Like This Girl

​When I was twelve years old, I sat in the kitchen talking on the phone to Stuart Latham. I wasn't allowed to have a phone in my room yet, so I perched at the kitchen table, and doodled while Stuart and I explored what it meant to "go together". We gossiped, we got to know each other, we tried our hand at flirting, we listened to each other breathe if we couldn't think of anything to say. We could talk… or breathe... for hours on end.

​One day in particular, after a good long talk without too much breathing time, I hung up the phone and walked out into the hall, probably with a dopey grin on my face, and ran into my mom who was just standing there expressionless. It was obvious that she had been listening to my end of the conversation. (I was in the kitchen after all.) We stood staring at each other for a second when she finally said, "I can tell you were on the phone with a boy. I shouldn't be able to tell that. I don't like it."

I stood there.

After a moment of defensiveness passed, I was aware that she was one hundred percent right.

Even then, at twelve, I understood the importance of what she said.

In a small way, I had betrayed myself. 

I thought by myself for a minute and decided that never again, not for a moment, not even for a hormone induced moment, would I change, because she was right-- I had pandered, my voice went up an octave, and down a decibel.

Ick.

She was right and I knew it.

I was me.

And I should be me no matter who was on the other end of that phone. Boy or girl.

The Sandlot is on Netflix and the kids have been watching it on a running loop these days. In it, one of the rascally boys delivered the lowest blow at the pinnacle of an insult competition that made everyone hold their breath amazed by his audacity to go there. The low blow was this: You play baseball LIKE A GIRL.  

A while ago now an ad went viral that asked girls what it meant to do something "like a girl". When they asked young girls to run like a girl, with fist-pumping tenacity, they sprinted ahead. When the marketers asked teenage girls to run like a girl, they flopped around useless, like a fish out of water. It was startling and disheartening to see that somewhere along our paths we have apparently picked up the message that feminine equals weak.

Gender issues seem to be coming up a lot lately around our house and I have some thoughts on the topic.

You know when you learn a romance language, you learn that nouns have gender assignments and those assignments just are? There is no debate. A car is a masculine word, and a skirt is a feminine word. But a motorcycle just so happens to be a feminine word, and a necklace is actually masculine. And so it goes. It just is. Mostly predictable, but often times not. 

And maybe the reason it so peacefully is is because in this case of grammatical gender, masculine is no better than feminine and feminine is no better than masculine, they are just categories that define something-- sometimes not really even all that well. And because there's no skewed value system, gender is no big deal. 

Here's my problem: I like the ad. I really do. Something is terribly wrong when feminine equals weak, because that is not true. But I reject any implication that girls need to be like boys in order to not be considered weak because that is not true either.

I love my femininity. There are gifts the Lord gave to me that serve my family and me well. To deny them because they are most easily labeled feminine would be a betrayal. He gave me desires and drives and proclivities and insights and He gave me those in His image and it is not surrendering to be those things wholly, fully, unabashed. I am me. Who He made and called good. Feminine, masculine, true.

I'm really good at taking care of my babies and keeping a happy home. And when my babies fall, and get bruised, bloodied, or banged up, it is me who they find. They run to me. They will run around their Daddy, weary and bleeding, taking several extra strides to get to me, because my lap is softer, and my words are the words they need. And, you know, it's the darndest thing. I've watched my husband care for boo boos in my absence, and from the outside, I gotta say, it looks just the same. But it must not be, because every single time, it is my mama lap they seek.

I just so happen to be terrible at understanding my car engine and even worse at shooting a basket (nah, it's a toss up). And for me to get to work as a mechanic or a basketball player would be the exact same betrayal as those sweet teenage girls in the ad running all floppy when asked to run like a girl.

I am what I am.

And sometimes that's feminine. Like when I cook a meal I am proud to serve.

And sometimes that's masculine. Like when I lead a group to make an important decision.

(To imply that only women cook great meals because it has been given a feminine assignment is ludicrous. Equally ludicrous is to imply that only men lead important meetings because it has been given a masculine assignment.)

And one is neither better nor worse because they are both ME. To deem my feminine parts less valuable than my masculine parts is to deem the feminine aspect of God as unimportant or unequal. And that's ridiculous! 

Feminine and masculine are different, but they are equal. And our Lord, in whose image we are made, has never had a skewed value system.

Ultimately it isn't about what is masculine or feminine, is about what is true.

A friend of mine was giving a talk recently and read it to me for my thoughts. It was about relationships and it was artistically, thoughtfully, eloquently, and beautifully done, but she hated that it was such a predictably feminine topic.

Why? 

Why is a feminine topic something to be ashamed of? 

She wondered if it should be more unpredictable, less girly, something a man would be interested in. (An exact quote.) 

WHY?! 

Because a feminine topic doesn't matter?! 

Because a feminine topic isn't important?! 

Because a man would have nothing to gain listening to a feminine topic?! 

I would have something to gain listening to a masculine topic! 

Why are we ashamed of our femininity?!?! 

Trying to be masculine when it is not the truth is the same betrayal as defining femininity as weak. 

Together my friend and I worked out that the problem she had with her talk was hers. She saw feminine as silly, boring, less. 

When I was young and someone told me I threw like a girl, my dad taught me to say, "What exactly is it that you thought I was?" 

Right. 

I did indeed throw like this girl. 

And I ran like this girl. 

And I argued like this girl. 

And I cried like this girl. 

And sometimes that was floppy and sometimes that was fierce and sometimes that was timid and sometimes that was excessive, but I was MYSELF. And every now and then aspects of MYSELF got assigned a gender by the world. But what if that was no big deal because "like a girl" didn't mean weak? What if that was no big deal because gender assignments didn't really mean all that much? What if we were just comfortable with femininity whenever it showed up, predictable or not? 

As beautiful as it is, why aren't we just more comfortable with femininity?

Obviously there are issues if most girls flail around like a stringed puppet when asked to run like a girl. Because that's not true. But I reject that we all have to run with skill in order to count because that's not true either.

We have been sent wrong messages and I don't know what they are or when they start. But one thing has come up around here recently. People will often warn us that Seth is going to have a fair bit of work to do when Amelia and Wren are teenagers-- you know, the old jokes about polishing the gun when the date arrives. 

I could never put my finger on what upset me about that when it was said when I was young, (I rolled my eyes every time I heard it), but now that it's being said about my daughter, I know exactly why it doesn't sit well with me. 

Doesn't that tired joke imply less that our daughters are pretty and more that our daughters are going to make poor choices? Doesn't it imply that she can't take charge of a situation or change her mind or say "no"? Doesn't it imply that a man is there to either be a villain or a hero? Again, this is about truth. And those things just aren't true.

By the way, when these questions came my dad's way when I was a teenager, my dad never nodded and agreed and hardy har harred about guns and intimidation.

Loud enough so that I could hear, he said, "Who? Allison?! Please! When a boy picks her up, I just wish 'em luck."

Thank you, Dad.

Because, you're right, I've got this.

That's the message I want Amelia and Wren to get. 

That YOU are enough. 

Whatever you are. 
​
Sometimes feminine, sometimes masculine, always you.