genderfuck in the kiddie pool
The other day, I was lifeguarding--as I am prone to do given a bad economy, a fickle summer schedule and a need for some meager income--and watched as the mothers in the kiddie pool area stared at a little, half-naked toddler doning a swim diaper and nothing else. Was this little bediapered child a boy? A girl? No one could tell. Ambiguous hair. Ambiguous body. Even the diaper--a Finding Nemo print--offered no clues.
The mothers looked up from the unclothed child to see what daring mother this would be. But, rather than seeing a mother, there was none at all: rather, a bikini-clad teenager stood holding the child's hand. "C'mon, Michelle," said Bikini Babysitter, and I could feel some of the pool-goers inhale in perfect synchronization: a girl! Topless! At this decent establishment! Put a bikini top on, quick!
But from my lifeguard chair, I cheered. While some of the other patrons may have found this babysitter irresponsible--"she can't even remember to put a bathing suit top on the kid?"--or would have done otherwise themselves, I found this babysitter's topless move one to be applauded. The little girl looked like a little boy. Or, for once, this little girl didn't look like a squeezed-down, bite-sized version of an oversexed tweenager. Gender was put in flux, norms were put on hold, and hell, puberty sure as hell hadn't come yet, so why should the baby-sized bikini top?
I can't say if I'll have kids. I can't for sure if they'll be girls. And I don't know if I'll be bringing those girls to the pools. But if I have a babysitter watching after those little girls and taking them to the pool, I'll be sure and leave a note: Pack the kids a lunch. Make sure they wear sunscreen. And never, ever, be afraid of a little genderfucking in the kiddie pool.
The mothers looked up from the unclothed child to see what daring mother this would be. But, rather than seeing a mother, there was none at all: rather, a bikini-clad teenager stood holding the child's hand. "C'mon, Michelle," said Bikini Babysitter, and I could feel some of the pool-goers inhale in perfect synchronization: a girl! Topless! At this decent establishment! Put a bikini top on, quick!
But from my lifeguard chair, I cheered. While some of the other patrons may have found this babysitter irresponsible--"she can't even remember to put a bathing suit top on the kid?"--or would have done otherwise themselves, I found this babysitter's topless move one to be applauded. The little girl looked like a little boy. Or, for once, this little girl didn't look like a squeezed-down, bite-sized version of an oversexed tweenager. Gender was put in flux, norms were put on hold, and hell, puberty sure as hell hadn't come yet, so why should the baby-sized bikini top?
I can't say if I'll have kids. I can't for sure if they'll be girls. And I don't know if I'll be bringing those girls to the pools. But if I have a babysitter watching after those little girls and taking them to the pool, I'll be sure and leave a note: Pack the kids a lunch. Make sure they wear sunscreen. And never, ever, be afraid of a little genderfucking in the kiddie pool.