Labels are for Jars

Based on things I’ve overhead or read recently:

• Why do we assume that all boys like bugs? Or that only boys like bugs?
• Why do we all know what someone means if they say they want something in “a boy color?”
• Why do kids as young as four “know” that fairies are for girls (only)?
• Why do we discourage things such as long hair for boys, yet short hair is “cute” for girls?
• Why is empathy a woman’s natural art?
• Why do we assume that all boys like balls and that all men must be able to teach ball games to boys?
• Why are female baseball players extraordinary and male ballet dancers “gay/queer/strange?”

Any to add to the list?

Read Full Post »

Just a note to follow up on my last post (and yes, we’ve been away again, hence the dry spell in posting). I appreciate everyone’s thoughtful comments — I think that you see the tension that I feel sometimes between the need or want to educate, open minds, etc, and the desire sometimes to just BE. Be me, be with my boy, etc.

But, in the instance of the airport, I wasn’t considering correcting the woman who referred to Q as a girl. In reflecting on that interaction, I decided to write about it not because of the woman’s confusion, but because I discovered that, at the bottom of the many layers of discomfort that might occur, was my OWN discomfort at what might be thought or said about ME if I let on that Q is, in fact, a boy. My own fear of judgment — of me and my boy. And it was a bit of an ugly truth for me to uncover. And thus, I thought it warranted sharing as part of my own journey here. I’m always astounded when things come back to my own fear of discomfort or embarrassment, and I think that’s important to record and care. Hence the post.

Hope that clarified a bit.

More to come, but I’d also love to hear from you: What would you like to see on these pages? What stories? What reflections? What commentaries on issues beyond me and my boy but related to the topics herein? I’d love to hear from you.

Read Full Post »