I ran into my friend Carla at Target the other day. We chatted for a bit and she told me she was trying to buy Halloween costumes for her 4-year old twins. “Chris wants to be a princess this year,” she said, clearly annoyed.
“Is that a problem?” I asked innocently, but then a thought hit me. “Which one is Chris?” I asked.
Carla sighed; she became a militant feminist in college and she spent the time she saved not shaving her arms and legs to read ever more radical feminist manifestos, which is when she swore she would never bring children into an “authoritative patriarchal society. ” After she married Jerry they were childless for almost twenty years but then Carla surprised everyone, including Jerry and herself, by producing a set of twins.
Since Carla and Jerry were firmly opposed to “meaningless gender stereotypes” they did not name the kids Patricia and Christopher, nor even Patrick and Christine. I remember the birth announcement: On pale green stationary Carla and Jerry welcomed Pat and Chris without mentioning if they were boys, girls or one of each. When I congratulated Carla on the blessed events and asked the gender of the twins she narrowed her eyes. “What does it matter?” she asked coldly.
Over the years Carla had mellowed somewhat so now, when I asked about Chris’s gender she did not start to rant. “Chris is my daughter,” she said.
“So what’s the big deal that she wants to be princess?” I asked unwisely.
Instantly Carla was on her soapbox about “gender stereotypes” in our patriarchal system. “We’ve raised the twins in a gender neutral home,” said Carla. “I didn’t raise my daughter to be a princess.” She spoke in the aggrieved tone usually used by a mother who has learned that her daughter has quit med school to become a pole dancer.
I nodded, and glanced into her shopping cart. “So what’s with the pirate costume?” I asked.
Carla was dismissive “That’s for Pat,” she said. “He’s easy. But as for Chris….”
I couldn’t help myself. “Why aren’t you getting a gender neutral costume for Pat?” I asked. “Isn’t that a double standard?”
Carla stared at me with her eyes wide. “What?” she asked.
“You have no problem with your son being a pirate, but you don’t want your daughter to be a princess,” I said. “Sounds like you’ve been brainwashed by a corrupt patriarchal system,” I said unkindly.
Carla was a dangerous shade of red. She stared at me for a long moment and then she said, “Good God, you’re right!” and she sped off towards the costume aisle.
I saw her again as we were both checking out. She had decided to dress both kids as skeletons. “You opened my eyes,” she said, “and I thank you. Pat and Chris will both be skeletons this year. Those are perfect gender neutral costumes.”
I was going to ask if Chris’s skeleton had a wider pelvis than Pat’s but I didn’t and as I said good-bye I was wondering if the twins had started therapy yet and how long they’d remain there.
“I’ll post their pictures on my FaceBook page,” Carla said as she waved good-bye. “Make sure you check it out!”
Carla was as good as her word and on November first she posted pictures of the twins dressed in their skeleton costumes. The kids both had their masks on so I was still not sure who was who until I noticed that the skeleton on the right was sporting a shiny silver tiara, looking like a perfect skeletal princess.