Mrs Woog’s post about he 5 year old son Jack being denied entry into princess dance classes hit a nerve…
Aidan is a boy, he’s not quite 2 years old and he loves trucks, trains and planes. He rushes to the front of the house to watch the garbage truck come by and thankfully we live near a RAAF base because every afternoon we watch the planes fly by. He likes to get dirty outside and do gardening, it’s his job to water the plants. He runs about playing with the dogs getting covered in drool and tries to ride them like ponies. He likes to run, jump and scream. He loves nothing more than a wrestle or a tickle fight. My boy is a rough nut.
Aidan is a boy, he’s not quite 2 years old and he loves to dance. He also loves my handbags, watching me put my make up on and wears all my necklaces. He likes to choose his own clothes, dance with me in the lounge room and sing along to every song he hears, even if he dosen’t know the words. He likes to hold his friends hands and give them kisses. He likes to put a nappy on his teddy and rock him to sleep. He likes to whisper, giggle and squeal. He likes to wear lip balm. He likes to sit and read books for hours, even on his own and he loves art and craft.
Apparently my son can only fit into one of these personalities as far as the general public is concerned and preferably the one involving trucks, anything else makes people uncomfortable. I love all that he is. I’ve often been put in an awkward position and automatically, like a knee jerk reaction, I make a joke referring to the possibility of my son being gay. In my rational mind I’m kicking myself mid-sentence. I know better. I’m bisexual myself. How can I or anyone else for that matter, label my child’s sexuality before he even knows himself. So, if my son asks me to enroll him in Princess Dance Classes… I will.
Experiencing joy should not be dictated by age, gender or sexual orientation.