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Trying to keep kids sheltered from explicit content often makes it all the more enticing, whether it’s music, movies, or online content.
Back in 1990, I remember pleading with my mom that the appeal of rap music was all about the beat, not the explicit lyrics. But when she caught me jamming to Vanilla Ice rapping about an “8-ball,” she was having none of it. “Not today, Mr. Ice,” she declared, tossing my cherished cassette of To the Extreme into the trash.
At just 10 years old, I had no clue what an 8-ball even was. I thought it was that magical toy you shake to get answers about life’s big questions, like “Will I ever meet Luke Perry?” I had no idea that her confiscating Vanilla Ice was probably the start of my quest for the most explicit lyrics I could find. Isn’t it funny how attempts to control things in parenting can sometimes backfire spectacularly?
Fast forward three years, and Dr. Dre’s Chronic was blaring through my suburban home, making Vanilla Ice sound like a choir boy. I’m sure my parents were shocked by the barrage of curse words, wondering what on Earth their daughter was listening to. But I never repeated those words at school, knowing full well they weren’t appropriate for real life.
It took me three decades to finally understand my mom’s point of view. When my eldest started reading, she would spot “[Explicit]” on the radio and exclaim, “This one’s explosive!” prompting me to change the station. Adorable as it was, she was right. Those bad words felt dangerous, and I worried I was sabotaging my child’s innocence. But at the same time, they didn’t grasp why those words were bad, and frankly, I wondered how harmful it could really be.
As my children grew, I stopped trying to mute the curse words. Instead of singing “shhh” over Gwen Stefani’s lyrics, I’d get met with complaints that I was ruining the song. Their eye rolls made it clear they were ready for more mature content, even if I was still clinging to the idea that they were little kids. One moment, we were listening to Frozen 2 on repeat, and the next, my kids were blasting Snoop Dogg.
So what kind of mom lets her kids listen to explicit lyrics? The kind who prepares for bigger freedoms by allowing smaller ones. I’ve learned that attempting to keep them sheltered only intensifies the allure of things like music, films, or the Internet. Learning to check yourself before you wreck yourself—a lesson from Ice Cube—is something I want to pass on to my kids. I’m living proof that an occasional F-bomb won’t ruin them.
Looking back, I understand my mom’s worries that explicit lyrics could lead me astray. However, I turned out just fine and know when to use my colorful language and when to act like a respectable adult. I’d say she owes a nod to Tupac and Biggie for the life lessons. I hope one day my kids realize that when I was controlling the music, it wasn’t about hiding things; it was about preparing them for the next stage. If they’re going to listen to explicit music, who better to guide them than their cool mom?
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Summary:
The author reflects on her own experiences growing up with explicit music and how her parenting approach has evolved. She acknowledges the irony of trying to shelter children from explicit content and recognizes that exposure can be handled responsibly. The article discusses the balance between protecting innocence and preparing kids for the realities of life, all while sharing humorous anecdotes from her family journey.
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