When I was Just a Little Girl...

Just read an article on Huffington Post that made me think back a bit to when I was a kid.  I know weird, right?  I never talk about being a kid.   Okay, that was admittedly a bit of sarcasm.  I frequently talk about my childhood, but that is because I think childhoods are important.  I think they shape us into the adults we become.

The article by Kristen Wolfe entitled Dear Customer Who Stuck Up For His Little Brother was about a teenager (around 17 YO) who in fact defended his little brother’s (10-12 YO) decision to choose a video game that had a female lead character in it and a purple controller for the game against his own father who was threatening the child with bodily harm if he chose these things.

The father stomped off angry and the boys, though emotionally affected stood firm together.  It is an amazing story.  The father wanted his son to choose something more “manly” apparently, something with guns or zombies in it, but the boy insisted that he wanted the girl-game.

I thought about why the father was so insistent and I think it is because somehow he believes that if the boy chooses more manly games, then the boy will somehow grow up to be… more manly.  The opposite argument also works in this case, if in fact the boy plays with girl-games, then he will most likely end up to be gay, or a girl – which is one in the same for this father obviously, and both are anathema to the father.

But, is this assumption true?  I mean, when I was a young father raising my boys I think I felt like it was my job to mold my boys into “men.”  And my definition of men was something like this father’s.  It was tough, strong, manly, or masculine, or macho, and straight, not gay.  I was deluded into believing that somehow just by the toys I let them play with, the clothes I let them wear and the things I let them do, I could somehow make this sort of thing happen.

So I only let them play with toy cars and trucks and other stuff like that.  When kids were playing dress-up and putting on dresses, I did not allow them to play that way.  I made crude jokes about gayness and gay people in the home to make sure the kids knew that this was not an acceptable way to be.  I did everything I knew to try and control their future outcomes.  I believed that I could somehow, prevent gayness, or create straightness if you will.

Years later, I am convinced that I was wrong to try and do this.  I also now realize that being a man has nothing to do with a person’s sexual preference.  After all, there are plenty of tough determined men in the military stationed in Afghanistan right now on behalf of our country who happen to be gay. 

I realize also that there is no way for a father or mother to create or foster or nurture or make kids grow up to be straight.  You can certainly make them miserable by trying -- as the father in the article certainly was able to demonstrate.  I don’t know what the scene was when those boys got home or in the car on the way home, but I can imagine that it was not a pleasant one.  Just because dad backed down in the store it does not mean that the discussion was over.

Here’s another thing, does playing with cross-gendered toys mean that you have a gender identity issue?  Does a boy playing with Barbies make the boy instantly gay?  Does a girl playing with a set of tools make her a lesbian?  What is wrong with people?

When I was a small boy I distinctly remember that my favorite person in the world back then was my Mom.  She was a SAHM, who took being a Mommy to the nth degree.  She saw it as her duty to spend every waking moment with me, caring for me, playing with me, reading to me and talking with me.  She also did a fair amount of cleaning.

Seriously, a lot of cleaning.  I don’t mean like dusting and then sleeping.  I mean hard core cleaning.  I honestly think she was a bit OCD  However, when she cleaned she would play the most beautiful music.  While most Moms of that day were listening to top 40 stuff of the 70s or Motown, Mom would play her Doris Day records from the 60s.  I grew up listening to Doris Day and singing “Que sera, sera.  Whatever will be, will be.  The future’s not ours to see.  Que sera, sera.”

My favorite toys back then were a plastic toy vacuum cleaner, a few dolls and a golden brown teddy bear, appropriately named “Goldie.”  She had a husband teddy bear named Ted.  I think he was actually doing my dark brown teddy bear (Markeesha) on the side, but that is another story.  These were a few of my favorite things. 

You know why?  I wanted to be just like Mom when I grew up.  And she seemed to favor these things, including the vacuum cleaner.  It’s a miracle that my favorite toys weren’t an old dust rag and a mop and bucket, considering how much Mom cleaned.  No, instead it was toys that could let me play like my Mom.  I wore her shoes around the house too and liked to make things with her.

Guess what, I'm not attracted to men in the least.  So, there you go.  My worst moment as a child growing up?  The day my Mom put all my girl toys in a plastic bag and I never saw them again, including my Goldie bear.  I cried and cried and cried.  It was heart-breaking.

Maybe she too was afraid of her influence on me.  I still believe that spending all that time with Mom and playing with tender toys and listening to Doris Day and having my Mommy wipe me down with a cold wet wash-rag and stay by my side all night when I had a fever made me into the caring and compassionate man I am today.  Thanks Mom.  I forgive you for taking Goldie away.    

“When I was just a little girl, I asked my Mother what will I be.  Will I be pretty?  Will I be rich?  Here’s what she said to me.”  “You will be a good man, John.  You will.”