When Do You Have "The Talk"?

Oscar-nominated comedian Tig Notaro began her February program at The Lensic with her disembodied voice emanating from somewhere in the wings while she introduced speed painter, Amy Burkman.  From out of sight, Notaro claimed that her entire program would be done from backstage.  So began a wonderful evening of laughter.  

During her delightful and plentiful interactions with the audience, she inquired about when to have “the talk” as her twin sons were nine years old.  Audience members shouted out “When they ask” and “Never” and “Before puberty”.  Who was right?  When DO you have “the talk”? 

Notice that neither Tig nor I identified the subject of this talk, and yet you and her audience members all knew what was meant.  This proverbial parent-child interaction is a part of our societal lexicon yet even calling it “the talk” leads to two fallacies.  It is not a single event, and at its most meaningful, it is not simply disseminating information.  

Knowing now that there are multiple back-and-forth conversations, when do you begin?  Tig got a clue from one of her sons when he asked if a woman had a baby under her shirt.  Notaro provided hilarious imagery of a baby clinging to the woman’s body while being hidden by her shirt.  When your child has inaccurate, albeit humorous, information you can begin a clarifying conversation without making the child wrong.  Something like, “Good observation.  The baby is growing inside her body.”  

That may end up being a totally satisfactory response; however, if your child is curious and asks more questions, i.e., “How did the baby get in there?”, that is an invitation to go into greater detail. Remember the audience response, “When they ask”?  This is when! 

Let’s address the elephant in the room about “the talk”, and that is parental discomfort.  That discomfort is what compresses the prospect of multiple conversations about sex, biology, body parts, desire, intimate relationships, and intimacy into the hope of one sole download of sterile (no pun intended) information.  Let each moment of your own discomfort be an opportunity to learn what is behind it so that when your child’s curiosity drives some possibly unexpected questions, you are also curious as well as calm, confident, and clear. 

Another audience response was “Before puberty”.  One of the most brilliant things that you can do as a parent is to prepare your child for the changes they will experience.  Have conversations about what to expect in advance of puberty.  Knowing what to expect soothes your child’s system.  Let them know that they will grow taller, often suddenly.  Let boys know that their voice will change.  Let your child know that hair will sprout where none has sprouted before.  Introduce them to deodorant and healthy skin care.  Let your daughter know about menstruation and breast development.  Let your daughter know what changes her brother and other boys will experience and vice versa.  

Don’t sugar coat it, minimize the experience, or use child-like words.  Use accurate, anatomically correct language.  Share your own experience of puberty.  Be sure that you have processed any discomfort you might feel before chatting with your child.  

The remaining audience response that we haven’t yet examined is “Never”.  If you are considering “the talk” to be an isolated lecture, that response is correct.  Never have a solitary intense, dreaded, uncomfortable, disconnected oration.  Have a variety of talks inspired by your child’s statements, questions, and age.  Your child may start some discussions.  You may kick off others.  Find opportunities and notice segues, like that baby hiding beneath their mother’s shirt. 

Our children spark our own growth.  That is one of the beautiful benefits of being a parent.  Discomfort is a trailhead for self-discovery.  Walk that trail, and as Tig Notaro so cleverly reminded us, there is humor in all of this.