The Ebola virus has arrived in New York City, bringing with it the fear that has been cascading around the globe. I am certainly not vaccinated against the paranoia that follows the virus and already see how it has infected my parenting.
The night the first case was announced, my 16-year-old daughter and I were in Manhattan, about to catch the C train back to Brooklyn. Instead, I sprang for a cab amid rumors the patient had ridden that particular line.
I like to think of myself as a mostly steady, consistent and unflappable parent, but that small change in our usual routine made me realize how my decisions are impacted by my sense of security.
This isn’t the usual sort of thing, like not letting her go to a certain friend’s home because I know there’s no supervision there, or how late she’s allowed to ride the subway. Those decisions, I like to think, are based on my weighing risks and defining a comfort zone for my girl to exist in. They also tend to remain the same, week after week.
What I’m embarrassed to admit is that when the world feels scary and out of control, I try to exert command over my small domain, including my daughter. It’s been quite an unsettling year too – from increased tensions with Russia pushing my Cold War, childhood panic buttons of nuclear Armageddon, to the seemingly unstoppable spread of Isis and the steady proliferation of Ebola around the world.
In this environment, I approach my teenager’s requests differently. When she wants to practice driving all around Brooklyn I balk, taking her, instead, to quiet suburban streets or large, empty mall parking lots. When she wants to go see a movie that ends particularly late and walk home with friends, I say they have to call a car.
I may not be able to keep deadly viruses from our shores, but I can make my girl be home by a certain time, giving me the sense of order and authority when, really, I have so little.
The important realization is that the world will never be without its crises, whether I’m aware of them or not. Instead of acting on my fears like unspoken secrets, perhaps I should talk with my girls about them. Then, instead of responding to my secret cues, and taking on my fears, she can consider and, hopefully, dismiss them.
Whether I feel safe or not, I’ve got to give my kids leeway to take risks. Otherwise, how will they grow and learn?
More importantly, to be the best dad I can, I need to acknowledge what I’m reacting to so I can get back to my mostly steady, consistent parenting.
I guess it’s time to let her take me driving around Brooklyn. Besides, I don’t think she can get Ebola from that.
