Tag Archives: gender

Dude looks like a lady

The Fat Pastor at Hy-Vee

Okay, so maybe the title for this blog is hyperbolic, but when I went grocery shopping on Sunday evening with my nails painted hot pink, I felt a little odd.  And maybe it was just my imagination running away with me (another song allusion) but I felt like I had a few strange looks.  Its okay, I think I would have looked at me strangely too.  Picture this for a moment – a 6 foot 2 inch man with a big belly, a 56 inch chest and athletic-looking arms and legs wearing a pair of gym shorts, flip-flops, and a t-shirt, pushing a shopping cart with a 11-month old baby in it.  Then you see him reach for a bunch of bananas and you see it – hot pink fingernails, a few with purple glitter too.

I had to be a strange sight.  It was strange for me too.  Whenever I forgot that my fingernails were painted, I would see them out of the corner of my eye and have a double take – at my own hands!  It made me wonder, why?  What is so disconcerting about a man that – on the surface at least – is 100% masculine wearing fingernail polish (and what, I might add, does it mean to be 100% masculine?  Is that even a real thing?).

I mean seriously, was I somehow less manly because I was wearing fingernail polish?  Would someone see me wonder about my sexuality?  What if they connected my fingernails and the clergy sticker on my car?  Would they deem me unfit for the ordained ministry?  Nevermind the fact that my two most recent hobbies are playing football and boxing.  Did the color of my fingernails somehow change me?

To be honest, I don’t have the answers to all of these questions.  I’m not sure why I felt so out of place. Why does something as menial as finger nail polish seem to matter?  Why was I sure to remove it before I went into church on Monday?  It made me wonder about all sorts of gender issues.  What makes one thing feminine and another thing masculine?  Who defines these things?  It seems like some traits of gender are more about society than biology, but I think there are important evolutionary differences between our genders.  And why does crossing those gender lines make us so uncomfortable?  It made me think briefly of Jesus telling Martha to come and sit with him and the guys – breaking down important gender barriers. Like I said, the whole thing made my head spin a little, and I have more questions then answers.

The fact is, going out in public with my nails painted was probably one of the “manliest” things I’ve ever done.  My four-year-old daughter painted them.  When she approached me, the conversation went something like this:

“Daddy, I know that boys usually don’t where fingernail polish, but I think you should try new things.  You should try finger nail polish and see if you like it.”  She expertly used my own words against me.  I have told her dozens of times that it is good to try new things – whether it is food, games, or meeting new friends, I tell her all the time, “it is good to try new things.”  So how could I argue with her?

So I let her crawl up on my lap, and I helped her paint my nails.  Of course she picked out the loudest color possible.  She did a great job.  She was so careful and so proud of how great my nails looked afterward.  Later that day I was washing my hands, and she told me, “be careful Daddy, don’t wash the polish off.”  So I told her that I would probably take it off pretty soon.  She looked at me and said, “But I want you to wear it to church so everyone can see.”  I promised her that I would leave it on for the rest of the day.

That night when I was going to the grocery store, I was going to bring both girls.  I figured she would provide great coverage for me.  But then she decided to go with my wife, so it was just me, the baby, and my hot pink nails at the Hy-Vee.

Afterwards, I felt strange sense of pride.  I realized how silly it was to feel bad about how my nails looked.  It made my daughter happy, and she might always remember that lesson, “its good to try new things.”  I reinforced it to her in a very powerful way.  The next morning I told her, “Well, I tried it, but I don’t think I like it.”  She was a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to leave it on until next Sunday, but she respected that I at least gave it a try.  Plus there was a small consolation – I bumped into the head usher of our church at Hy-Vee, and he promised that he would “tell everybody.”


Filed under Personal Reflection

The Princess Paradox

After writing a blog about the Royal Wedding, which I called “materialistic pornography,” I decided I should clear a few things up.  I read a few debates on FB and understood the points of all those that were critical of my post.  I decided a long time ago to not engage in long-running online debates with people on this blog, so I am not going to address anything in particular (Although the assertion of one critic that the royals used “their own money” to pay for the wedding made me smile.  I’m not sure how we define what “their own money” is- and neither does the NY Times.) 

The point I was trying to make had nothing to do with the kind of people Will and Kate are.  It had nothing to do with their philanthropic efforts.  It really didn’t even have anything to do with the exact amount of money that was spent – or the source of that money.  My point was this: things like the Royal Wedding, and especially the way the American media portrays it, contribute to the princess mythology that girls are drenched in from birth.

