My mom always taught me to be sweet and polite and cross my legs

The words of Tiffani Thiessen, “My mom always taught me to be sweet and polite and cross my legs because it's what the guys like. Actually, they like a raunchy girl once in a while,” are layered with both humor and critique. Beneath their playful tone, they reveal the tension between the traditional expectations placed upon women and the reality of human desire. She points first to the teachings of her mother, rooted in a world that prized decorum, gentleness, and ladylike behavior as the surest way to be admired. Yet she then adds her own observation—that men, and indeed people in general, often seek not only propriety but also authenticity, wildness, and spirit.

The origin of this thought lies in the way society has long shaped women’s behavior through instruction from childhood. Mothers, with the best of intentions, often taught their daughters that femininity must be wrapped in sweetness, modesty, and politeness, for such qualities were thought to ensure approval and security. To “cross your legs” was not only a gesture of propriety but a symbol of restraint, of keeping passion hidden. Thiessen’s remark both honors her mother’s lessons and gently subverts them, pointing to the fact that such carefully constructed behavior does not tell the whole story of human attraction.

This duality can be found throughout history. Consider Mary Wollstonecraft, who in the eighteenth century rebelled against the idea that women should be educated only in charm and modesty to please men. She argued in her Vindication of the Rights of Woman that true worth lies not in pleasing others, but in cultivating strength, intelligence, and individuality. Thiessen’s playful comment stands in that same lineage, reminding us that to be admired, one need not only be polite and sweet, but can also be bold, spirited, and unafraid of breaking convention.

At the heart of her words is the recognition that authenticity is attractive. While politeness may create harmony, it is the spark of individuality—the willingness to be witty, daring, even “raunchy”—that ignites true connection. This does not diminish the value of good manners, for respect and kindness are enduring virtues. But it does point out that human relationships thrive on more than restraint; they thrive on honesty, vitality, and the courage to reveal the full spectrum of who we are.

There is also wisdom in the humor itself. By framing her observation in jest, Thiessen softens what could be seen as a criticism of her mother’s teachings. She shows us that traditions can be acknowledged with gratitude, even as they are questioned or adapted. This balance is vital: to honor the past without being bound by it, to take what is good while daring to evolve beyond its limits.

The lesson here is profound: do not confine yourself to the expectations of others, even those passed down with love. Sweetness and politeness are virtues, but they must not smother your spirit. To live fully, one must learn to be both gentle and bold, modest and expressive, courteous and authentic. It is the harmony of these qualities—not the dominance of one—that creates a life of strength, joy, and true connection.

Practically, this means embracing your whole self. Be respectful, but do not suppress your humor. Be kind, but do not hide your passion. Allow yourself to laugh loudly, to speak boldly, to live honestly. Teach the next generation that they need not choose between being “ladylike” and being authentic—they can be both, and more. In doing so, we free them from the narrow molds of the past and open the door to a fuller, truer humanity.

Thus, Thiessen’s words, though playful, carry the resonance of ancient wisdom: the art of life is not only in restraint, but in authenticity. A woman is not defined by how perfectly she sits or smiles, but by the wholeness of her being—the sweetness, the boldness, the gentleness, the fire. And in embracing all these facets, she not only honors her mother’s teachings but transcends them, creating a new legacy for those who come after.