The Parenting Philosophy That Raises Eyebrows—And Even Better Kids (Part 2)
Still Unpopular, Still Unconventional, and Still Worth It
The expert who told me to change my Substack’s name because "nobody wants to be unpopular" may have had a point. (Read about it here.)
But as I explained in Part 1, some of my best parenting decisions have also been the most questioned.
Turns out, trusting myself over conventional wisdom has paid off.
But beliefs alone don’t raise kids. What matters is living them out.
The lines we draw. The standards we set. The boundaries we refuse to cross. These choices define us—not just as parents but as people.
So… this is where things get even more unpopular.
It’s OK to Defend Yourself.
Not as the first option. Not because it’s the easiest. But as the last resort—when every other option has failed or when immediate safety is on the line.
I used to tell my daughters what most parents say: Just walk away. Tell a teacher. At first, I believed that was enough. But I quickly learned it wasn’t, and I wanted them to know their own strength—not just physically but in every way that mattered.
So both girls learned to defend themselves through martial arts.
My oldest earned her black belt. My youngest, two years behind, worked her way to a second-degree brown belt. They trained for discipline, confidence, and control.
These girls know how to fight—which means they also know when it’s appropriate.
In our house, there were two non-negotiable rules:
Know your capabilities.
Their skills weren’t for play. When they were younger, I had strict rules against kicking when wrestling because they had been trained to disable, not just defend.Know when to use those abilities.
If all else failed—if they had done everything possible to avoid escalation—they had my full permission to defend themselves. And they knew I would have their back.
The process was simple:
Remove yourself if possible. Walk away, disengage, create space.
Escalate to an authority figure if available.
If it happens again, give a clear, direct warning—not a vague “stop it,” but “Do that again, and I will kick you in the shin.”
And if it happens again? Follow through. Connect. Make it crystal clear you will not be an easy target.
This mattered in school, where subtle but persistent bullying often slipped through the cracks. But it’s just as critical now as they move through life as young women.
As I write this, my daughters—weeks from turning 18 and 20—are at Stubb’s in downtown Austin at a Role Model concert. And I know, without a doubt,
they aren’t accepting drinks from strangers. They’ve already clocked the two closest exits. And if some belligerent guy gets grabby, they’ll throw a discrete elbow in his direction—without hesitation.
Because what starts on the playground doesn’t end there.
The kid who shoves you in the hallway grows up into the boss who crosses the line. The stranger who won’t take no for an answer. The date who assumes you’ll just take it. If you don’t learn when to fight back as a kid, you’re left figuring it out as an adult—when the stakes are even higher.
Girls are still told to be polite. To be understanding. To not make a scene. Sometimes Most times, that’s the right call. But occasionally, the right move is to stand your ground.
Some people don’t play fair. And you damn sure have my permission to defend yourself.
You Don’t Have to Be Friends with Everybody.
Kids today are taught that inclusion is everything—and it is important. But somewhere along the way, inclusion started getting confused with forced friendship. And that’s an unfair burden to place on anyone.
We tell adults, “Better to have four quarters than 100 pennies,” because we understand that deep, meaningful friendships are rare. So why don’t we apply the same wisdom to kids?
Maybe all the drama—the hurt feelings, the social struggles, the endless attempts to force everyone to just get along—happens because we keep trying to manufacture relationships that were never meant to be. We push kids into friendships that don’t fit. We do the same to ourselves, forcing connections that drain us instead of fulfilling us.
Respect is necessary. Kindness is nonnegotiable. But friendship? That’s a choice, not an obligation.
Real friendships aren’t just about proximity or politeness. They require trust, shared values, and a willingness to show up for each other. And most people can do that well with a few—but almost no one can do it well with everyone.
And the reverse is just as true: I won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. And that is more than OK.
So often, we push kids (and ourselves) to morph into something we’re not just to be liked. But if being accepted means shrinking into a version that doesn’t feel true, is it really worth it?
And honestly—the people who don’t like me? I probably don’t have much interest in them either. Not because they’re bad people, but because we simply don’t connect.
And that’s fine.
Not everyone is meant to mesh.
Let it be.