You broke the internet this weekend. You posed for a cover of a magazine and fully exposed your derriere for the world to gawk at. It's not the first time you've given the masses something to get bug-eyed about, and I'm certain it won't be the last. But, you broke more than the internet - you broke my heart.
From what I can tell, you and I only have one thing in common - but, it's a big thing (no, not that big thing, my flat booty holds no contest to your curves). We're both mothers of girls. We're raising females in a world where individuals with money, looks, and power are considered "successful".
We're raising girls in a society that values dominance and accumulation over integrity and virtue. And while you and I might stand at very opposite ends of these spectrums, I would gather that you know these things to be true even more than I do. You're in it. You're living it. You are the proof that these things get noticed, shared, and applauded.
But, here's where we part ways. I don't get how you can do use your platform in that way and raise your daughter in this world. Why, Kim, why?
There's an astronomical amount I want to teach my daughters, and not one of them has to do with the size of her ass. I want my girls to know they can be smart and beautiful, full of integrity and authoritative, compassionate and assertive, and while they can play with their Barbies and watch Disney Princesses fall in love, they hold so much more in their unique little hearts than their body will ever ever ever be able to reflect on the outside. They are more than their booties. More than their someday-breasts. More than their clothes, hair, or perfect skin. Barbie ain't got nothin on my babies!
Kim, you are more than your backside. You may have first been noticed in the celebrity world because of your curvy booty, but you are greater than the sum of your parts (or one part in particular) if you'd give us a chance to notice that too. We have NO IDEA who you really are, and you aren't helping us get to know you. In fact, your backside is preventing us from seeing who you might actually be, and the platform you've been given in this life could be used for so much more for our daughters.
We live vastly different lives, no doubt. But, you and I have girls who would laugh and play and share silly stories about tutus and dolls if we got together, I guarantee it. They would color pictures, sing songs, and at the end of the day the glare of the world's view of their value would melt away in the sound of their giggles. We're not just raising girls, we're raising future mothers too. No matter what they grow up to look like - whether they have model curves or model noses or model waistlines, let's remember this - we're raising the next generation of role models.
If you could do me and mothers everywhere a favor and just sit on that truth (pun intended, of course) then maybe you can gain some perspective of how crazy and massive this whole parenting thing really is. I'm not here to hate you cause you're pretty or bash on you cause of the choices you've made. This isn't some call to judgement about why I think you're a terrible person. It's an invitation. An invitation to engage more than your looks and your power - an invitation to take a step towards empowering the girls we're raising to someday become leaders and rockers and artists and musicians and scientists and engineers who change the world for the better.
Then maybe we'll see magazine covers of women exposing their brilliance rather than their bodies. Maybe it's possible. Maybe you could help.