STOP CALLING MY SON A HEART BREAKER

Ronnie Stephens
Jul 25, 2016
4 min read

When I was expecting my first children, identical twin daughters, it seemed that everyone warned me about the probing hands of strangers. They told me to be ready for people to stop me in the supermarket, for random grandmas to pinch their cheeks – namely, to expect the entire world to come for my girls. This terrified me. Doesn’t anyone worry about germs anymore? Turns out, preventing the spread of bacteria was the easy battle. The hard one came when I had a son.

For those who don’t know me, I have enormous lips. As one might expect, my son inherited them. He’s also got great skin, rosy cheeks and bright eyes. In short, he’s adorable. So what’s the problem? I have literally lost count of the number of people who tell him (and me) that he’s going to be a heart breaker. The crazy thing is that people say it with a smile. Um, what? Since when is raising a son who gains a reputation for hurting people a good thing?

I spend a lot of time thinking about the ways we reinforce gender, and hearing that word said over and over with syrupy voices got my wheels turning. What are we really teaching our sons when we equate them being adorable or handsome with breaking hearts? A few things come to mind: we’re teaching handsome men that people will love them solely for their looks; we’re teaching boys that it’s not only okay to make the people who love them sad, but that it’s inevitable; we’re teaching them that they don’t have a choice when it comes to breaking hearts.

Some might say that I’m thinking too much, or that babies can’t internalize those sorts of things. I certainly have a history for over-thinking things, but I’ve also seen my partner’s six-year-old son treated in exactly the same way was our newborn. With his fantastic hair, piercing blue eyes and endless supply of bowties, he, too, is six shades of cute. But he’s also old enough to understand the checkout lady who tells him he’s going to be a heart breaker.

We’re talking about one kid who can’t walk and another who just finished kindergarten. Nearly every time we leave the house, they’re being told by strangers that they’re going to hurt people. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m not trying to raise kids who believe that hurting people is a natural or unavoidable part of life. So why are strangers giving my kids a free pass? One could argue that they’re simply parroting our larger society, which applies the same language to male celebrities who make their fans swoon.

But really, am I being too serious? I don’t think so, and here’s why: I see the impact this language has on our youth every day. I’m a high school teacher, and I can’t count the myriad breakdowns my students have when a boy spurns them, or cheats on them, or leaves them for a friend. Yes, some of this is dramatic, but it’s also jarring. The general consensus is that the popular boys are going to break hearts, so they’re not expected to be loyal or committed. Girls, on the other hand, are instantly ostracized if they so much as flirt with someone else.

There’s a direct connection between the seemingly harmless praise of a baby boy’s gorgeous smile and internalized sexism. Yes, I made that leap. I made it because I see that connection in classrooms. I see it on social media. I see it played out in the press. Again and again, we excuse the Brad Pitts for having affairs and then shame the Taylor Swifts for dating around.

Even if we’re being generous and argue that women, too, are called heart breakers, we’re still communicating that attractive people can’t avoid hurting people. This removes all choice and agency, an especially dangerous mentality for young people. Do we really want to teach our kids that people will love them solely for the way they look? What then, is their motivation to be kind, engaged, and giving partners? Moreover, do we want to place blame for the trail of broken hearts on their beauty? Not only does this excuse them for self-reflection when they actually do break hearts, but it also puts them at fault when they don’t reciprocate an admirer’s love.

The solution is simple, really. Instead of fixating on the relationship, focus on the kid. Give them the language to love their bodies and the space to shape an identity outside the heart breaker. Celebrate the insanely cute toothy grin and fawn over the doe eyes. Tell my baby he’s gorgeous, or adorable, or a stinker. Tell my daughters they have perfect skin, or ruddy cheeks. Tell our son that he’s the most well-dressed kid in kindergarten. Just don’t tell him that he’s bound to break hearts. We’re raising better humans than that.