Kids · Life

Gender studies

I recently opened an email that started with ‘Dear Mr. Davidson’ from someone who wanted me to hire him. I sent back constructive criticism a bitchy reply. This happens to me at least once a week (although not usually from someone looking for a job). I even received this from my doctor’s office not too long ago:

stephaine
Does not inspire confidence in the medical community.

I understand that Steph is not as gender-specific as Stephanie, but come on people. I would have understood it more when I was a child, because this is what I looked like:

Yes, that is a rat tail.
Yes, that is a rat tail.
My father and his son.
My father and his son.
I also had trouble opening my eyes.
I also had trouble opening my eyes.

I was referred to as ‘son’ more often than not until I grew my hair out/hit puberty (don’t worry, the hair was still very unfortunate). It bothered me a bit, especially when I was young, but I got over it. I did have a bit of PTSD last summer when I had to cut all my hair off due to an unfortunate bleach situation, combined with the worries that short hair isn’t feminine, that it would make my face look even rounder, that men would assume I only liked ladies. Then I remembered short hair is awesome (as the above photos clearly demonstrate), so now I get to sleep longer, I gave away my straightener, and I get to accessorize with amazing fascinators:

Need more flare? Fascinator.
Need more flare? Fascinator.

It probably didn’t help that I loved blue, a ‘boy’ colour, and wore as much of it as possible. I was reminded just how dumb people can be about these things in Subway a few weeks ago. The family ahead of us had ordered a kids’ meal for their three year old, and it came with a tote bag. He chose a black one with pink handles that had a hockey player on it. As the grown ass man behind the counter handed it to the child, he said, ‘Pink is a girl colour.’ My business partner and I looked at each other, and I am pretty sure our heads almost exploded. I politely told him how inappropriate I found that (after our food was made) and he became super awkward.

How about we don’t make kids feel shitty for having short hair or long hair or liking pink or blue or wearing whateverthefuck they want and just let them be kids?

I’ll probably still get called Mr. and Steve though.

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