I Always Wanted To Be A Girl With A Beard

What someone’s genitals look like when they are born doesn’t actually give us an accurate indication of who they will be.”

(Fucks sake, that ‘tash is doing you no favours, love)

Well, it sort of does though, doesn’t it?

I mean, when you have a baby, if it has a penis it’s male, if it has a vulva, it’s female*. It’s sort of been going on since the dawn of time and now everyone is acting like knowing your gender is some terrible, new fangled idea that is out to get us all.

“Searyl’s private parts are private, whether they conform to the biological standard or not, like you said it’s not actually about the definition and gender identity which will develop later in life”

See, my problem with that is what is Searyl is a boy who loves trucks, trains and wants to run about in his pants jumping in mud and play fighting with other boys?

Or what if Searyl is a girls and she inexplicably loves all things pink and glittery and would hug a turd if it was covered in sparkles?

Would the parent be okay with that?

Oh, I know what you are going to say – that not all boys and girls conform to gender stereotypes; it’s down to how they are brought up.

I don’t care what anyone says, the child in that article is in for a bumpy ride, not just because it’s mother or father (help?) is fucking bonkers and attention seeking, but because he or she is already marked out as different.

Unless you keep them in a cave, away from everything and everyone that you don’t approve of, then they will develop their own like and dislikes, and sometimes (most of the time) they will be gender specific.

Have you heard parents get their knickers in a twist over “boys toys” and “girls toys”? Or shops where the boys section and girls section are segregated (Hamley’s has a floor for girls toys and a floor for boys toys), or moaning about gender specific Kinder eggs?

Happens all the time.

It’s all you ever hear these days, “Oh my God, my son got given the Power Rangers toy in a kids meal, but he wanted the Barbie one. I’m never eating at that restaurant again, bigoted bastards!”

But have you ever actually heard hordes of children complaining? They couldn’t give a shit, and the most ridiculous thing is, most little boys would want the Power Rangers and most little girls would want the Barbie. Why do you care so much about a toy that will be forgotten about in ten minutes and be left to rot under the back seat of your car anyway?

It’s because it’s usually not a problem for the child; it’s a problem for the parents. 

Go on your Facebook or Instagram right now and see how many posts there are from parents having a little brag that their son dressed as a princess at pre school today, or that he’s asked to put on Mummy’s sparkly nail varnish. 

There will be loads of parents all saying the same thing: “MY SON LIKED THE  PINK, GLITTERY SHOES SO I BOUGHT HIM FIVE PAIRS AND A TUTU.”

High fives and smiley faces all round.

What they are actually saying is “LOOK AT ME! I’M SO COOL. GENDER DOESN’T MEAN A THING TO ME.”

Yes, yes. Big round of applause, you are soooooo 2017. Well done you. Your kid will probably be bored shitless of the tutu by bedtime and never go near it again, but at least you’ve got the Instagram photo to show that you are are cool parent. You get even more points if he’s wearing a builders hard hat with that tutu, because hey, look at your oblivious two year old who only cares about getting some more crisps smashing those stereotypes!

I have had a boy and a girl.

I have never swayed them to be anything other than what they want to be, but they are total gender stereotypes and that is okay, It’s fine by me, I’ll buy them what ever tacky shit they are into at the time.

For my son, it has always been Bob The Builder, Fireman Sam, Star Wars, Nerf Guns, violent computer games and anything he could point and shoot at – archery stuff, darts; if he could aim at something and pretend to kill, he was happy.

But, his hobbies while growing up included dancing and drama, and he was often the only boy in those classes. Big shits, I didn’t care about what he wanted to do as long as he was enjoying it. Now he’s 14, he’s back to the shooting and wants to join the forces. He’s grown up to be a big fella and would look daft dancing about now, so I think a tank will suit him better anyway.

My girl fucking loves pink. Somedays she looks like something a unicorn has puked up. I have to play with fucking barbies and pretend to coo over little babies and kittens who in her words are “adoooooorableeeeeeee……oooooooo…….let’s snuggle them”.  However, she loves a fight. She is only three so I can’t comment on how she will turn out, but again, meh, I don’t care.

The point is that it’s the parents who are causing a lot of the problems.

When I was a little girl, I insisted on being called Bob for a short while. In my head, I was a farmer called Bob who bred cows for a living and had a wife called Pat who looked like Sybil from Faulty Towers (I was an odd, odd child). Everyone knew about my made up life and thought it was funny. These days, I would have been marched to a gender specialist, given counselling and been put on hormone therapy to achieve my dream of being Bob the bovine farmer.

I know the woman/man/whatever the fuck they call themselves in the article loves their child and wants to do their best for them but please – is marking them out as different from birth really the best way to go about it?


*Don’t come at me with medical stories about gender issues – they are comparatively rare**

** I haven’t got a clue on the statistics***

*** And I don’t care 




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