When I went in to get the exciting four-month ultrasound, my doctor’s office forgot to tell me that I was supposed to fill my bladder to the point of bursting. That meant the fetus had plenty of room to maneuver when the technician was chasing it with the ultrasound wand, and maneuver it did — not so much that she couldn’t get images of everything necessary, but enough so that she couldn’t be certain what sex it is. I was disappointed at first, but now that I’m venturing into the wide world of baby-stuff-buying and gender-obsession, I’m glad I can tell people who might be buying me shower gifts, “We don’t know what it is for sure.”
Even before this baby is born, it is being assigned gender attributes. The first sign is in all the baby accoutrement — everything is already gender-divided, with boys’ stuff featuring trucks and footballs (and also adorable hedgehogs, which would be just as adorable on a girl, only the blue color palette signifies “boys only!”) and girls’ things almost invariably pink and dotted with flowers or lady bugs (I admit, if I knew I were having a girl, it would be lady bugs on everything — they were my favorite as a baby). Even the cut of the clothes is different, with newborn girls’ outfits featuring dress-like tops as opposed to the utilitarian lines of the boys’ clothes. The second sign is how people judge the baby’s attributes, even before it is born. My mother, enchanted with the ultrasound pictures, declared that the fetus “looks like a boy.” Several people whom I’ve told that the baby moves a lot have said, “That’s because it’s a boy.”
There is a new book out called Pink Brain, Blue Brain: How Small Differences Grow Into Troublesome Gaps — And What We Can Do About It
…scientists dressed newborns in gender-neutral clothes and misled adults about their sex. The adults described the “boys” (actually girls) as angry or distressed more often than did adults who thought they were observing girls, and described the “girls” (actually boys) as happy and socially engaged more than adults who knew the babies were boys. Dozens of such disguised-gender experiments have shown that adults perceive baby boys and girls differently, seeing identical behavior through a gender-tinted lens. In another study, mothers estimated how steep a slope their 11-month-olds could crawl down. Moms of boys got it right to within one degree; moms of girls underestimated what their daughters could do by nine degrees, even though there are no differences in the motor skills of infant boys and girls. But that prejudice may cause parents to unconsciously limit their daughter’s physical activity. How we perceive children—sociable or remote, physically bold or reticent—shapes how we treat them and therefore what experiences we give them. Since life leaves footprints on the very structure and function of the brain, these various experiences produce sex differences in adult behavior and brains—the result not of innate and inborn nature but of nurture.
Who knows, at one time and in some societies there might have been a benefit to encouraging strong gender differences — perhaps it makes division of labor more straightforward and, thus, more efficient, for example. However, I see no reason to encourage such things in our society. When two-incomes are a necessity, when individualism and self-expression is valued, this means less parity and more individual frustration. But, most importantly, when exaggerated gender roles seem to play a role in sexism and violence against women, emphasizing the separation and differences between male and female seems downright irresponsible.
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In my own gendered-interest world (oh, the irony — I enjoy being a girl!), I have to record that maternity jeans suck. Unless you want to dole out more than $100 for something you will wear for only a few months, the choices are limited — and frumpy. It’s like the clothing industry wants to force young women into mom jeans. I found a pair of light gray Liz Lange skinny jeans
The boots, however, have three inch wedge heels, which is an inch higher than the pregnancy police would have you wear. I thought I would be defiant, but soon found that an altered center of gravity makes rules like that kind of reasonable. Tottering is not chic. So I did what I had to: I went and bought a new pair of boots. They are knee-high equestrian-style boots, so I can pretend to be a pregnant horsewoman, I guess. (I realized today that storytelling is essential when I buy boots. My wedge-heeled boots are for science fiction space adventures and my slouchy buckled boots are for swashbuckling on the the high seas.)
I just ordered a pair of skinny black maternity jeans from the Gap. We’ll see how those work out.
