It was a red gingham skirt. It twirled up when I spun around, and it was my favorite thing to wear. The only problem was, it wasn't mine. It was my sister's. The other problem was, I was a boy and boys aren't supposed to wear skirts, let alone red gingham ones.
I've never really told anyone about the red gingham skirt before. I've also never really told anyone about how I mastered draping my bed sheet into an exact replica of Anna's gown in the King and I when no one was home (I project runwayed that shit out!) While I'm at it, I've never told anyone how much I used to loved going over to my aunt's house when I was young to try on her awesome 80's heels (I could teach a few things about walking in heels....just saying.)
I think the biggest thing I've never told anyone is that I've always been afraid of admitting all of this. What would people think of me if they knew I had enjoyed a good spin in a full skirt or enjoyed strutting my stuff in heels? Would they think I am less of a man? Probably. The sad thing is, somehow, at three years old when I was twirling in my sister's red gingham, I knew this and consequently spent the next twenty years trying to be the man my parents could be proud of.
I tried little league. I tried cub scouts. I even tried archery. The problem was that while I was failing at the masculine stuff, I was excelling at the feminine things. I could crochet an outfit for my cabbage patch kid, french braid my sister's hair for school, and pirouette until the cows came home. These were things i couldn't be proud of though because what I was good at was girly and I didn't want to be a girl. I was a boy, goddammit!
It wasn't until I understood the difference between biological sex and gender that I was able to start unpacking the shame I had packed away in my gender baggage. Here's the thing. I grew up ashamed of who I was. Even with parents who recognized and supported my talents, I was still made to feel as less of a man because of society's definition of what it means to be a man. But that is the key to understanding gender - the recognition that gender is socially constructed.
Think about colors. In our culture, we typically think of baby boys in blue and baby girls in pink. I grew up thinking that was the law until I learned that prior to World War II, baby boys were put in pink and baby girls were dressed in blue. Why? Pink was considered a diluted red which was a power color while blue was considered soft and feminine. It wasn't until the Nazi's started using pink triangles to identify gay men that we made the switch. What was once masculine became feminine almost overnight.
That got me thinking; what if we could alter other gender stereotypes? What if instead of worrying about raising good "boys" and "girls", we focused on raising good "human beings"?
In my work, we ask people to come up with a list of words that describe someone who is self actualized. The list usually includes Happy, Fulfilled, Confident, Peaceful, and Strong. The words that never show up on the list are masculine, feminine, or straight. What would happen if we focused on raising children who are more concerned with becoming self actualized as opposed to becoming masculine or feminine? I'll tell you what would happen; we would have happy, confident, fulfilled, peaceful, and strong children who would grow into adults that would have one less bag to unpack - a bag that is full of gender stereotypes and norms.
As someone who has never really fit into society's gender norms, I can tell you that that bag can be one of the heaviest bags you'll ever carry. The only solution I see to keep from passing that baggage on is to challenge gender stereotypes. A boy wants to take ballet? Fine. A girls wants to play football? Awesome. A boy wants to grow up and be a stay at home dad? Good for him. A girl wants to be president? Go for it!
I long for the day when boys won't be afraid to cry and every girl will recognize their true potential - a day where colors are genderless and talent is talent. Until that day, I will continue to unpack my gender baggage and hope to get to a place where I believe in my gut that I am a human being my parents can be proud of. And who knows, maybe when that day comes, I'll be self-actualized enough to buy a red gingham skirt and matching pumps to celebrate.
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