Sometimes having a critical mind is painful – correction for me it is always painful. It’s painful because it causes you reflect on yourself, your behaviour and your role in maintaining injustice. For me (I can’t speak on behalf of my husband) it causes me to feel guilty. I feel guilt for not spending enough ‘quality’ time with my children, I feel guilty for getting frustrated and angry at my children, I feel guilty for not cleaning as much as I should, then I feel guilty for not spending enough time on my work. I also feel frustrated because I don’t think I am doing enough to change the shit things that are happening around me.
Sometimes I think it would be easier on me, my children, and my family if we just bobbed along in this sea, oblivious to the world around us. I know for a fact I would be less frustrated and angry if I ignored it all. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can do that, and I know that both my daughters have developed a sharp and critical view on the world. It was bound to happen they’ve grown up immersed in discussions about race relations in Australia, global politics, immigration policies, taxes, gender stereotypes – all of this just at the dinner table with my family and friends! There was really no hope with their Fairy Book Mother and Uncle Viking, the offspring were bound to be cynical observers of the world. So, what happened on Saturday has again brought into focus my fears for my daughters, especially my eldest. Ok, let me give you a very short back story – we have never gender stereotyped our daughters, in fact we have gone out of our way to challenge the gender binaries of our society. We have always explained to our children that there are no such things as ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ toys, colours, clothes or activities and that yes, we may have specific sexual organs, the concept of male and female, boy and girl are socially constructed in a way that oppresses one gender. We have always said that we are human and how we chose to represent ourselves physically is a personal choice and doesn’t determine or define us. Unfortunately, not everyone thinks like this and now retrospectively I fear this may cause my daughters, especially me eldest harm. My eldest daughter likes to wear clothes that most people would consider ‘masculine’ and has a shaved pixie cut hairstyle, ergo ‘she looks just like a boy!’ None of the family or our friends have a problem with the way she decides to represent herself, but I can’t say the same about the rest of society. On Saturday we went to a birthday party, it was a lovely party and it seemed as though everyone was playing well with each other until ... my eldest came up to me looking upset here’s the transcript: Me: what’s up? ED: A and T are calling me names, they’re calling me a Fa’afafine (Fa’afafine are Samoan biological males who behave in a range of feminine ways, they are considered to be a third gender in Samoan society). Me: Ok, leave it with me. Thank you for telling me, how about you go and find something else to do. I was shocked, not because a boy was harassing her – unfortunately this is not the first time a boy has verbally and physically harassed her because she doesn’t prescribe to gender stereotypes, we have had at least 4 in Samoa that I know of and trust me I did not hold back! I was shocked because A who is friends with my daughter went along with the name calling. Granted child A is 4 years younger than my daughter and I understand that it is an unfortunate human trait to go along with the masses, but for me it demonstrated quite clearly how children as young as 5 are reproducing harmful stereotypes and the power adults have in re-enforcing these norms that are damaging to all. Thankfully A’s mother is a superstar, a powerful, intelligent and strong Samoan woman who was not offended by my discussion with her in regard to this but appreciated the fact that I brought this to her attention. A testament to both parents, they dealt with it quickly, quietly and swiftly and as it turns out A didn’t even know what the boy was talking about and felt terrible for hurting someone’s feelings like that. The boy on the other hand, we decided a birthday party was probably not the best time to discuss their fucked-up world views on gender, feminism and social justice – we will save that for vigorous discussions over gin. How do I arm my eldest offspring with the tools to deal with this? How do I resist telling all these little fuckwits to take a long walk off a short pier?
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