I really did think that this would have been the last thing I ever wrote about breastfeeding. But today, the opportunity to talk about breastfeeding at the same time as ranting about Nigel Farage is just too much for me to pass up. You may have noticed him in the news again today, because there are no other politicians, or people who have opinions about things, or news. Today he has been supporting Claridges over their verging-on-illegal request to a breastfeeding mother to please cover herself up with a ridiculous napkin, because what the world really needs is his exceedingly well-informed opinion on the matter.
I've been reading debates about this today, although I'm really not sure why. There are some people who still seem to get quite cross about the idea that babies might need feeding every now and again, in places where there are other people, and in any given discussion of the subject, they will trot out exactly the same non-arguments. It's like breastfeeding bingo. If, for some reason, you are interested in any of these "reasons" why women should not be free to feed their children whenever and however they like, here they all are, along with my explanation of why they make about as much sense as a UKIP policy document.
"Some people are uncomfortable about seeing it"
Given that I'm a card-carrying, badge-wearing, fetching uniform-sporting, fully paid-up member of the PC Brigade (come and join us, we meet in the Centre of Inclusive Diversity every Tuesday, bring cake), you'd think I'd have some sympathy with this. I'm not generally a massive fan of making other people uncomfortable, and if something I'm doing is causing someone distress and there's no good reason for doing it, then I think that's a fair enough reason to stop. But breastfeeding in public has a reason, that reason being, obviously, to feed a baby, which usually has the added bonus of making said baby stop crying. And lots of people feel uncomfortable about lots of things, and some of the reasons for that discomfort are better than others. I feel massively uncomfortable with, say, people blaming all the country's ills on immigrants, as I believe it causes real harm to real people. What actual harm has seeing an exposed breast for a few seconds ever done to anyone in the history of the world ever? Answers on a postcard. Can you still buy postcards? I wouldn't worry, I don't think it's likely anyone will need one.
But perhaps I am being uncharitable, and people genuinely have deep-seated and terribly real issues that cause the sight of an infant doing what infants need to do in order to not die to genuinely distress them. If that is the case, I would like to make a radical suggestion - look at the wall, the floor, your coffee, your phone, the sky, the door, the person you are with, a person you are not with, or any one of the several hundred things around you that are not somebody doing something you don't like looking at.
"Some women are militant/ostentatious breastfeeders doing it just to make a point and there's no need"
I have never, in my entire life, seen a militant breastfeeder. Or an ostentatious one. What does that even mean? How do you breastfeed ostentatiously? Do these people carry placards with them announcing what they're doing? Neon signs? Do they put a tassle on the other one and do a dance?
I think what this actually means is that you've seen a breastfeeding woman who has maybe revealed more than 2 inches of her boob while latching on her child, or fed in a location where one might not normally think to sit down for a while, such as Tesco, or Sunderland, or perhaps not rushed to shove her offending nipple into her child's mouth and out of sight as quickly as possible. I've known women like this. I've more than likely been that woman. And none of us were doing it to make a point. All of us were doing it, believe it or not, because that's what our babies wanted us to do. And maybe we cared more about that baby than anyone who might be watching. Soz and that. Or maybe they were doing it to make a point and be ostentatious. In which case they were probably a twat. You get them in all walks of life, unfortunately. But does it matter? I refer you to my daring "does it do any harm?"/don't look suggestions above.
