’t just send our kids into the world: we shape the world they’re stepping into. That’s why I keep writing. That’s why I keep organizing. That’s why I keep having the hard conversations, even when I don’t have the perfect words. Because love isn’t just about raising good kids, it’s about building a just world.
Let’s do both.
👉🏽 What values are you passing on — and how are you living them out in your work, home, or community?