Monday, April 30, 2012
Family Home Evening
Friday, April 20, 2012
My Little Misogynist

“I just don’t like girls,” announced 3 ½ year old Seth the other day.
“Why don’t you like girls?” I questioned, trying to figure out what was behind this statement.
“I just don’t like them.” was as far as he would elaborate.
“But, Seth, I’m a girl.” I informed him, then went on to list all the women in his life that he definitely liked: Grammy, Mémère, Aunties, McKinley Hafen and Millie Ames (two little girls he likes to play with).
Undeterred, he explained that he liked me and the rest of the people I’d mentioned, he just didn’t like OTHER girls.
Logic had carried me as far as it was going to go, we were at an impasse.
Along with the girl hating comments, he began to mention a specific girl in his preschool that he didn’t like, Seth displayed an extreme aversion to the color pink. This was shared by his older brother. Despite trying to reinforce the work of his preschool teachers, who told the class that there were no boy colors or girl colors, and my patient explanation that pink was really just light red (red is his favorite color), his intense dislike of the color persisted. So much so that if either of my boys got the pink plastic cup or plate in their place at mealtime, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Their father valiantly tried to set a good example.
“Give me the pink plate,” he would say to Seth, whose job it was to set the table “I LOVE pink!”
How could this have happened to me, a feminist, who admittedly, doesn’t wear a lot of pink, how can I be raising a misogynist?