"I've got nothing against feeding in public, but it should be done discretely. It's not difficult"
The thing that annoys me most about this argument is that nobody knows how to spell discreet. Breastfeeding is always done discretely. No-one is continuously breastfeeding (although I have friends who would swear it felt like it). Doing it discreetly is different. *takes pedant hat off*
Here's some news for you: most women do breastfeed discreetly. You've probably sat right next to women feeding their babies and not noticed they were doing it. When you're breastfeeding, your mind suddenly thinks in a different way. You mentally reject 5 outfits every morning because they're hard to remove your mammaries from. You scan every coffee shop for the seat where you can be as comfortable as possible and where the smallest number of people will get the chance to glare at you. You know exactly what you need to do get your baby from buggy to boob with as little fuss as possible. You are an expert, stealthy, tit-ninja. But this takes practice. Very tiny babies are not known for being cooperative. Neither are newly-lactating breasts. Nor are sleep-deprived limbs. Watching a new mother learning to breastfeed can sometimes be like watching Bambi learning to walk. In the early days, there were countless times when I'd be sitting in Costa with one breast out, while my husband and I both tried to manouevre our baby into a position that looked anything like the ones in the books, while trying to stop her latching on to my face or her own fist. Perhaps I should have used some kind of cover, like the one helpfully provided to Louise Burns by Claridges? Well, I tried that. The baby tried to get milk out of it. It got in my way. I couldn't see where her mouth was, where my nipple was, I could only feel the toe-curling pain that told me that both were in the wrong position. My mother ended up trying to hold it up in front of me, reminding me of the time I had to get changed on the beach at Robin Hood's Bay because I fell in the sea. It (the breastfeeding, not the Robin Hood's Bay incident) was painful, stressful, most definitely not discreet, and I nearly cried. But far, far better that a new mother goes through all that than somebody has to see a nipple, right? Because remind me what would happen if they did...?
"Breasts are sexual. Does this mean men should be free to walk around with their penises out?"
Yes, yes, boobies and sex go together quite nicely. But, despite what the Sun would like you to think, that's not all they are. They also make milk, to feed babies with. Multi-tasking, see? So, as I've already pointed out, women are not just getting their breasts out for no reason, they are doing it for a purpose. What purpose would a man have in getting his penis out? Although, penises are also multi-tasking. They can do wees, and men get them out in front of other men to do that. Does that mean that men are all having dangerous sexythoughts every time they visit a urinal? Hmm, this is getting too confusing for me. To be on the safe side, we should make sure everyone covers every single part of themselves that could be associated with sex. Considering that everyone's erogenous zones are quite different, we're best off all walking around in a full burka. That would make Farage happy, no?
"Breastfeeding might be natural, but so is doing a shit, and we don't do that in public"
If you can't understand why a process that results in a waste product that has a strong unpleasant odour and is crawling with germs is different to one which provides food to a baby, then you are failing at life.
"It's an intimate moment between mother and child, and they should be given privacy"
To you maybe. To me it was a way to feed my child without having to spend ridiculous amounts of money on powder that I invariably measured wrongly and spilt all over the place. If I want privacy I'll go and find it. Thanks for your concern.
I'd like some fresh arguments next time please. These are old and tired. I would like examples of how seeing a semi-naked breast caused your 7-year-old niece to turn into a dragon and devour a small village in Kent, or how a man got so confused by seeing a baby covering a nipple he tried to hand out infants to his local burlesque troop. Then perhaps it will be worth debating. Until then, grow up everyone.
Friday, 5 December 2014
Tuesday, 25 November 2014
Um.
So. Not very good at this, am I? So much for my new and extremely exciting blog.
Hey, what can I say? I'm a busy working mum. I've got a career, two beautiful children to spend lots of quality time with, a house to keep clean and tidy and a rich and full social life which I....
Sorry, couldn't even get to the end of that. That's obviously complete crap. I spend most of my life sitting on my arse in my living room, which you'd think would be prime blogging time.
The real reasons/excuses for the lack of posts on this blog are as follows:
1) I like to have a post completely planned out and at least half-written in my head before I sit down and start typing. In theory, this should ensure that my blog is not full of inane, pointless gibberish. In theory.
2) I have made a deep and unwavering commitment to watching all six seasons of Gossip Girl on Netflix. Currently at the beginning of season 5, so hopefully this one will cease to be an excuse fairly soon. By the way, if anyone knows how I can train myself to transfer this perserverance and tenacity into the areas of my life that don't involve terrible US teen dramas, please do let me know.
