Call for Submissions: What Girls Look Like

We talk about gender in my house on a daily basis. Having a partner who identifies as trans means that perhaps we thought about gender issues more often and more self-consciously than many people to begin with. And now that we are parents, committed to raising a fabulous feminist kid, we think about these things all of the time. The books we read to Ocean, the daydreams we have for her, the games we play with her, the nicknames we make up for her, the ways in which we talk about our family and other families, ourselves and our friends - throughout all of this, J and I engage in a constant process of self-evaluation, thinking about the implications of what we say and choose, and what vision of gender and identity it might teach her. We want to raise a kid who is comfortable in her own skin, and expresses herself without fear or doubt. We want to raise a kid who never questions whether girls should play soccer or play house or play the trombone. We want to raise a kid who understands that both of her parents were born with female bodies, and chose very different ways of inhabiting them. We want to raise a kid who values femininity and masculinity and androgyny, and who doesn't equate biological sex with any of those things.

Of course, the reality on the ground is that we live in a world rife with gendered assumptions, and the most simple acts of daily life can easily bring us into conflict with unstated norms. As anyone who has raised a young child quickly learns, the seemingly innocuous task of dressing your infant opens the floodgates of gendered assumptions and advice. We often dress Ocean in blue, and in outfits that probably came from the "Boys" section of the store. We do this in part because we like blue and brown and "boyish" things. We do this in part because putting frilly dresses on a baby of any sex seems ridiculous. And we do this mainly because 3/4 of our baby clothes (all of which are hand-me-downs) came from little boys. This leads to constant conversations with strangers that go something like this:

Them: How cute! How old is he?

Us: Thank you! She's three months.

Them (looking mortified): Oh, I'm so sorry! She!

Us (big smile): Don't worry. She hasn't chosen her preferred pronouns yet!

Them: Oh... [weak smile. confused look. walk away.]

Okay, fine, I'm exaggerating a little. Usually we just smile and say no big deal. Sometimes we don't correct people at all. In general, it's not a huge thing.

But then in the car the other night, my mother said, in a mock teasing voice, to Ocean, "Oh poor Ocean, they just won't let you wear dresses and be a girl!" This irked me for several reasons. First of all, though she claimed to be just teasing, the comment seemed rooted in some fundamental anxiety around gender roles and expression, and, protective parent that I am, I don't want my kid to become the locus of other people's gender trouble. Second, and more importantly, it implied that there is in fact a particular way to "be a girl," and that, by dressing her in striped onesies instead of pink frillies, we are somehow denying Ocean the right to her natural gender expression. Now, when Ocean is old enough to pick out her own clothes, she can wear anything she wants (and strong-willed baby that she already is, I have no doubt that she will indeed have her opinions). She can wear cute dresses, she can wear jeans and sweatshirts, she can wear three-piece suits. We will support her in whatever ways she chooses to express herself.

And in the meantime, I want to put together a little photo essay here on the site of what "girls" look like. I'm interested in a visual representation of all of the different ways in which people who identify or have at some time identified as female express themselves. So here's the deal:

Email me a picture of yourself (from now, or from your childhood). If you want, include some information about yourself (name? age? anything you think is relevant). Optionally, include a blurb about what gender means to you and your identity. I want to hear from butch girls, femme girls, andro girls, people born with vaginas who don't identify as girls at all, people born with penises who do. I want to hear from people who were girls and now are women; people who were girls and now are men; people who never were either, and still choose not to claim one gendered label over the other. Send your pictures and blurbs to me at queerbabymaking@gmail.com, by January 10th (***note the new deadline!***). I'll collect and post them by the end of the year.

Thanks!

The Obama Nation

It feels almost cliche to write about the presidential election, especially now, more than a week after the fact. And then too, there's so much to say. How can I hope to capture a fraction of it in these fifteen spare minutes? Parenthood, the craziest, most exciting, most intense thing I've ever done, takes up so much time that it's often hard to write about it, even the moments that I find most important.

But even in the face of incompleteness and imperfection, I want to take a quick second to write about what it means to me to be a parent in this new political moment. I have been emotional about this election for a long time now. Even before Barack Obama was the official democratic nominee, I would get weepy thinking about the very possibility of a person of color being our president. By the end of my pregnancy this summer, they just had to mention his name on NPR to elicit a flow of tears. And then, last Tuesday, when he won the election (and won in such a beautifully clear, mandated, definitive way), I was so completely overjoyed that I simply couldn't speak.

It makes me so proud that my kid will grow up with a black president. This thing that was simply unimaginable during my own childhood has happened in time for hers, and I really do think that it will fundamentally shape some part of her identity. Of course, this isn't just about my kid- this election, this presidency, will profoundly change the ways in which children across the country, across the world, imagine the possibilities for their own futures. I'm not naive; I know that Obama is not going to be our saviour. He won't singlehandedly fix everything that is wrong with this country, and he will undoubtedly do things that anger and frustrate me. But, for young people everywhere, for my daughter, to grow up understanding that he, a black man from a poor family raised by a single mom, is the face of our nation, how can this not expand our imaginative potential? How can it not allow children everywhere to think of new futures, new roles, new paths? Our understanding of what it means to be American is subtly shifting, and I am so very proud.

And, in a sign that perhaps she understands more than I give her credit for, Ocean starting sleeping through the night on election day. Thank you, President Obama.

All the difference that a year can make...

A year ago today, I had the insemination that eventually resulted in the marvelous Ocean Rae. It seems so long ago now, another lifetime almost. Neither of my friends who normally did my inseminations were in town, so I found an amazing homebirth midwife, who came to my house and performed them for me, one on November 10th, and one on November 11th. On the 11th, which is, I believe, the day on which I actually conceived, my friend Jonna came over to help out with the insemination- holding the flashlight, holding my hand, hanging out with me afterwards as I laid around on my bed, wondering if this was finally it. Jonna was there when I first began thinking about getting pregnant, going with me to clinics, learning about sperm banks, and figuring it all out. She was there when Ocean was conceived, and, nine months later, she was there when Ocean was born. I have always felt lucky to have been so loved and supported throughout this long process.

Funny to think that in just a year one can go from a little vial of sperm to this...