My daughter is not me.
I know, that seems like
a really obvious statement. Of course she's not me! I'm hardly one of
those 'helicopter parents', that hover over their children's every
move. Nor am I a 'stage parent' vicariously living through my child
in an attempt to increase my value through their actions and
achievements.
But as my 6 year old
daughter is becoming more and more independent and secure in her own
identity, she is beginning to assert her own ideas and ideals over
and above my own. And so, I have had to come to the conclusion...
My daughter is not me.
I have been proactive
in raising my children in as much of a gender neutral, sex positive
way as I could. Both of my children are comfortable in 'boys' and
'girls' clothing and feel able to explore 'boy' and 'girl'
activities. My daughter knows she is a girl, that she will become a
woman, but I have tried my utmost to ensure that this doesn't
influence her to restrict her behaviours or expectations of herself.
As we frequently say, the only thing woman can do that men can't do
is carry a baby in their uterus, and unless something is operated by
a penis it's not just for boys. We notice and speak about unreal
messages in the media and de-construct the way it tries to influence
us. My daughter is getting to be a pretty savvy consumer!
So why does it bother
me so much that she still loves to play princesses? That for a while
her favourite colour was pink? That wearing a pretty dress with
sparkles makes her face light up the way plain shorts and a top
don't? That she loves her long blonde hair and wants to grow it so
she can be a mermaid?
When I realised how
much these things bothered me, I had to look deep inside to see why.
Sure, I was a 'tomboy' who hated dresses and used to wish I was a
boy, but did I really want her to do the same? If I really am trying
not to put gender restrictions on my children, why does it distress
me when my daughter embraces the 'girly'? As it so often does, it
goes right back to my own childhood (thank you Dr Freud).
As I have said, I have
never been one for the 'girly', either the label or the
accoutrements. Growing up, my deepest desire was to be 'one of the
gang'. I hated dresses and was never too fussed on dolls. I remember
aged about 10 lying in the bath having bitter recriminations with God
about why I had been made a girl when boys had so much more fun.
And there I think we
have it. Growing up in the 1980's and 1990's, gender stereotypes were
strongly enforced. Girls couldn't be superheroes, they couldn't be
warriors or firefighters or chairmen of banks... or if they could, it
wasn't visible to my 10 year old eyes. I wanted to feel strong and
powerful too, but as I saw it this was only an option for the men.
The girls I knew didn't roughhouse or wrestle – they had tea
parties. They didn't play basketball or football or even handball –
they danced. Or played netball. Girl sports.
They didn't do subjects
like Manuel Arts or Physics or Maths C. They did Biology and
Hospitality. They didn't play games at lunch time or run around with
their friends – they sat. And talked to each other. About boys and
clothes and stuff that I have never really cared about. Stuff that I
never embraced.
Now, at 32, I am
finally happy to be a woman. I love my body, the way it carried and
fed my beautiful children. I love that I can be powerful and brave
and strong – without having to fashion myself a penis. I can see
that God really did know what She was doing when She created me –
just as I am.
So I look at my sparkly
princess fairy fighter superhero yellow belt daughter, and I am so
pleased that she can embrace all of those parts of herself. She
allows herself to be a girl because she sees no restrictions because
of it. She challenges the expectations put on her by society and by
me just by being authentically who she is – more than my daughter,
but a child growing into a woman all on her own.
And I thank God for her
every single day.
