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Friday, March 25, 2005 ( 3/25/2005 10:17:00 AM ) DN Badly Drawn Girl Late one school night a few weeks ago, the children were upstairs giggling, calling down, “We’ve got a surprise. We’ll come down and show you in a minute.” “Oh, sweet Jesus,” Tom muttered. Parents know that when your children have a surprise for you it is a toss-up whether you will merely be surprised or full-on horrified. After a great deal of noise like horses being corraled or what might have been, despite the cliché, actual stampeding elephants, they presented themselves. My daughter was wearing her brother’s clothes: jeans and a tee shirt, a baseball cap over her long blond hair. My son was wearing his sister’s clothes: a skirt with badly matched white tights, tights whose crotch I could tell barely went above his knees. They giggled and whooped, and asked for pictures to be taken. They awaited our comments. And there we were, face to face with our own gender prejudices. My daughter looked cute, like Mary-Kate or Ashley used to look, with her hair spilling from the baseball cap. She posed, and the fair, girlish arm on the hip of the baggy jeans made her look more feminine. My son was grotesque. His sharp features, short hair and large ears made him more masculine, but the effect wasn’t charming. With the right background music, the sight would have made an arresting, chilling shot in a psychological horror flick (well, maybe if he also had some raggedly applied red lipstick). He was grinning like a fool, innocent of our dismay. We bit our tongues, acted noncommital, and breathed sighs of relief when they went back upstairs, out of sight, to change. I took pictures that I'm sure I’ll never print. My daughter wore costumes constantly from age two to age six. They were mostly bridal wear, or witches robes, or things with tulle and fairy wings. My son had and still has little interest in this kind of make-believe. He has squeezed into the occasional dress, over the years, less from a desire to pretend he is a girl, I think, than a desire to wear girl’s clothing. Apparently my gender role resistance doesn't extend to allowing boys to do anything girls do. I'm so enlightened. Right. Androgyny's fine. For girls. How easily my philosophy is exposed! Well, perhaps I'll buy him girl's underwear in his own size. # Wednesday, March 16, 2005 ( 3/16/2005 08:27:00 AM ) DN Link to my house listing (430 Fifth Ave) # |
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