With my youngest son I have had to take greater consideration in whether or not I should encourage, discourage, or just remain neutral on anything society would call a gender defining action. From a very young age he has had little care for what is considered a girl vs boy activity, toy, or even clothing item. I myself could care less. If he wanted to dance around in princess clothes while digging his cars in the dirt, as long as he was happy, why should I tell him he shouldn't. Isn't that what parents strive for? Healthy, happy, well adjusted kids? So neutrality has become my stance.
My family tells me it's because Luke's favorite playmate is his older sister. I have, on several occasions, found them playing dress up together, both clad in fluffy dresses and high heel shoes. He is the only one who will play house with her, or dolls, or do arts and crafts. He loves to dance, and sing, and skip around, then run off on a Zombie Hunt with his older brother. So I then think, he seems to be pretty neutral as well.
I would say my first moment of question regarding the approach of "nothing is specifically for a boy or a girl" happened while school shopping this fall. My baby boy was now going out into the world of judgement, peer pressure, and bullies. And what did he want to arm himself with for this first day of kindergarten?.....a blue glitter notebook with matching glitter pencils. Once again, I personally, could care less. But then the dilemma came to light. Should I let him bring this to school? Will he get picked on? Will he feel bad about himself for liking this little insignificant notebook? Will he then feel shame? Shame. One of the reasons I have remained so neutral on his choices over the years. I never want my child to feel badly about himself for something that makes him who is.
Then one day during soccer practice his cleats broke. The only ones around that would fit him were pink. What did he do? He proudly laced them on, ran on the field, and exclaimed "Look everybody, I'm wearing pink cleats!!" Then proceeded to kick his ball around, head held high with pride. Its those moments that I think I must be doing something right. That is my little boy out there running his heart out, clad in pink cleats, prancing down the field when he scores a goal, and he's happy. What more could a mother want. I'm not naive, I know that middle school could be cruel, and high school could be worse. But I want him to go into it feeling confident in his own skin, and knowing that no matter what, his family is his judgement free zone.