3) I am on a downward internet spiral. This happens fairly reguarly, and is not a great thing. I've been addicted to being online, and in particular reading people arguing with each other online, for a good few years now, ever since I wandered across a breastfeeding debate on a certain parenting forum. Sometimes I'm not too bad, and I actually manage to spend good chunks of my time having conversations with the people who share a house with me, and reading books, and even going outside and doing interesting things with my children. But then, maybe one day I'm feeling a bit tired and run down, and I can't really be bothered with any of those things, and there's a really interesting thing on Facebook, which links to this blog, and then people are having a majoy discussion about it in the comments, and then before I know it a couple of hours have gone by and my neck hurts and my eyes hurt and I'm even more tired and so the next day the only thing I can be bothered to do is sit the kids in front of Pocahontas and get my phone out, and there's this really interesting thing on facebook....... And none of this online time ever turns into me actually writing anything
So here I am. Writing a thing. And it is pointless and of absolutely no interest to anyone apart from me. Possibly including me. But it was more fun than reading about how desparate everyone on my local parents' group on facebook is to get a Snow Glow Elsa. Please no-one mention the existence of these things to my children.
Hey, what can I say? I'm a busy working mum. I've got a career, two beautiful children to spend lots of quality time with, a house to keep clean and tidy and a rich and full social life which I....
Sorry, couldn't even get to the end of that. That's obviously complete crap. I spend most of my life sitting on my arse in my living room, which you'd think would be prime blogging time.
The real reasons/excuses for the lack of posts on this blog are as follows:
1) I like to have a post completely planned out and at least half-written in my head before I sit down and start typing. In theory, this should ensure that my blog is not full of inane, pointless gibberish. In theory.
2) I have made a deep and unwavering commitment to watching all six seasons of Gossip Girl on Netflix. Currently at the beginning of season 5, so hopefully this one will cease to be an excuse fairly soon. By the way, if anyone knows how I can train myself to transfer this perserverance and tenacity into the areas of my life that don't involve terrible US teen dramas, please do let me know.
3) I am on a downward internet spiral. This happens fairly reguarly, and is not a great thing. I've been addicted to being online, and in particular reading people arguing with each other online, for a good few years now, ever since I wandered across a breastfeeding debate on a certain parenting forum. Sometimes I'm not too bad, and I actually manage to spend good chunks of my time having conversations with the people who share a house with me, and reading books, and even going outside and doing interesting things with my children. But then, maybe one day I'm feeling a bit tired and run down, and I can't really be bothered with any of those things, and there's a really interesting thing on Facebook, which links to this blog, and then people are having a majoy discussion about it in the comments, and then before I know it a couple of hours have gone by and my neck hurts and my eyes hurt and I'm even more tired and so the next day the only thing I can be bothered to do is sit the kids in front of Pocahontas and get my phone out, and there's this really interesting thing on facebook....... And none of this online time ever turns into me actually writing anything
So here I am. Writing a thing. And it is pointless and of absolutely no interest to anyone apart from me. Possibly including me. But it was more fun than reading about how desparate everyone on my local parents' group on facebook is to get a Snow Glow Elsa. Please no-one mention the existence of these things to my children.
Thursday, 30 October 2014
Critical Analysis of a Modern Cultural Phenomenon
Or
Why Everyone in Disney's Frozen is a complete and utter moron.
Ah, Frozen. The current Big Thing which is the Best Thing Ever until the Next Big Thing comes along (maybe it's already coming along, I don't know. I'm always a bit behind the times. Hence this post now when everyone else posted things about Frozen on the internet several months ago).
I actually quite like Frozen. It is full of good songs and some fairly funny lines. And, as a feminist I am told I should like it - TWO "strong" female characters! And one of them doesn't even have to have a man at the end!!!! Which is all well and good. But. Every single character in this film is a massive massive idiot. Really.
In no particular order, allow me to explain....
The King and Queen: morons. We know our kid can make snow. We're not going to try to learn about the downsides to these powers she has until she has almost killed our other kid. Then we're going to go and ask a troll about it. We are then going to interpret his advice as "lock the snow-making kid in her room for the rest of her life, and put the fear of god into her that she's going to kill everyone". That'll totally work. Just get her some gloves or something.
The Troll King: moron. I'm going to terrify a small child who has completely accidentally almost killed her little sister. You MUST learn to control your power, but you can figure out how on your own, right? I'm not going to help in anyway. Your parents seem to have that under control with their REALLY SOLID PLAN. And just for good measure, I'll wipe the memory of the other one. There's no real reason for this. I mean, it's a great idea to not know that if you piss your sister off she might accidentally freeze you. Family secrets are the way forward, y'all.
