What If I Don't Want My Kid to be Politically Engaged?
Navigating open conversations and the state of the world.
The first time I remember having a politically engaged conversation was in 8th grade. A loud-mouthed boy a grade above me was squawking on and on about President Bush and all the good he was doing for the American people. The only response I had, and one that I felt was true, was “He’s hurting a lot of people.” Plus, The Chicks were ashamed our president was from Texas1 and I was their ride or die, so go away Michael.
I don’t have many clear or distinct memories of how my parents talked to or engaged me in politics before I went to college. I remember the ticking clock of 60 Minutes, the protesting by me that NPR was on in the car AGAIN, and the passionately toned conversations my parents had with my grandparents around the dinner table. But concrete details evade me. What sticks is that the truth was paramount in our house, and I was continuously told to keep my commitments and not hurt people. Access to news and information was on such a smaller scale when I was a kid. We were only allowed to watch cable television on the weekend and we didn’t have dial-up internet in our house until I was in high school.
While exposure was limited compared to today’s media landscape, I wasn’t completely unaware of current events. I had watched the Twin Towers fall on a TV on a rolling cart in my Social Studies classroom. I reflect back on that time with as much confusion today as I had in 2001. And as I navigate how to talk about The State of the World™ with my own kid, a linear, clear path is not what’s unfolding for me.
A staple statement in our house is “Many paths to the same place.” Meaning we can believe different things, hold different identities, or literally take a different road than others, but we all might have the same ideals and destination in mind. Along with that staple statement, I make it very clear that what is not ok is when someone tries to tell you (or you try to tell them) that this is The Way or that a different path (beliefs, identity, values, choices, etc.) is wrong. That’s a big Randy Jackson ‘No’ for our family.
We practice kindness, we do mitzvahs when no one is watching, we make cards for survivors with our small local chapter of Moms Demand Action, we put together toiletry bags for our local women’s shelter, and we drive by the protests and honk in support. My daughter has a Planned Parenthood Abigail Spanberger for Governor sign taped to her wall, but only because it’s pink. I did try and explain to her the candidates on the ticket and how they are working to support Virginians in an equitable way.
I talk openly with my daughter, and I draw lines in some places. I want to protect her from being fearful, which comes from my current fear of, well, everything. Because here we are, in the life and times of 2025.
After the devastating results of our most recent election, we cried in front of Quinn and told her how sad we were. And even as our state of affairs has continued to balloon to horrific proportions, I’ve also never explicitly said to her that our Donald Trump is the president and he’s a terrible person doing terrible things to the people of our country and to the world. Even though that’s what I believe—and there are so many examples to support that claim—something about it feels like stealing her innocence.
Logically, I understand how essential younger generations are to shaping and changing the world. And young people today are doing things. They understand their futures are at stake, and they want to be the ones to do something about it. And yet, I also understand that data continues to show that young people are more anxious than ever before due to uncertain futures and social media in a changing cultural landscape.
Am I the worst because I want to protect my kid from that anxiety? More directly, am I standing behind my privileges to hang on to some shred of comfort and safety?
poked a tender spot in me during her recent interview with when she said,What a privileged position to think that politics doesn’t affect you, you know? What a pleasure to live in absolute ignorance about the problems of the world around us and to think it’s not worth my time to care just a little bit about others. As they say on the internet, you might not do politics but politics does you baby.
I don’t practice ignorance. And I understand fully that we are all connected. I stay as aware and engaged as I can to not completely spiral into anxiety, dread, and doom. But I also want my kid to remain ignorant for a little while longer.
It feels like modern-day parenting reaches a new fever pitch each week. And I don’t think I’m alone in this feeling. How we are parenting right now, the thoughts and questions we are bumping up against, do feel, to state the over-stated, unprecedented.2
Here’s the constant running list in my head:
Is this something I talk about?
Do we turn our dinner table conversations with our 5-year-old to the current events?
Will she absorb our thoughts and values via osmosis and modeling?
Did she overhear something without enough context or understanding?
Do I need to bring my kid to a protest even though I don’t feel safe? But shouldn’t I be the one putting myself on the line because of the privileges I hold?
She’s at the age to start Hebrew school, but is it going to be a Zionist perspective and education? How do we tackle all that?
How do we explain the deep division of our country and culture while trying to also keep kindness as a family core value?
Isn’t it important for her, and us, to consider another side?
Will it ever be enough?
And then, another tender poke from fellow mastermind member
:[You’re] grappling with is a very common tension in parenting, which is working with our own big feelings while also holding space for kids to develop their own way of relating to the world. While many of us are having big feelings in response to politics at this time, they could just as easily be about other topics that are hard for adults to intuitively know how to discuss with kids, such as spirituality, sexuality, global warming, terminal illness, suicide, and death in general.3
I do feel like my kid is too young to be immersed in our divisive politics and consuming our constant, horrific news cycle. But I am trying to prepare and shape her for the conversations that will inevitably come.
Each day, I’m working to figure out what being politically engaged with my kid looks like. It’s holding both the “Do this now” and “I’m still learning” perspectives that drive action and reflection. To share another staple statement in our house: “Head up. Eyes forward. Heart open.”4 That guiding principle, along with just doing my best, helps me navigate the ever-present uncertainty.
Taking care of each other is embedded into our family system. I want to raise a kid who is engaged and wants to shape the future. I want to work ahead of my daughter and alongside her to make this world a better place. I want her, and myself, to remember that we can keep joy sacred, we can keep showing up, and we can keep hope that a brighter world is still possible. And maybe it’s the keeping of hope that my kid stays most engaged with.
Catch up on my other thoughts about being mediocre, boobs, mothering, the internet, and finding meaning in it all. <3
The Shut Up and Sing documentary is essential viewing.
I’ve gotten validation from my own mom about this. She feels like she didn’t have as much to worry about thirty five years ago when she was raising kids. While we are now more equipped to have open conversations about, say, race and gender identity, consistent mass shootings and authoritarian rule were not really on the menu in the 90s.
Why yes, this is my riff on Coach Taylor’s Friday Night Lights slogan.
I relate to so much of this. Thank you for putting words to some of the things I can’t.
It's so hard to know what to do!