Gender fender

Anonybabe gets dressed in unisex stuff a lot. Her middle name is actually a boy's name, although it isn't common here and sounds girlish to the American ear. As a rule, I don't push her towards girlie stuff much, unless it's a girlie thing I'm into.

I love flirting with gender lines. I don't know why. Even though I come across as fairly prim and proper when you first meet me, I secretly love thwarting convention. It's pretty childish, probably stems from a repressive upbringing, whatever.

I want Anonybabe to learn what I believe: that although there are biological differences between the sexes (and how), gender roles are a lot more up in the air. They are social constructs that she can flaunt, or abide by, or choose to help redefine. I want her to know she has that freedom.

I don't think Anonybabe looks particularly boyish until I look back on pictures of her dressed all in brown or sporting her blue hoodie with jeans and black converse. Am I turning her into a boring-wardrobed butch kid just because I don't like frills or pink?

I need some broader and more satisfying ideas of what it means to be a woman than the ones I grew up with. It's a little unimaginative to run screaming from nail polish and Aquanet to blue jeans and short hair just because, fuck you, I can. Which is exactly what I did when I went to college. At 18, I went from lipstick and hair bows in Arkansas to baggy khakis and short hair in Illinois. Because I imagined I could finally get away with it. Because I wanted affirmation for something other than the way I looked in a pair of jeans. Because I relished the opportunity to define myself by something other than my looks. The only way I could imagine doing that was to be as nondescript as possible. I was angry. I was sheltered. I was unimaginative and could only think in binary terms: gussied up, or dressed down. Smart or pretty. Female or male.

It has taken me a long time to learn how to try to look good for me. Pregnancy helped with that a lot. Damn, I was in love with my body then.

But I see these pictures of Anonybabe in her blah clothes and I feel like I haven't moved forward much at all. To a place where I can indulge in all the joys of being a woman and the joys of being masculine. To let them all coexist and come to full bloom when and how they may. Anonybabe needs more than just binary options.

Sigh. I've come a long way, baby. But I have a long way to go.

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P.S. Friends of mine: The pink hand-me-downs you sent are getting plenty of play on Anonybabe. She insists on them frequently.