See also: this
Elsa: moron. To be fair to Elsa, she's had a pretty messed up childhood, locked up by herself, terrified that she's going to go on some kind of freezing rampage. It's not that surprising that the girl's got issues. So maybe we can forgive her for running away from her problems, refusing to go back and take responsibility for freezing her entire kingdom, making ice-spikes at anyone who goes near her, and setting a huge, violent and terrifying snowman on her little sister. Maybe. But really, Elsa, you're not even going to have a little bit of a bash at unfreezing something? You can create spangly dresses and SENTIENT BEINGS out of thin air, and it doesn't occur to you for one second that you might be powerful enough to find a way to melt some snow?
Hans: actually only a minor moron. I mean, he's not a nice guy, obvs. But he seems to be able to do thinking, what with all the plotting and manipulating. However, Hans loses points for not remembering the simple thing that is the undoing of many a movie villain: if you want someone dead, then make sure that they are dead. If you leave them to die on their own, they will invariably not die, and then you'll be punched in the face and put in a cage on a boat.
Olaf: not all moron. Olaf is allowed to be a moron, he is made of snow. And still his plan to save Anna is better than any other plan in this film.
Kristoff: moron. Everything has suddenly become frozen. It feels, by your own admission, "magical". You very quickly learn that the Queen is behind it. Yet it somehow takes you HALF THE DAMN FILM to remember that you once saw the entire royal family getting ice-related help from your adoptive-grandfather, and conclude that maybe you should go and see him and see if he's got any bright ideas this time. Although, let's be honest, he wasn't the biggest help on that occasion, apart from the unfreezing (see above). Also, why are you letting Anna direct this mission? You drive a sled around the mountains FOR A LIVING; this girl thought she could make her way across the kingdom and up in the dark, in a party frock. Outdoor survival skills are clearly not her thing. And, you know, there's also the whole reindeer thing.
Sven: reindeer. Possibly not a moron, I don't really know how reindeer think.
The entire population of Arendelle: morons. They let the one surviving, non-ice-wielding, member of the royal family ride off into the night on her own, with no map, provisions, or brains. They then let some dude from the Seven Isles take charge, despite the fact that there has been no monarch for THREE YEARS, so they either already have some kind of regent or other decision-making person/body in place, or they are really good at coping with a power vacuum. They are all also seemingly easily pleased - "The queen is back now and appears to have stopped creating giant spiky ice defences but can we be sure she isn't going to freeze the kingdom ag.... oooooh, ice skates!"
The Trolls: morons. Yeah, alright, just ignore the fact that Anna is ENGAGED and try to force her into marrying someone else. What's that about? On the other hand, they are responsible for the best line in any Disney song ever.
Anna: amazingly idiotic moron. I'm going to agree to marryt he first guy that speaks to me EVER. I'm going to be surprised when my sister doesn't think that's the best idea in the world. I'm going to run off into the night on my own to find her even though I've never been anywhere ever, and I don't have the faintest fricking clue where I'm going. I'm going to leave this random stranger who I am now engaged to in charge of my kingdom, even though there is absolutely no need to do this as someone's been running things for three years and might as well keep going. I'm going to throw carrots at this guy until he agrees to take me up the North Mountain. Even though it is late and dark, and my plan of what to do when I get there is the lamest plan in the history of the world. I am going to maintain that my sister would never hurt me, even though I have no idea if that's true or not, and it turns out to emphatically not be. I am going to tell my sister she set off an eternal winter everywhere, even though I've only gone a few miles from home and it's been a couple of days at the most. I am going to sing at her until she either comes back with me, or sets an abonimable snowman on me.
Oaken: not a moron. He is a shrewd businessman, and he has a sauna.
Why Everyone in Disney's Frozen is a complete and utter moron.
Ah, Frozen. The current Big Thing which is the Best Thing Ever until the Next Big Thing comes along (maybe it's already coming along, I don't know. I'm always a bit behind the times. Hence this post now when everyone else posted things about Frozen on the internet several months ago).
I actually quite like Frozen. It is full of good songs and some fairly funny lines. And, as a feminist I am told I should like it - TWO "strong" female characters! And one of them doesn't even have to have a man at the end!!!! Which is all well and good. But. Every single character in this film is a massive massive idiot. Really.
