A Gender-ish Wknd
This weekend, we went to the free outdoor family events offered through Lincoln Center's summer stage. We settled into some seats about five rows from the stage and caught the last few minutes of Fraulein Maria, a gender-bending revisioning of The Sound of Music. There were three couples dancing on stage, and both my girls leaned forward at the same time, squinting their eyes.
"That's two women," my older one said matter-of-factly, pointing to the couple on the left.
I looked closer and realized she was right. "Yup." It was actually obvious, now that I saw the curves under the tux of the short-haired blonde.
"Hey," said my little one on my other side. "That's two boys!" She leaped up and pointed to the couple on the right.
I grinned. Indeed, it was. The man in the skirt did an amazing arrondete or whatever.
So, then the girls turned their attention to the couple in the center -- the heterosexual one. After a few twirls, the male partner leaped into the woman's arms and wrapped his legs around her waist. So, the skirted woman did all the lifts while her panted male partner did the twirls and hip-jiggling.
When it was over, we waited for the Step Africa dancers to get ready for their performance and revisited some of the conversations we've had about how Heather can have two mommies, and men sometimes marry men (at least in Canada and some other places). So, of course, it was quite natural that the best pedicure we saw all day came with hairy toes and forearms and the best princess outfit came complete with a five o'clock shadow.
At one point, the older one asked, "So why do some kids at school think that mens kissing other mens is gross?"
I drew in a deep breath as my brain raced for possible answers. I could go with something text-bookish that would have her eyes glaze over, or I could try the "Sometimes birds like birds and bees like bees," talk . . . or I could point to the ice cream cart and yell, "Chocolate chip ice cream!"
After a quick sidelong glance to confirm that she was, in fact, still waiting for an answer, I opted for, "Um, cuz kissing's gross?"
She giggled. "Yeah. Blech."
I exhaled slowly, lost in composing future discussions along these lines. For the moment I was okay with my response, though I knew I'd have to delve into the complexities of power and division politics at some point in the future.
For now, my seven-year-old has her sights set on the quiet, industrious Puerto Rican boy who was in her class last year, while my four-year-old has decided she will marry an older woman. And I can rest easy knowing that no matter where they end up, they will find like-minded people, community, and love.
"That's two women," my older one said matter-of-factly, pointing to the couple on the left.
I looked closer and realized she was right. "Yup." It was actually obvious, now that I saw the curves under the tux of the short-haired blonde.
"Hey," said my little one on my other side. "That's two boys!" She leaped up and pointed to the couple on the right.
I grinned. Indeed, it was. The man in the skirt did an amazing arrondete or whatever.
So, then the girls turned their attention to the couple in the center -- the heterosexual one. After a few twirls, the male partner leaped into the woman's arms and wrapped his legs around her waist. So, the skirted woman did all the lifts while her panted male partner did the twirls and hip-jiggling.
When it was over, we waited for the Step Africa dancers to get ready for their performance and revisited some of the conversations we've had about how Heather can have two mommies, and men sometimes marry men (at least in Canada and some other places). So, of course, it was quite natural that the best pedicure we saw all day came with hairy toes and forearms and the best princess outfit came complete with a five o'clock shadow.
At one point, the older one asked, "So why do some kids at school think that mens kissing other mens is gross?"
I drew in a deep breath as my brain raced for possible answers. I could go with something text-bookish that would have her eyes glaze over, or I could try the "Sometimes birds like birds and bees like bees," talk . . . or I could point to the ice cream cart and yell, "Chocolate chip ice cream!"
After a quick sidelong glance to confirm that she was, in fact, still waiting for an answer, I opted for, "Um, cuz kissing's gross?"
She giggled. "Yeah. Blech."
I exhaled slowly, lost in composing future discussions along these lines. For the moment I was okay with my response, though I knew I'd have to delve into the complexities of power and division politics at some point in the future.
For now, my seven-year-old has her sights set on the quiet, industrious Puerto Rican boy who was in her class last year, while my four-year-old has decided she will marry an older woman. And I can rest easy knowing that no matter where they end up, they will find like-minded people, community, and love.