So, this is a rant – it might not make a lot of sense because it’s not really pre-written with points I want to address. This is all just flowing.
There is, of late, a lot of talk on the popular feminist blog Bitch (a personal favorite of mine), about the genderpocalypse, or the end of standard gender rolls. This, as a liberal artist, makes me giddy – parents raising their kids genderless? Holy cow! What better way to bring up your kid; there’s nothing wrong with liking dresses AND tonka trucks, my darling offspring. You can like whatever you want!
For as much as feminists seem to encourage either-gender activity or dress (this would be the genderful parenting), I still see a lot of negativity associated with these things when applying them to their originally perceived gender. For instance, the Color War (which, for the record, I think is a little ridiculous) about pink and blue and how color influences your kids on a societal level.
Dressing your female-assigned-at-birth child in dresses or anything pink might pressure them into behaving feminine. However, if my male-assigned-at-birth is put into a dress, is that not just as unfair as an escapade? It’d be one thing if it were like the old days, when every baby wore a white frock because it was the easiest outfit for a small developing human. Or even if the child chooses to wear this hypothetical gender bomb that is a dress.
I feel, lately, that in the feminist universe, raising your kids as a girl or a boy is some dreadfully mortal sin – and I can understand a little bit of the feeling. You want your kid to be comfortable with themselves no matter what gender they are. Don’t let the fact that you’re a girl keep you from playing football. Or, don’t be afraid to join that dance class because you’re a boy. That’s the whole point of gender-neutral/genderful parenting. Gender, essentially, doesn’t determine who you are as a happenin’ human being.
But… it also makes me feel dirty.
I was raised in a fairly conventional manner. As a girl. I was raised on hand-me-down clothes (a lot of them boy clothes though, if that matters). I ran around outside and helped my dad in the garden and went fishing and my stuffed animals routinely went on adventures that involved near-death booby traps and poison darts. I was not your typical girly girl. I got my period. And boobs. Those were really the two “magically female” things that I encountered growing up as a girl. And my parents didn’t give a hoot, I was a cool little kid and that’s all that counted!
Later on in my life when I started dabbling in a lot of “typically feminine” activities — like wearing dresses and makeup — I felt really weird and uncomfortable because I was never really into all that shit. So whatever, back to jeans and a t-shirt for this little tomboy!
Maybe it’s a little nonsensical of me to feel this way, but I almost feel like the GNP idea set demonizes conventional parenting (because everybody’s idea of parenting is completely the same, of course).
I turned out pretty okay. Or maybe that’s the gender-reinforced brainwashing making me ignore that I might possibly not be a girl at heart. The only way I could know who I am at all is if I was raised in such a way that I got to explore all ranges of activity and dress and options of preference! Oh wait, that’s my whole entire life so far.
And for the record, I love the color pink.
I hope to regroup and actually make this into a logical topic, but for now, enjoy the ramble. And as always, don’t forget to spread the work, and like our new Facebook page!