Lessons on Vulnerability as Told by Middle Schoolers in a Music Program

Written from the perspective of Bear, edits by Fifi

In addition to coaching and teaching adults about Tantric Intimacy, Fifi and I work for a musical non-profit in Washington Heights. The organization offers culturally relevant after-school music instruction to public school students in grades 6-8, teaching symphonic music arranged by Afro-Caribbean and Latin American composers, and supporting students with upper-bound academic opportunities for high school and college.

This year the program had the largest registration in its 25-year history, and more staff was needed.

I joined the team as the Social-Emotional Coordinator because of my background working with children and young adults before becoming a full-time coach. When I first started working with kids, I was pre-social and clinical transition and visibly Queer. When going to the schools, I anticipated my students making snide remarks about my appearance and the parents taking issue with their children being taught spoken word poetry by a butch lesbian when they could be doing their homework or learning more about S.T.E.M. With all of this on my mind, I would show up to the school nervous and feeling disempowered. In my 21-year-old brain, the only way to feel empowered was for the children to “respect” me, so while I was a good teacher and mostly gentle with the kids, I had many moments of raising my voice and communicating with my students in ways that demanded obedience and, without realizing at the time, instilled fear. In retrospect and in working with children again, I realized that the part of me that wanted respect was the smaller part of me that wanted to be accepted when I was their age and was still eager to be accepted at 21.

Fast forward a decade later to this past October, post double mastectomy and well into my second puberty, Fifi asked me if I’d be interested in working at the school twice a week. It was an immediate yes from me because as uncomfortable as I felt in my body 10 years prior, I liked who I was working with children. Before, I worked with elementary and high schoolers. Middle schoolers would be a new challenge. When I think back to myself as a middle schooler, it was fucking brutal. I was bullied, I got into fights, and my shame was evident.

The pre-teen age is significant in sculpting our worldview. It’s when we become aware of how vulnerable we are to our circumstances while also developing a sense of individuality. It’s usually when we begin investing in relationships and sexual expression. We don’t yet have a lot of power, but we want it. It's when we begin to integrate and understand the difference between “right” and “wrong,” determine our moral compasses, and become uncomfortably aware of being perceived. The pre-teen age, a tender and visceral time, is when embarrassment, being cringe, or too vulnerable is a literal worst nightmare. Fifi and I describe pre-teens as pure emotional bodies, raw nerves, quick to react to control their circumstances.

I started at the after-school music program in October convinced that with my newfound body groundedness and years of experience working with vast populations, I would be immune to the snickering, teasing, and general disinterest in knowing me from middle schoolers. I was not. My attempt at an activity that asked them to talk about their feelings granted me side eyes and at best one-word answers. I was not the “cool” teacher. I was, and am still, a little cringe. Over the next couple of weeks, I struggled. I assumed I would be good at this and the kids would adore me the way they adored most of their music teachers.

I eventually learned that when I show up with a need for their “respect,” the more they push back. I learned that, whether I believe it in the moment or not, I am the one with power in this space, not them. My job is to understand them, offer them grace, compassion, and a safe space to be themselves regardless of their attitudes or rejection.

My “aha” moment was with a student with “behavioral” issues. He was causing disruption during the ensemble portion of the program, and the conductor asked me to take him outside and have a conversation with him. I escorted him out of the classroom, and the student was immediately reactive, sucking his teeth, rolling his eyes, and raising his voice to argue that he didn’t know what he did wrong. Instead of asking him to change his attitude to make it easier for me to speak back to him - I reminded myself, “I have power here, he doesn’t, and that must be really hard and scary for him.”

I asked if he was bored and feeling restless. He let out an exasperated, “YES!”. Rather than demand his obedience, I got curious with him and learned about his context. He lives with an ADHD diagnosis and typically is accompanied by a Paraprofessional during the school day. After our check-in, the student decided to move to a sports program, where he could move his body in the ways he was craving after a long school day of being told to sit still. I didn’t leave the conversation feeling like a hero or the coolest guy ever, but I felt gratitude that I set my agenda aside to hear out a misunderstood and frustrated 11-year-old. It felt good imagining I may have helped him feel less shame about having different needs from his peers.

These gifts don’t just happen with the more “challenging” students. I witness moments of resistance with more “agreeable” kids as well. One of the prized saxophone players was asked to sing in front of the full orchestra as part of his warm-up. No matter how “obedient” this student has always been, this was his limit. He couldn’t make a sound while being so closely witnessed. In my adult embodiment classes, we teach that sound-making is a tool for vulnerability, challenging grown-ups to push past fear and discomfort and use their voice in ways that make them feel silly. But do we need to insist that a 12-year-old, an already vulnerable body, do something that makes them feel more bare and perceived in ways they are not ready for, or can we meet them where they’re at?

This age is delicate in a new way. Pre-teens are no longer given the same graces as when they were younger while remaining at mercy to conditions and circumstances outside of their control. How adults respond to us when our behavior is reactive, resistant, or protective as pre-teens impacts our sense of emotional safety in the world and our relationships. Having affirmative references to accountability and not being punished or judged by those who have power over us, is crucial to developing trust and security in our caretakers.

In my work with adults, the emphasis is on “empowered vulnerability” and accepting where we don’t have power/control, but taking the risk to say or do the hard thing anyway. From the lens of Parts Work or IFS, many of us still have a scared middle schooler in our psyche wanting to run the show, come off cool, or seem unaffected and in control. Learning to respond compassionately to the childish parts of ourselves and other adults (as well as literal pre-teens) will reveal that compassion and grace do not have to be “earned” or “deserved.” If we cannot offer grace and compassion unless people act exactly as we want them to, we are stubbornly attached to maintaining power. Rather than clenching for control, attempt to understand and get curious about where the “difficult” or protective response is coming from. It likely stems from a time when we felt powerless and needed empathetic warmth from our caretakers.

As adults with personal agency, we get to create new family systems and parent our inner children. In adulthood, we get to choose our loved ones who become our caretakers in some ways and in varying degrees depending on equity and needs. Next time you notice yourself or a loved one feeling disempowered, challenge yourself to choose warmth and compassion instead of taking actions that attempt to control and over-power the situation. When our childish parts are activated, problem-solving rarely addresses the sentiments that need love and comfort. Sometimes, just being held, witnessed, and in acceptance of things being challenging are all we need.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of our inner middle schoolers. Although Corporate America encourages us to prioritize romance on this day, we hope this post reminds you that there is always room for more love and compassion for the most vulnerable parts of us. ♥️

Support the students of The Multicultural Music Group’s Symphonic Youth Program!

COMING UP:

Join us THIS SUNDAY February 16th on Live-Stream or in-person at the Moxy Hotel in Williamsburg for our Tantric Intimacy workshop and social in collaboration with Shag, a local sexy shop!

A Guide to Better “Fighting” is in-person interactive workshop at Hit Me Up on Wednesday February 26th, where you’ll learn and practice tools and protocols to not only get through conflict, but be able to use the conflict as a catalyst for closeness with intimate partners.

Thanks for reading! As always, we welcome your feedback, comments, and questions. We love hearing from you.

In love, service, & debauchery,

BxF