I can spend the next few paragraphs explaining the princess mythology, but instead I’ll share with you a conversation I had last night with my four-year-old daughter. 

“Am I a princess, Daddy?”

I resisted the temptation to just say, “Yes, of course you are.”  Instead I asked her, “What does it mean to be a princess?”

“It means you have lots of pretty dresses.”  Okay – this was her first response to defining what a princess is.  By this definition my daughter is a princess.  She has a lot of pretty dresses.  And I love them all.  I love seeing her in them.  I love watching her twirl her skirts.  I love the joy and confidence she exudes when she wears them.  I love the look on her face when she opens up a gift and finds a pretty dress and she exclaims, “Thank you, I love it.”  I love that she would wear a pretty dress every day of her life if we let her because she knows in her heart that she is, in fact, a princess. 

I have to insert here that this conversation took place while my daughter was wearing one of her favorite pretty dresses.  It’s her “ballerina dress.”  It is pink and has a wide flowing skirt made of touling that twirls when she spins.  She had on a white sweater and a pink overcoat and had a big pink flower in her hair.  And I was wearing a sportcoat and a pink tie.  We were on a date, and were heading to the ballet to see – yes, I am aware of the hypocrisy in this – Cinderella.  And she loved every second of it. Afterwards she met the dancer that played Cinderella, and I now have a new favorite dancer.  I was moved to tears several times during the night while I watched my daughter’s face light up.

But here’s the problem – if the feminine ideal is to be a princess, and being a princess is defined by “having lots of pretty dresses,” where does it stop?  How many pretty dresses is enough to be considered a princess?  And does having lots of pretty dresses define happiness?  I can say with confidence that to my daughter, there is more.  She is kind and compassionate and appreciates what she has.  On our way to the theater we got a little turned around, and for a few tense moments I wasn’t exactly sure how to get there.  She sensed my stress and told me, “It’s okay Daddy, even if we don’t get to the theater, I still had a great time because I’m with you.”  So I feel good about my daughter, the princess.  But even so, here is more of that conversation:

“So, princesses have lots of pretty dresses.  What else?”  I waited, then asked, “Are princesses smart?”

“No, they are beautiful.” 

“Are princesses brave?”

“Yes – but well, sort of.”

“What do you mean, they are sort of brave?”

“Well, princesses wait for Prince Charming to come and rescue them from evil witches and monsters and stuff.”

And here is the princess paradox.  My daughter is a loving, compassionate, intelligent and articulate little girl.  She is smart and brave and beautiful.  She is a princess.  Not because she has a lot of pretty dresses – but because of who she is inside.  She is a princess because she should be honored and adored, and I pray someday she finds someone who loves her as much as I love her mother.  She is a princess, but I do not want her to ever think for even a second that she has to wait for Prince Charming to come and rescue her from monsters and stuff.

There are plenty of monsters in this world, and real monsters are a much bigger threat to my daughter then watching the Royal Wedding.  When those monsters rear their ugly heads, I pray my daughters will have the strength, courage, and confidence to defend themselves and rely on God, family and friends – not wait for Prince Charming.

Maybe the Royal Wedding is just a moment to escape.  Maybe it is just a chance to live in a fairy tale.  Maybe it is just a celebration of two young people who fell in love and want to help make the world a better place.  Maybe Kate is the kind of princess my daughter can aspire to be – I have no idea, and frankly I don’t care.  I have bigger dreams for my daughter than anything that was on TV this week.  I have bigger dreams for her than anything Disney can package and market.

I want my daughters to know how much they are loved.  I want my daughters to know that they are smart and brave and beautiful.  I want my daughters to be strong like my Aunt.  I want my daughters to have faith like my mother.  I want my daughters to be passionate like my sister.  I want my daughters to be kind like my grandmother. 

What turned me off about the Royal Wedding wasn’t so much the wedding itself, but its place in the greater princess myth.  It is a story that is told over and over by our culture.  Disney, celebrity news, tabloids, commercials, and our surrounding culture drown our girls into believing this myth.  The tell them why they are princesses, and most of it is a lie.  My daughters are princesses – not because of anything they own or buy or because of anything that is marketed to them.  They are princesses for this reason:

They are princesses because they are daughters of princesses.  They are princesses because they are daughters of the King of Kings.


Filed under Media