In an effort to avoid the last few weeks of ‘bugger, it’s Friday and I’ve not written anything’, I’m going to strike while the iron is hot. Or, in more modern language, get ma shit together 🙂 BTW, if any of you know anyone who talks like that, get help as there’s a risk of being stuck in 90s Slacker talk.
As I type – or more accurately swipe -this post, I’m currently sat at home on a work day, enjoying the warm sunshine in our newly tidied up conservatory. Thing is, we’ve used it as a bit of a dumping ground come play area and it was, frankly, a mess. Cue a busy weekend of tidying up, recycling the junk and giving some stuff away, it’s now usable and comfortable. Certainly more space to stretch out and move around. We’ve not spent anything, other than time, and if anything we’ve given things away. The good thing about the latter is the rather nice twin feelings of de-cluttering and making someone else happy.
On Wednesday, Radio 4 hosted a programme about children and gender. It’s over on iPlayer if you’re interested. I’ve still not gotten around to listening to the rest of it and when I posted a link over on Facebook, there were mixed comments. Not that that’s a bad thing. After all, our stories aren’t all the same and what some listeners tolerate, or agree with; others, it upsets or enrages.
As I got out of the car and sloped into work, memories bobbed to the surface, stirred by the programme. I thought of a chap at work, we’ll call him E, who I was talking to about children. E’s are slightly younger than Wee Man or Little Miss. It seems E’s youngest – a boy – was very much into Harry Potter and being a wizard. So far, so kid. I know Wee Man went through a cowboy and pirate phase, although thankfully he kept his looting of the high seas to playgroup. Anyhoo, short of a suitable wizard outfit, D’s son was wearing a Disney princess dress. Floor length with long sleeves, apparently.
This, upset D. “But it’s a dress!” he muttered to me. I nodded and asked him what his lad did when he was wearing it. Tea parties for teddies, dressing up for fun, that type of thing. “No, none of those. He has an old stick we found in the woods and he runs around yelling cod Latin.”
I asked if D’s son enjoyed Harry Potter and he sighed. That special sigh parents – and some partners – do. The one reserved for use with a gentle drop of the shoulders and a knowing nod. So, he’s a wizard then? I offered. To me and you, it’s a red dress, but to him, it’s robes. It’s just let’s pretend. D seemed happy with that suggestion. I didn’t want to put the wind up him or anything. I did add that some kids have a different view of clothes and mostly this is temporary, and on some occasions, it’s not. Doesn’t matter either way to me as a parent. D seemed okay with this.
On a personal note, I wonder what is it to be young and trans now? Not that I’d like to be a kid again. Sheesh, Puberty and being a teenager. No thanks, once was quite enough! 🙂 Given today’s trans exposure and – at least seemingly – more help to trans children, where would some of us be headed? It is a case that we can’t look back, because we’ve got a few more miles on the clock? Or, is it that it’s best not to look back? I mean, you can’t change what has happened and for some, is there a danger that looking back will only bring regret, rather than seeing the distance travelled?
|Gender chooses the person, Mr Potter|
Like many of you – as in, both readers 😉 – I’ve thought long and hard about my gender. There have been times, teenage and 20s, when I’ve wondered if being a bloke is really for me. It’s sort of like having a funky hat. Every now and then, I’d take it out of the cupboard and try it on for a bit. Sometimes, I’d spend days in it. Other times, the fit was wrong. There were times I was scared people would see me and I’d put it back.
Now. I’ve still got the proverbial hat, but I don’t worry about if I have to wear it all the time or not. Instead, I try to enjoy it when I do, and not worry so much when I don’t want to. It’s not perfect, but then, what is…?