In no particular order, allow me to explain....
The King and Queen: morons. We know our kid can make snow. We're not going to try to learn about the downsides to these powers she has until she has almost killed our other kid. Then we're going to go and ask a troll about it. We are then going to interpret his advice as "lock the snow-making kid in her room for the rest of her life, and put the fear of god into her that she's going to kill everyone". That'll totally work. Just get her some gloves or something.
The Troll King: moron. I'm going to terrify a small child who has completely accidentally almost killed her little sister. You MUST learn to control your power, but you can figure out how on your own, right? I'm not going to help in anyway. Your parents seem to have that under control with their REALLY SOLID PLAN. And just for good measure, I'll wipe the memory of the other one. There's no real reason for this. I mean, it's a great idea to not know that if you piss your sister off she might accidentally freeze you. Family secrets are the way forward, y'all.
See also: this
Elsa: moron. To be fair to Elsa, she's had a pretty messed up childhood, locked up by herself, terrified that she's going to go on some kind of freezing rampage. It's not that surprising that the girl's got issues. So maybe we can forgive her for running away from her problems, refusing to go back and take responsibility for freezing her entire kingdom, making ice-spikes at anyone who goes near her, and setting a huge, violent and terrifying snowman on her little sister. Maybe. But really, Elsa, you're not even going to have a little bit of a bash at unfreezing something? You can create spangly dresses and SENTIENT BEINGS out of thin air, and it doesn't occur to you for one second that you might be powerful enough to find a way to melt some snow?
Hans: actually only a minor moron. I mean, he's not a nice guy, obvs. But he seems to be able to do thinking, what with all the plotting and manipulating. However, Hans loses points for not remembering the simple thing that is the undoing of many a movie villain: if you want someone dead, then make sure that they are dead. If you leave them to die on their own, they will invariably not die, and then you'll be punched in the face and put in a cage on a boat.
Olaf: not all moron. Olaf is allowed to be a moron, he is made of snow. And still his plan to save Anna is better than any other plan in this film.
Kristoff: moron. Everything has suddenly become frozen. It feels, by your own admission, "magical". You very quickly learn that the Queen is behind it. Yet it somehow takes you HALF THE DAMN FILM to remember that you once saw the entire royal family getting ice-related help from your adoptive-grandfather, and conclude that maybe you should go and see him and see if he's got any bright ideas this time. Although, let's be honest, he wasn't the biggest help on that occasion, apart from the unfreezing (see above). Also, why are you letting Anna direct this mission? You drive a sled around the mountains FOR A LIVING; this girl thought she could make her way across the kingdom and up in the dark, in a party frock. Outdoor survival skills are clearly not her thing. And, you know, there's also the whole reindeer thing.
Sven: reindeer. Possibly not a moron, I don't really know how reindeer think.
The entire population of Arendelle: morons. They let the one surviving, non-ice-wielding, member of the royal family ride off into the night on her own, with no map, provisions, or brains. They then let some dude from the Seven Isles take charge, despite the fact that there has been no monarch for THREE YEARS, so they either already have some kind of regent or other decision-making person/body in place, or they are really good at coping with a power vacuum. They are all also seemingly easily pleased - "The queen is back now and appears to have stopped creating giant spiky ice defences but can we be sure she isn't going to freeze the kingdom ag.... oooooh, ice skates!"
The Trolls: morons. Yeah, alright, just ignore the fact that Anna is ENGAGED and try to force her into marrying someone else. What's that about? On the other hand, they are responsible for the best line in any Disney song ever.
Anna: amazingly idiotic moron. I'm going to agree to marryt he first guy that speaks to me EVER. I'm going to be surprised when my sister doesn't think that's the best idea in the world. I'm going to run off into the night on my own to find her even though I've never been anywhere ever, and I don't have the faintest fricking clue where I'm going. I'm going to leave this random stranger who I am now engaged to in charge of my kingdom, even though there is absolutely no need to do this as someone's been running things for three years and might as well keep going. I'm going to throw carrots at this guy until he agrees to take me up the North Mountain. Even though it is late and dark, and my plan of what to do when I get there is the lamest plan in the history of the world. I am going to maintain that my sister would never hurt me, even though I have no idea if that's true or not, and it turns out to emphatically not be. I am going to tell my sister she set off an eternal winter everywhere, even though I've only gone a few miles from home and it's been a couple of days at the most. I am going to sing at her until she either comes back with me, or sets an abonimable snowman on me.
