Over the weekend my mom and I somehow wound up on the topic of personal privacy. Not the online kind or the kind that occurs between a human resource representative, a corporate contract, and an employee, but the personal kind of privacy.
The sort of privacy that rears its head just around puberty, and depending on the household, and parental flexibility, either lessens or reinforces itself through on to high school.
My mom remarked that my brother and I weren’t the sort to flee into our rooms and lock, barricade or close our doors as kids(of course later this invitation was rescinded the moment my brother and I started talking to the opposite sex, or more to the point, the day after we were allowed to have a telephone in our room).
Still, we were pretty liberal. We would hangout with our friends, play video games, or spend an afternoon doing homework, and depending on our noise level, which was pretty normal, the door would always be part of the ways open( just enough for my mom to poke her head in and ask which of my friends were staying for dinner). Of course when we were changing for bed, school or practice, we would respectfully close the door. No one wanted to see all that. Still, I just never thought about “closing my door” when I was a kid. I liked that it was open. That my mom could ask my brother or myself a question or carry on a conversation without a physical barrier in place.
We were kids, not angels or robots, but trusting kids. We never gave our mom, or grandparents, or supervising adult any reason to suspect our middling action to wonder what the heck we were doing. Paranoia aside, I just never felt as if someone NEEDED to assume I was up to no damn good.
But I said before, that all changed…later. In High School.