I can pinpoint the moment our daughter began transforming into a stereotypical girl. She was two, and her mother and I took her to Ariel's Grotto, in Disneyland. The restaurant traffics in so-called character dining, meaning the tables are careered by marquee Disney characters—princesses, in our case.
Since well before we had a child, my girlfriend and I considered ourselves enlightened on the subject of gender binaries. The notion that boys are naturally one way and girls another seemed like bullshit, to use a technical term. "Naturally," "natural": these are words designed not to explain but compel. Not every boy loves pointing an imaginary M-16 and not every girl squeals when a tiara is placed on her head. To insist that any child behave in ways that to them feel wrong is to lay the first bricks of what will become an adult prison cell.
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