Oaken: not a moron. He is a shrewd businessman, and he has a sauna.
Wednesday, 22 October 2014
Politics and Patriarchy in the Playground. Possibly.
I remember when Moo was treated to her first (but by no means last) parental feminist rant. She must have been about 3, and she was playing in the bath, happily splashing away in one of her make-believe games, when she merrily piped "Boys do the fixing, Moo makes the dinner!". Cue instant FEMINIST RAGE. I asked her where she got that from, knowing full well that it wasn't home, given that home is more "boys and girls do the dinner, nobody does the fixing for several months until we admit we're never going to fix it and buy a new one". She told me that the boys at nursery had said it. I told her that girls could fix things, and boys could make dinner, and she should never let anyone tell her that she has to do something just because she's a girl. I was actually quite calm and restrained, considering all the aforementioned RAGE.
I know, I know. No normal person gets ragey about things like this, only humourless feminists who are determined to take life far too seriously. And of course, boys like certain things, and girls like others, and it's just ridiculous to to fight it, it's in the nature.
Except, of course, that I don't think that's true. Or, more accurately, I don't know how anyone can know that that's true. Perhaps it's true that girls are naturally more predisopsed to playing with dolls and cooking and things that are pink, and boys are naturally more into cars and superheroes and things that are blue. But how are we supposed to know that? Let's be honest, it's not like we give kids the chance to gravitate towards these things of their own accord. The second they're born, babies are wrapped in the appropriate coloured blanket. Before their eyes have even learnt to focus, we're putting certain pictures on their babygros, certain toys in the cots they're not even big enough for. They don't stand a chance.
As it is, my girls love pink things. They love dolls, tea sets, princess dresses, glitter, all of that. And I have nothing against any of that, and they have no shortage of people wanting to buy them that or encouraging them to play those kinds of games. But I do also buy them Spiderman onesies, and fighter pilot costumes, and toy cars. I do give them juice in blue cups, and encourage them to play football on the beach - not because I hate all things girly, but because I want them to know that it's OK for them to like things that aren't. God knows they're taking in enough messages telling them they can't - oft-repeated phrases in this house are "Just because it's blue doesn't mean it's for a boy" and "There are no such things as girls' toys and boys' toys" (along with "Will you please get down off there?" and "Lego Movie? Again? Really?").
However, as so often happens, sometimes these things come back and bite you on the arse. Moo has been a bit grumpy about school lately. More so than usual, I mean. She's pretty grumpy about most things. Almost everyday, she tells me she had no-one to play with. Usually said in a mournful tone, and with big eyes. She knows how to milk it, this one. I take this with a healthy pinch of salt, as she said this all last year too, and yet everyone who's ever come across her in school says she gets on with everyone, and the other children are always waving and shouting to her at hometime. But it seems lately she's been having some falling-outs with her friends, particularly the boys. I think she enjoys being friends with the boys - she's always had close boy-friends, as a lot of the friends I made when I was pregnant with her had boys, so she's been around them all her life. But, as we all know, it ain't easy being a girl in a man's world. I don't know exactly what's happening, but through a combination of garbled conversations and guesswork I think that what might be happening is this: Moo is friends with the boys, and they don't mind playing with her. But only up to a point. And that point is when they want to go off with the other boys and play boys' things, which she can't do because she's a girl. And, being her mother's daughter, she then tells them that she can do anything they can do and they shouldn't tell her that she can't just because she's a girl. And then the boys, because they are five and not particularly interested in discussing gender roles and sterotypes, run away.
It's a problem. Feminism doesn't tell you how to deal with running away. Especially if you're not very fast at running, and a bit clumsy. I don't really know how to help her deal with it. I tell her that not everyone has to want to play with you all the time, and that she should ask other people nicely if she can play with them. I do feel guilty. Perhaps life would be easier for her if she only wanted to play girl things and be friends with girls, and maybe it's my fault she's not like that. (Or maybe it wouldn't be easier, and she'd be falling out with the girls just as often. I don't think she's the most sociable child in the world). But she is who she is. She knows her own mind and isn't afraid to speak it, and will not allow anyone else to define how she should be. And in a world that doesn't always seem to want that from its women and girls, all I can do is tell her how proud I am of her, and hope she stays that way.
