While my 8-year-old daughter, Lily, tossed a football around with her dad, an unfamiliar father strolled by and couldn’t help but comment on her impressive skills. It was unclear whether he truly appreciated her talent as a girl, but the implication was certainly there. After this backhanded “compliment,” I heard my husband say, “Yeah, she’s got two brothers.” My heart sank. The suggestion that Lily’s football skills were remarkable because she’s a girl, coupled with the idea that her brothers somehow influenced her abilities, struck a nerve I didn’t even know I had until I became a parent.
Growing up, I was aware of the different expectations placed on me compared to my brother. As a teenager, I absorbed the cautionary tales my parents shared with my sisters and me but never with him. In my early adulthood, I accepted that I would earn less than my male peers and often experienced unwanted attention while walking through town. I didn’t dwell on these disparities at the time; I appreciated my parents’ concern but couldn’t shake the feeling that my achievements were overshadowed by compliments about my appearance.
I had resigned myself to the idea of gender inequality in society—it wasn’t always blatant, but it was present. Conversations about injustice were often sidelined in my life, and I had never felt inspired to take action or change my path. I was no Gloria Steinem.
Then I became a mother to a daughter.
I know I’ll likely caution Lily more than my son, Alex, about dangers in the world. It’s a truth I won’t deny. I’ll instill in her the belief that she can excel in any field—be it science, art, politics, or sports—and that she deserves equal treatment. I’ll teach her that when someone expresses surprise at her skill due to her gender, she can respond with a confident “thank you” or “I’ve been practicing,” without feeling obligated to explain further.
I’m not oblivious. Growing up around boys can certainly help a younger sister develop her skills—this applies to any sibling dynamic. But not all boys are into sports, and not all girls are drawn to dolls. A child’s interests can’t be forced, and achievements belong to the individual, not their siblings. Interestingly, I doubt that fathers of boys ever feel the need to qualify their sons’ athletic abilities.
Lily can throw and catch a football not because of her brothers, but because she has practiced. Her talent stands on its own merit. She needs no qualifiers for her achievements, and I’m resolute in this belief.
While I shy away from heavy labels and propaganda, if teaching my wonderful, sensitive, imaginative, athletic, and undeniably adorable daughter these lessons equates to feminism, then I’m proud to embrace it. For more insights on parenting and fertility, check out this post on home intracervical insemination. If you’re interested in enhancing your fertility, you can read up on fertility supplements, which are excellent resources in this area. Additionally, for comprehensive information on pregnancy, visit this Wikipedia page on in vitro fertilisation.
Summary:
My journey into feminism began with my daughter’s experiences, where I recognized the need to challenge gender biases and empower her. I aim to instill in her a sense of independence and confidence, free from societal labels and expectations.
Keyphrase: Feminism through Parenting
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