My son is four. When he was two, he went through a phase of wearing pink pants to day care for about two weeks.
About
four weeks before preschool ended for summer this year, he started
wearing skirts, dresses, and flowery shirts to school most days. I felt a
little awkward about it for the first couple of days, but I didn’t have
any good reason to stop it, and frankly, I had several good reasons to
support it.
For one thing,
it made the miserable drudgery of convincing him to get dressed for
school bearable as summer vacation approached, seemingly at a snail’s
pace. Our only hope of getting him to school on time was to let him wear
ANYTHING that fit the school dress code. Every parent has heard the
advice, “pick your battles.” Each item of clothing he chooses himself
increases the likelihood that I’ll get a bite of vegetables in him at
dinner, a reasonable bedtime, and the car seat buckled without a scene.
The
school responded to his wardrobe choices in exemplary fashion. As he
went in, a teacher would ask him, “What are you going to say if someone
asks you about your shirt/skirt/dress?” To which he would answer
something along the lines of, “It is my concert shirt” or “It makes me
happy.” The teacher would then say, “OK, that’s what you say if anyone
asks you why you are wearing it!” In he would go, happy as a clam. Out
he would come at the end of the day, having raised a few eyebrows and
received lots of compliments, still happy as a clam. I was relieved. So I
picked up a few items at a thrift store that fit him better (and may
eventually be available to my younger child).
During
the last week of school, my in-laws very generously offered to watch
the kids so I could go out for dinner with friends. Upon my return, I
faced a very unusual confrontation. It may not seem confrontational, but
trust me, this is as confrontational as my in-laws get.
FIL: “So, what is with the skirts?”
Me: “Well, it is the path of least resistance right now. We would’ve been on time for school this morning if I had known he was willing to wear a skirt. Instead I spent an hour trying to get pants and shorts on him. I don’t know why he didn’t just ask for a skirt…..”
MIL: “Do you think he prefers them?”
Me: “Well, you know, I do — especially when it is hot out like this, skirts are a lot more comfortable and cool. I mean, the Scottish preferred them, too, right?”
FIL: “I just hope he isn’t getting teased too much at school.”
Me: “No, that isn’t a problem. I asked him the other night at dinner if anyone said anything about his dress. He said everyone loved it.”
FIL: “Mmm. I’m not sure how long that is gonna last.”
I’m
no idiot. I know that school children can be merciless. However, even
in this exceptionally civil conversation, I see a couple of concerning
assumptions.
My
son isn’t hurting anyone. For whatever reason, he is choosing to wear
frills and frocks on occasion. Yet the assumption is that he will be
teased for dressing “like a girl,” and that action should be taken to
prevent this from happening. There is a simple phrase for this attitude:
victim blaming. The
implication is that my son, by wearing girls’ clothing, is “asking” to
be teased; that he would be the perpetrator of his own [non-existent]
torment; that he should conform to societal norms to avoid even the risk
of bullying instead of society confronting bullying, in the event that
it occurs. If it does occur, why not confront and educate the bully,
rather than admonish the victim?
There
is also a gender bias here. While girls are often judged for wearing
just about anything — be it masculine, feminine, short, or long — I
think it is fair to say that societal norms favor girls wearing pants
more than boys wearing skirts. Girls are permitted (if not encouraged)
to emulate boys, while boys are shunned for emulating girls. This
continues into adulthood with serious ramifications for women, men, and
families. Women are encouraged to “lean in” to their work while child rearing, but men receive little or no paternity leave and are learning to pass as workaholics so they can spend more time with family. The examples are endless, but suffice to say that just as the opposite of science isn’t girl, the opposite of boy isn’t teacher, nurse, dancer, or homemaker.
My
son wore a a flowered shirt, frilly skirt, and leg warmers on the last
day of school. I am very proud of who he is and the many wonderful girls
and women he may wish to emulate. I am proud of his school, which has
accepted and embraced him completely thus far. And I am proud of myself
for not caving to my in-laws.
This piece is also published on Medium and Huff Post Parents.
This piece is also published on Medium and Huff Post Parents.
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