I know, I know. No normal person gets ragey about things like this, only humourless feminists who are determined to take life far too seriously. And of course, boys like certain things, and girls like others, and it's just ridiculous to to fight it, it's in the nature.
Except, of course, that I don't think that's true. Or, more accurately, I don't know how anyone can know that that's true. Perhaps it's true that girls are naturally more predisopsed to playing with dolls and cooking and things that are pink, and boys are naturally more into cars and superheroes and things that are blue. But how are we supposed to know that? Let's be honest, it's not like we give kids the chance to gravitate towards these things of their own accord. The second they're born, babies are wrapped in the appropriate coloured blanket. Before their eyes have even learnt to focus, we're putting certain pictures on their babygros, certain toys in the cots they're not even big enough for. They don't stand a chance.
As it is, my girls love pink things. They love dolls, tea sets, princess dresses, glitter, all of that. And I have nothing against any of that, and they have no shortage of people wanting to buy them that or encouraging them to play those kinds of games. But I do also buy them Spiderman onesies, and fighter pilot costumes, and toy cars. I do give them juice in blue cups, and encourage them to play football on the beach - not because I hate all things girly, but because I want them to know that it's OK for them to like things that aren't. God knows they're taking in enough messages telling them they can't - oft-repeated phrases in this house are "Just because it's blue doesn't mean it's for a boy" and "There are no such things as girls' toys and boys' toys" (along with "Will you please get down off there?" and "Lego Movie? Again? Really?").
However, as so often happens, sometimes these things come back and bite you on the arse. Moo has been a bit grumpy about school lately. More so than usual, I mean. She's pretty grumpy about most things. Almost everyday, she tells me she had no-one to play with. Usually said in a mournful tone, and with big eyes. She knows how to milk it, this one. I take this with a healthy pinch of salt, as she said this all last year too, and yet everyone who's ever come across her in school says she gets on with everyone, and the other children are always waving and shouting to her at hometime. But it seems lately she's been having some falling-outs with her friends, particularly the boys. I think she enjoys being friends with the boys - she's always had close boy-friends, as a lot of the friends I made when I was pregnant with her had boys, so she's been around them all her life. But, as we all know, it ain't easy being a girl in a man's world. I don't know exactly what's happening, but through a combination of garbled conversations and guesswork I think that what might be happening is this: Moo is friends with the boys, and they don't mind playing with her. But only up to a point. And that point is when they want to go off with the other boys and play boys' things, which she can't do because she's a girl. And, being her mother's daughter, she then tells them that she can do anything they can do and they shouldn't tell her that she can't just because she's a girl. And then the boys, because they are five and not particularly interested in discussing gender roles and sterotypes, run away.
It's a problem. Feminism doesn't tell you how to deal with running away. Especially if you're not very fast at running, and a bit clumsy. I don't really know how to help her deal with it. I tell her that not everyone has to want to play with you all the time, and that she should ask other people nicely if she can play with them. I do feel guilty. Perhaps life would be easier for her if she only wanted to play girl things and be friends with girls, and maybe it's my fault she's not like that. (Or maybe it wouldn't be easier, and she'd be falling out with the girls just as often. I don't think she's the most sociable child in the world). But she is who she is. She knows her own mind and isn't afraid to speak it, and will not allow anyone else to define how she should be. And in a world that doesn't always seem to want that from its women and girls, all I can do is tell her how proud I am of her, and hope she stays that way.
Wednesday, 15 October 2014
I am.....
(Most of you will know all of this, but just in case you don't, here is some stuff about me)
... 33 years old. On paper. In my head, I'm still about 20 and waiting to become a proper grown-up.
... the mother of two girls, who are three and five years old. To protect their anonymity, even though the vast majority of people who ever read this blog will be people who know full well what their actual names are, they shall be known respectively as Doodle and Moo, which are parts of their actual real-life nicknames. I have not yet decided if this is completely nauseating or not.
