Unisex baby names are all the rage at the moment. Department stores are starting to make their toy sections ‘gender neutral’. And I still don’t know if Tweety Bird is male or female.
But that’s still no excuse for calling my daughter a boy.
Yep, I’ve heard it all. “What a gorgeous boy”. “My daughter just had a son too”. “Is he being a good boy for you?”
Well no, my child isn’t being a very good boy. For starters, ‘he’ doesn’t have the main appendage that would indicate the presence of an XY chromosome.
Secondly, ‘he’ is dressed entirely in a pink outfit with rainbows and carrying a bright pink teddy with PRINCESS hand-embroidered across its torso. So unless she pulls a Tonka Truck from her ass and lifts her leg to fart in your general direction, my daughter is failing epically at the stereotypical ‘boy’ thing.
I accept most babies look unisex at first.
They’re all wrinkly and hunched up, like little squirmy gnomes. But that’s why we invented pink and blue, isn’t it? So you wouldn’t label someone’s kid by the wrong gender? So you wouldn’t have to hear the low growl that escapes my throat as you lean over my pink pimped pram in the shopping aisle? (Don’t worry, I would never REALLY growl. That’s very unladylike and I wouldn’t want to teach my baby girl bad manners. She already has a hard enough time proving she has a vagina).
Maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe it’s because back in the olden days when there were dragons, everyone wanted boys to work the fields and procreate – and girls were left to scrub floors, prick their fingers on sewing machines and marry their hairy kidnapper under the impairment of Stockholm Syndrome (back then they called it ‘Love’). So then if anyone was seen outside with a baby it MUST be a boy, because girls and kitchens right?
Then again, maybe I didn’t give enough hints.
I mean that pink dress could easily be confused for a muumuu. And those toenails I painted on her when I was feeling bored one night (don’t judge me) could also be indicative of an extremely premature teenage boy ‘emo’ phase.
On a side note, have you ever noticed that many species of male butterfly have streaks of pheromone-producing scales on their forewings? Of course, you didn’t. Just like you obviously didn’t notice the BIG PURPLE butterfly on the BRIGHT PINK dummy protruding from her MOUTH.
That’s OK though, you never have to see me again. And she could always grow up to be a raging lesbian anyway (which I’d be totally happy with by the way).
Just next time you approach a stranger’s pram to see the baaaaaaby, please utilise your awesome powers of perception before you pass comment to the ragged, sleep deprived, hormonal, quick-to-anger mother behind the wheels.
Has this ever happened to you? SHARE your thoughts with us in the comments below.
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