Nails, Part 3

Every morning, the first graders all swarm around me in the morning holding out their fists. I’m not sure how I became the ringleader of these massive games of Rock, Paper,Scissors, but once the proverbial genie had been released it wasn’t going back in the bottle because it was having too much fun playing with the grown up before school began.

On this particular morning one of the fingernails of the hands playing was painted bright orange. In the midst of the action, one brash girl stopped so she could tell the boy who was attached to the orange fingers that it was “against the rules” for a boy to wear nail polish.  She punctuated her proclamation with an authoritative, “My mom said so.”  Another boy chirped that his mom also said that boys were not allowed to paint their nails—only girls.

The orange-nailed boy quietly slunk away.

As the father of a boy, who on occasion likes to paint his nails, I have some strong opinions on the subject.  I told the objectionable kids that everybody has different rules and just because their moms told them one thing doesn’t mean it applies to everyone.  It took a lot not to use phrases like “narrow minded” or worse when talking to those kids about their mothers.

The kids scattered to line up when the bell ran. I hugged the Bean, who had witnessed the whole thing, and reminded him that no matter what anyone else says it’s okay for anyone to paint their nails if they want to. I then scanned the area for the orange-nailed boy. I spotted him at the front of the line and worked my way around some errant kids to get to him. I tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned around I looked him in the eye and said, “Just so you know, I think your nails are awesome.”

He smiled as he went off to class.

Nails, Part 2

The Bean came home from school and drew a picture of a face with a big red frown. When asked about it he said that he was sad. The reason was painfully clear. The Bean had been teased at school about his polished nails.

Last fall Sprout expressed a desire to paint her nails, which prompted the Bean to want to paint his as well. Normally it was Sprout who copied every mover her big brother made, but this time little Sprout found herself the leader. Soon my kids were decked out with vibrant matching nails. The Bean really liked the look and his fingers have been periodically adorned with paint ever since.

WonderWife™ and I have always supported the Bean's decision to wear nail polish. We strive to be the kind of parents that let our kids, even if that means letting out of the house in mismatched shoes, covering their torsos in temporary tattoos or painting their nails bright pink. In fact, there have been times when I've found myself having to defend his choice.

And while the Bean has become sensitive about showing certain sides of himself in public, for instance he doesn't like to let others see him cry, he has remained blissfully carefree about his finger nails. In the few times he's come under scrutiny, the Bean has handled himself with integrity. He hasn't cared about social conventions or gender roles. I've been immensely proud of him for this.

The Bean's world became a different place upon entering kindergarten. School used to be a safe, nurturing environment where his days were spent playing. Now school has become more serious as the emphasis is on learning and homework. Kindergartners suddenly seem older and savvier about the world in unexpected ways.

It was the Bean's second week in kindergarten and he seemed to be doing well. He had made a few friends and there was even a girl whom he had taken a special liking to. But I was secretly worried the morning I walked him to school, his sparkly nail covered hand clasped in mine. It would've been impossible for his classmates not to notice. It would have been improbable for someone not to say something.

Sure enough, as the Bean tells it he had been teased by "everybody". He did stand up for himself bit that wasn't enough and he went to his teacher. By the end of the day, he was feeling pretty awful. He came home and drew the picture, which resulted in a good dose of nurturing from his mom. This made him feel better.

My heart broke as WonderWife™ told me this story. As I began to contemplate what to do next, she told me she asked the Bean what he wanted to do about his nail polish. After thinking it over for a minute, he decided that he wanted to keep it on. Once again, he has made me very proud.

I am glad that in this case the opinions of others hasn't deterred my son from being who he is, but I know the road of independence will not get easier as he gets older. All I can do is stand by him and encourage him whether his finger nails are blue or he wears rain boots on a sunny summer day and hope that he will have a thick enough skin to endure those that will not.

Painting Toes Pink

The Daily Show tipped me off to a story that’s been bubbling up across the media this week. Clothing store J Crew recently featured an ad that showed a mother and son where the son’s toenails were painted pink. Apparently the idea of a nail polish on a boy was cause for concern, but it was the color of the toes in question that seemed to send people into a tizzy.

Psychologists and other “experts” came out of the woodwork and spoke with places like Fox News (natch) about a world that is “abandoning the trappings of gender identity.” A spokeswoman for some traditional values organization fears that the ad “features blatant propaganda celebrating transgendered children.”

As the father of a boy who on occasion likes to paint his toes and fingers pink, I’d like to say one thing to these people:

FUCK YOU!

Just because your narrow ideas of gender identity are old fashioned doesn’t mean you have the right to suggest that my kid is anything but a perfectly happy, well-adjusted little boy. How dare you take a young mind that is open and without prejudice and try to teach him that a color is off limits because somebody along the line decided that it was “for girls” or that he can’t express himself by putting that color on his nails. Fuck you for implying that my son will have identity issues and fuck you for insinuating that I’m a bad parent because of it.

I thought we were beyond this. I grew up in the age of Free to Be You and Me and was taught that boys and girls shouldn’t be defined solely by their gender. It was okay for William to have a doll if that’s what he wanted just like it was okay for me to play kitchen with my sister. And because of the time I spent play cooking, I became a tornado in the kitchen who makes a mean red sauce. There’s nothing girly about marinara.

A color is a color, not a gender. Pink is red and white mixed together, not a lifestyle. A little nail polish isn’t going to change the way somebody is wired. Yes boys and girls are different, but it’s not because of colors or princesses or sports.

I’d like to invite these small minded so called specialists to spend some quality time with my son who does many “boy” things, like run around like a maniac and pretend to shoot guns and play superheroes and video games…all while wearing bright pink nail polish.

You simple minded, scared, homophobic assholes can raise your kids however you want. But you shut your damn mouths when you talk about mine.

Nails

The nails on one hand were pink.  The nails on the other were blue.  The Bean proudly showed them off as soon as they were dry.

That night he told me, "Michael said that nail polish is for girls."

"What did you say back?"

"No it isn't.  And I like it."

"I'm very proud of you for saying that."