Sometime within the last few weeks, Connery has become acutely aware of gender roles and where he thinks he fits in. This is somewhat distressing to me, because we have worked hard--I think--to try to show him that girls and boys can do anything and that no one gender is better and so on. We are the kind of fuzzy-headed liberal parents who didn't even want to find out whether we were having a girl or boy for fear of pre-birth gendering (and the inevitable onslaught of pink or blue toys and clothes).
We did our nursery in neutral greens and yellows and, although we called pre-born Connery "Cletus" (the Fetus, doncha know), I actually had a feeling that we were having a girl. I was as shocked as anyone when the attending physician said excitedly, "I feel balls!" (He was breech, and I swear it sounded less vulgar in Czech, though perhaps not to native Czech speakers.)
Throughout his baby and toddlerhood, I've attempted to emphasize gender equality, even in the face of books like The Good Humor Man, in which "mommies left their kitchens and daddies left their lawn mowers" to go meet the ice cream truck. I'm not above rewriting on the fly to make things less sexist, though I know the literary purists will scream. And yet, Connery is still, at not-quite-three, acutely aware of what is "for girls" and what is for him.
Last week, right on schedule for the Con-man's upcoming birthday bash, Birthday Express sent their catalog of party accessories. It's laid out in one or two-page spreads that show all the items available to have a Spongebob party, a dinosaur party, a pirate party--you name it. Last year he had Nemo--again, pretty neutral in my view--and so I thought I'd let him look through to see what kinds of party themes were available. Flip--dog party. Check. Liked that one. Flip--Cars party. Check. Liked that one. Flip--Disney Princesses. Immediate page turn. When I asked him about it, he said, "That's a GIRL'S party." Every other page with any hint of pink or a girl character--even Dora!--was just as summarily dispatched.
Then last night we were discussing the possibility of dance class. Connery took a gymnastics class a while back and loved it, and dance is one of the few organized physical activities for kids that allows three-year-olds. So I asked him about it. The first thing he asked? "Is that class for little boys? Will there be other little boys there?"
Of course we said yes, but I don't want to lie to him. When we got the dance registration form today, it was just as gendered as Connery's party rules. All of the classes had guidelines about what should be worn for each class. For the class at Connery's level? Pink leotard with pink tights. Real inclusive. And each dancer will be given a princess teddy bear. What kind of uphill battle am I fighting here?
I'm not trying to make Connery's life harder by forcing him into a role of some child soldier in the battle of the sexes. I just would have thought that by 2006, enrolling a boy-child in a dance class would not be an act of tremendous rebellion. And yet, when I think back to that gymnastics class, Connery was the only boy there. He didn't mind then, but he would mind now. He would want to know why there weren't any other boys there.
So we'll go and watch a class, but we'll probably end up with no organized physical activities for him this year. When he's four, we might be able to try martial arts or soccer. It grates on me, though, that no one would think twice about encouraging a girl to take karate--as I did, and loved, growing up--but boys' activities are still stuck in tradition-land.