I absolutely love some of the chats I have with my children. Motherhood, at this stage, is far more enjoyable than the baby years. For the uninitiated, babies are like all humans. They come with an equal balance of good and not-so-good qualities. They’re not only cute and adorable, but they’re just as complicated as grownups.

 

For starters, they don’t talk! And for an AMA new parent, dealing with changing hormone levels, post-natal depression, and two under two, I kinda blacked out. If truth be told, I was neither calm nor present. I had the veneer of a perfect life but under the surface I was a bumbling mess. Gosh, I wonder how much of it will appear in their therapy sessions in adulthood. I pray that breastfeeding will make up for some of it and that any residual trauma of my emotional upsets will dissipate gracefully.

 

Thankfully, things change and now I have two young people who can express themselves in ways that delight more often than they cause confusion. There were moments back then when I would not know what to do. Patricia was, and still is, my refuge. She’s been with us for nine years and I’ve never ever seen her angry or irritated. Not once. She still wears the exact same smile that drew us to her as she walked towards our table in the restaurant when we first interviewed her, and I was highly pregnant.

 

The one who made me a mommy first has a way of processing things which he blurts at seemingly unrelated times.

 

So, now that I have mini-me’s who can converse it makes the parenting journey far more interesting. Note, I did not say easier. The one who made me a mommy first has a way of processing things which he blurts at seemingly unrelated times.

 

A couple of weeks back, he started a chat about names. He asked if there is a girl with the same name as him, the same for his brother. I started to explain that most African names are unisex but had to catch myself as this is not entirely true. I remembered that I, myself, have a unisex name. I’ve joked that my ambidextrous moniker is the reason I behave like a son in our family. My siblings may say that it’s just me being the eldest bully.

 

This brings me to my thought today. Gender is actually a confusing construct. We have one gender that believes it has the right to laud over the other because sperm carrying a particular chromosome swam faster.

 

This is at the heart of one of society’s biggest myths over eons.

 

If we truly believe that we’re souls having a human experience, gender is superfluous.  We just happen to be inhabiting a particular ‘exterior’ that comes with gender labels. The big problem here is that only two gender labels are ‘mainstream’. This is at the heart of one of society’s biggest myths over eons.

 

Have any of you been to the Cradle of Humankind, Maropeng, and seen models of early humans? You know, the ones who looked more like apes. To me, they all look the same. Gender differences are very slight.

 

I find a similar phenomenon in the animal kingdom. There are some species – where to the untrained eye, like mine – gender is difficult to call out. And yes, we know that there are inherent differences between gender in animals, but I think you can follow my logic.

 

A horse is a horse until you inspect its goods. On our recent ride this holiday, KG was on a horse named ‘Peanut’, mine was ‘Snow’, and Motheo’s was ‘Pinky’. We all assumed that we were riding ‘girls’ and only found out at the end that we were mistaken.

 

Are you starting to understand my agony over the humanlike label, particularly male?

 

Back to babies. Gender differences at first look are not always apparent. To prove this, we even try to make baby girls with no, little or short hair ‘look like girls’ by adorning bows and all sorts of paraphernalia to make them look ‘girly’. Now move this similar thought process to the omnipresent, powerful, indescribable Great Spirit. Are you starting to understand my agony over the humanlike label, particularly male?

 

Here’s a question. As a five-year-old, how did you know that you were heterosexual? If that’s what you, as an adult, currently identify with. You didn’t know. You were assigned that label by your parents, family, community, and broader society. You had no choice.

 

You were born with female genitalia and so pink was your colour and by osmosis, society’s expectations of you permeated every cell of your existence. You had to go to the girl’s bathroom, to wear dresses, keep your hair a certain way, and so on. And let’s not forget that the fairy-tale of finding Prince Charming was also automatically bestowed upon you.

 

I have no deep-seated desire to explore other realms. But what about those who do?

 

Now, knowing everything that I know and have experienced, I am comfortable with my ‘inherited’ heterosexual existence. I have no deep-seated desire to explore other realms. But what about those who do? What about those who are so scared of breaking ‘rules’ to have an experience that is, for the most part, still considered ‘wrong’.

 

I love watching my children, nieces and nephews, and the young people coming up around me. They’re taking gender fluidity to places that I find interesting. It’s something I’m growing to love. Why are we so bothered by things that we don’t want for ourselves? Why do we care so much about what others are doing? Love is love. Isn’t that what Jesus came to preach?

 

Men don’t call themselves “husband, father, son”. You can show me otherwise. I’m here to learn.  

 

The other issue I have is that there’s this general ‘burden’ that’s placed on those who “need to come out”. Think about that for a moment. Someone must tell us who they are. Heterosexuals don’t need to come out. Neither is there a heterosexual flag. I have not seen ‘heterosexual’ as a description for anyone’s social media pages. You know, along with “wife, mother, daughter”. We love labels hey. Men don’t call themselves “husband, father, son”. You can show me otherwise. I’m here to learn.  

 

We will do our kids such a great disservice if they need to “come out” to us.  What is that? If we’re loving, nurturing parents then we should know who our children are! At the very least, we should allow them to express themselves in whichever way they wish, to feel safe, to be protected. Goodness knows it’s a crazy, cruel world out there.

 

I may not understand all the genders and their physical expression, but I’m committed to growth and shattering the stereotypes that were given to me without my permission. This is how we can make a difference, each in our own small way.

 

Merry Christmas, dear hearts.

 

PS: The Santa myth was busted in our home today as our kids and their cousin stumbled on the gifts by accident. But they love the magical story of the benevolent old man and his reindeer flying around the world so much that they “figured it out” themselves. My sister and I are the elves helping Santa and since he has millions of children to attend to, our home was one of the first deliveries. It is Christmas Eve, after all. I love it.

Pic credit @robynwrites

Santa’s elves are ready 🙂