My daughter, Allyndreth, is turning one. This marks the end of a challenging year trying to raise her in a gender-neutral fashion, not imposing the cultural conventions of pink frilly clothes, baby dolls, flowers, sugar, spice and everything nice on her.
For some reason, it was much easier to let our son, Tyrian, gravitate naturally to boy-type behavior during his first year. When I went through his old baby clothes, I noticed we managed to dress him in a variety of colors, with no emblems or insignia for almost a year. Then the trucks and diggers and fire engines started appearing on his T-shirts. It was about the same time he decided that crashing cars, doing cowabunga stunts at the playground and chattering about construction were the ways he liked to spend his days. I learned and accepted that there are certain behaviors and interests that attract boys simply because they are wired that way, and I was OK with that.
When we learned we were having a girl, a friend with daughters warned me that it would be like dressing a doll when I chose her wardrobe. But I have some sort of missing maternal chemical in my brain, and I have never been goo-goo about baby clothes. My approach tends to be “Do the clothes fit? Are they comfortable? Great, now get the kid dressed.” I doubted I would see my little girl as a living doll.
Wrong. I set eyes on her sweet face and I immediately wanted flowers and ribbons and bows and kitties. My mom had done an excellent job spreading the word that we wanted no pink for our baby girl, but when I stared at a closet with no pink to greet our baby, I felt something was missing. And suddenly, those gender-neutral hand-me-downs from her brother were a little too gender-neutral. I had become the ultimate girl by having a girl.
My behavior towards Allyndreth is very girly too. When I take her shopping, I imagine the day when we will be asking each other if these pants make me look fat. Oh, but we have to be careful about body-image issues, so I’ll need to talk to her about how the cut and style of clothing can completely alter her silhouette. It struck me that some day we will probably plan her wedding together. My husband is already talking about cleaning his shotgun in the doorway when young suitors come by.
We’re pretty strict parents, but it has been harder to discipline Allyndreth than her brother. When Tyrian does an obviously calculated manipulation to get his way, we hold firm to our parental reins. But Allyndreth is pretty darn cute when she’s being manipulative. Our resolve is strong, but we have to fight to hold onto it. And the minute the kids are asleep, we giggle about how adorable she is.
So I was stunned when I realized my gender bias began months before Allyndreth was born. When I decorated her room, I chose only textile art for her walls, an extremely female-associated artform. For shame, I scolded myself, looking at the hanging quilt made by her grandmother, the knitted blanket from her aunt, the framed needlework representing her great-grandmother’s hand and my own. There’s a handmade silk rug from India, no doubt woven by a woman, and a wall-hanging made by Cambodian women. About half of these pieces I owned when my son was born, but I never considered putting them in his room. Why not?
It occurred to me that I am celebrating the irrepressible artistry of the women in our family through their chosen form of self expression, textile art. I am surrounding Allyndreth with her legacy, and inviting her to go forth and carry on the family’s creative tradition. Happy Birthday, my daughter!