... married to a very nice man. He likes to hit things with sticks. Drums, mainly. Not bus stops or wallabies or old people or anything like that.
... an admin worker in the arts. This involves working with loads of interesting and lovely people for not very much money. But there is frequently cake.
.... the kind of ranty feminist who will ruin a perfectly good dinner party by shouting about THE PATRIARCHY!!!. Or I would be if I was the kind of person who goes to dinner parties.
... feeling fairly political of late, as people on my Facebook will have noticed. I'm fairly sure you're supposed to go through your angry leftie phase when you're a student, then mellow out as you get older, but I seem to be not doing that.
... slightly addicted to the internet. I thought I was doing a lot better lately, having given up BabyCentre, Twitter, most of my Facebook groups, and, as a result of disabling every option I could possibly disable on my phone in order to stop it playing videos, having broken Buzzfeed. But I now seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time reading the comments on Guardian articles, which I'm not sure is a good thing at all.
... interested in peace, justice, morality, culture, sport, family life, and the obliteration of all other life forms. All of those things. Oh, except sport.
.... giving you a geek high-five if you get the above reference.
.... not particularly good at thinking of things to blog about. Obviously.
... 33 years old. On paper. In my head, I'm still about 20 and waiting to become a proper grown-up.
... the mother of two girls, who are three and five years old. To protect their anonymity, even though the vast majority of people who ever read this blog will be people who know full well what their actual names are, they shall be known respectively as Doodle and Moo, which are parts of their actual real-life nicknames. I have not yet decided if this is completely nauseating or not.
... married to a very nice man. He likes to hit things with sticks. Drums, mainly. Not bus stops or wallabies or old people or anything like that.
... an admin worker in the arts. This involves working with loads of interesting and lovely people for not very much money. But there is frequently cake.
.... the kind of ranty feminist who will ruin a perfectly good dinner party by shouting about THE PATRIARCHY!!!. Or I would be if I was the kind of person who goes to dinner parties.
... feeling fairly political of late, as people on my Facebook will have noticed. I'm fairly sure you're supposed to go through your angry leftie phase when you're a student, then mellow out as you get older, but I seem to be not doing that.
... slightly addicted to the internet. I thought I was doing a lot better lately, having given up BabyCentre, Twitter, most of my Facebook groups, and, as a result of disabling every option I could possibly disable on my phone in order to stop it playing videos, having broken Buzzfeed. But I now seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time reading the comments on Guardian articles, which I'm not sure is a good thing at all.
... interested in peace, justice, morality, culture, sport, family life, and the obliteration of all other life forms. All of those things. Oh, except sport.
.... giving you a geek high-five if you get the above reference.
.... not particularly good at thinking of things to blog about. Obviously.
Friday, 10 October 2014
Hello There
So. Here is my new blog.
I have been meaning to start this for ages. I was just waiting until I had, ready-crafted in my head, the perfect introductory post about what this blog was going to be about, and how awesome it was going to be, and the incredible emotional journey that led me to start it. But I don't know what this blog is going to be about, nor can I guarantee its awesomeness, and the only journey I make these days is to the fridge to get wine. So I'm just starting it. Hopefully we'll figure out what it's about along the way.
I registered the name for this blog ages ago, very soon after I'd stopped writing the old one. I had wanted to come up with a perfect name, that would encapsulate in one elegant, witty phrase what I and this blog were all about. But see above, I don't actually know. So the name is how my elder daughter once described one of her poos.
Welcome aboard.
I have been meaning to start this for ages. I was just waiting until I had, ready-crafted in my head, the perfect introductory post about what this blog was going to be about, and how awesome it was going to be, and the incredible emotional journey that led me to start it. But I don't know what this blog is going to be about, nor can I guarantee its awesomeness, and the only journey I make these days is to the fridge to get wine. So I'm just starting it. Hopefully we'll figure out what it's about along the way.
I registered the name for this blog ages ago, very soon after I'd stopped writing the old one. I had wanted to come up with a perfect name, that would encapsulate in one elegant, witty phrase what I and this blog were all about. But see above, I don't actually know. So the name is how my elder daughter once described one of her poos.
Welcome aboard.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)