My kids say these things to me, sometimes, and I know they are joking. He said this to me, in fact, just the other day. You’re such a girl, Mom, he said, and he smiled when he said it, and I smiled back. He wasn’t being mean or dismissive, mind. He was joking at my tears over some silly thing, and he was being sweet when he said it, but something sat uncomfortable in me as I digested his words.
Sometimes, when you are a minority, you feel a pressure to conform. Or maybe a pressure to subdue the difference of yourself. Or maybe there isn’t really any pressure? Maybe it’s a natural thing that happens? Or maybe it’s just me.
I live in a house full of men, and I thank the Lord every day for each one of them. I am blessed to my eyebrows, and I try very hard not to forget that. I’m wondering just the tiniest of wonderings, though, about whether I’ve allowed myself to get a little lost in the rough and tumble of it.
I don’t have a girly (whatever that is?) decorating style or a girly wardrobe or a girly personality, for that matter. I’m pretty plain Jane about that stuff, but truth is, I have a girly heart, and I’m trying to accept that and honour that and understand better what that means.
I won’t be painting anything pink or putting bows on the toilet seats. I don’t feel a need to make big changes or big statements or to get into any big arguments.
The next time I’m accused of being a girl, though, I think I’ll tell them how lucky they are to have one around.