As children, we are often friends with everyone. We have not yet learned caution, and our zest for life is newfound. So newfound, in fact, that we have next to no concept of difference, of binaries, of all the things that rule the adult world which we find so dreadfully boring and foreign. All we know is an insatiable desire to play, to imagine, to make believe. Communion comes readily.
When otherness is introduced to us, that ardor is dampened. Let us not forget that before we were boys and girls, we were children. Cooties do not exist when you cannot spell your own name, and so we were a collective, united by our shared ignorance of all that is horrible. We communed with unfettered adoration and imagined with great and beautiful zeal. However, this utopia devoid of distinction could never last forever. We were promptly escorted into our decided genders, and so the line between our desires and the demands of society blurred into intelligibility.
To be a child is to live entirely at the mercy of those around us. It is to be a damp block of clay on the spinning wheel of life. When we are young, there is little concept of free will — ideally, our guardians dress us, feed us and take us to the places we need to go. We do not have much of a say in these matters, and, for a moment, we do not need to. It is during this time that we are the most vulnerable to the notions of adults who hope to mold us into “functioning members of society.”
We are being told not just what to buy, but how to be.
As we begin to mature, adults impose upon us their impressions of boyhood and girlhood, these abstract realms through which one must traverse in order to grow up. They wait for us with open and eager arms, ready to deliver us to bigger versions of ourselves.
And that is where the problem lies. There is an assumption, sometimes voiced and other times implied, that gender as we know it is wholly natural. That the categories that we fall into are solely dictated by some intrinsic inclination. Yet, deep down, we must know this to be inaccurate. Do not misunderstand me; I do not deny the existence of biological sex. What I instead wish to dispute is this avowal that gender, the constructed notions that influence our conceptions of the masculine and feminine, is inherent.
How can we believe this when gender typing often penetrates the womb long before we are born? The sex of a fetus can be discerned via ultrasound as early as 18 weeks into the pregnancy, and should the parents choose to be informed, they often act accordingly. When they configure a baby shower registry, decide what color to paint the bedroom, or better yet, slice into a cake whose color will announce one’s sex to the world, they are actively imposing a set of expectations upon their unborn child.
Before they have the chance to become their own person, they are already being taught that the creation and construction of another is a more worthy pursuit.
This is not an inherently evil thing, but it would be foolish to assert that it has no effect on the development of a child’s interests, preferences and behavior. It would also be unjust to place the sum of this blame on the parents who are simply trying their best to give their baby a fighting chance in a formidable world.
Parents play a big role in this, yes, but nobody can exist in the vacuum of their guardians’ love for long. Long before we venture beyond our doorsteps, the outside world sneaks in to forge us in its vision. Through the inescapable advertisements that line every street and adorn every store, we are being told not just what to buy, but how to be. And the imagination that I spoke of earlier, that hallmark of childhood, is funneled into gender-specific domains that curate our interests and shape our perspectives.
We are told what and who to play with, what to wear and how to wear it. Our toys, the vehicles of our blossoming imaginations, are partitioned into pink and blue bins, and we are ushered into our respective flocks. When boys play with dolls — forgive me — action figures, they are shown a vision of what they ought to become: strong, bold, brute. They are presented with the image of perfected masculinity, and so they aspire to that celebrity.
Girls, on the other hand, are often showered with contraptions of motherhood. Baby dolls with parted plastic lips and bottles to match are bestowed upon them. And with these rubber counterfeits of infancy bouncing on their hips, girls learn that the best thing they can become is a mother. Before they have the chance to become their own person, they are already being taught that the creation and construction of another is a more worthy pursuit.
When examining this, it becomes clear that ideals of masculinity and femininity are antithetical, and with boys and girls striving towards such conflicting models, their potential for meaningful connection is considerably stunted. As gendered implications infect and fashion our modes of interaction, it becomes unacceptable and near impossible to cross these boundaries.
Young men are rewarded for physical prowess; after all, we need some strong boys to help carry these heavy classroom chairs. To perform boyishness successfully is to be rough-and-tumble, and so they are taught that the best way to socialize with each other is through physical play. While boys connect through displays of brawn, girls are more often encouraged towards emotional communion. They are praised for sensitivity and empathy — they converge at the swings to braid one another’s hair and share secrets.
These stereotypes are not absolute, but they are unmistakable. As boys’ and girls’ endorsed methods of engagement diverge, they come to the conclusion that they are mutually incompatible. However, there is a caveat to this, and an obvious one at that. While this discord makes friendship difficult, it lends itself to romance. Men and women are not taught how to be friends, but they are certainly taught how to become lovers.
When we are young, we are encouraged to stay away from each other, lest we consort with the enemy. In our formative years, cooties are a serious concern, and this contagion, while imagined, infects our blood, our brains, our hearts. Even after we have come to our senses, it stays with us. It is too late — we have already become mysteries to each other, and there is no returning to the purity of infancy that once united us. We have to grow up, yes, but we do not have to lose each other in the process.
Before we have reached double digits, our every exchange with the other sex is interpreted as interest, and not the friendly kind. Considering that children have neither the maturity nor the faculties to engage in romance, it is obviously harmful to thrust our adult notions of love upon them. They ought to be concerned more with self-discovery — with learning how to identify with their peers in meaningful and stimulating ways. Yet, how can they, when adults consistently interrogate them on conjectures of crushes?
If we are to combat this, we must free children from accusations of attraction.
When children’s innocent interactions are examined with such scrutiny, it teaches them that platonic intimacy between boys and girls is improbable. If a young girl is questioned every time she mentions a friend who happens to be a boy, she will soon come to believe that their friendship must mean something more. If two children hugging is interpreted as a declaration of some blossoming love, how can girls and boys possibly learn to express care for one another outside the bounds of romance?
Intimacy is fundamental to earnest connection. It is vulnerability, honesty and consideration, and to acquiesce to the notion that it can only exist between women and men in the context of romantic and sexual relationships is to do ourselves a great disservice. When boys and girls are not encouraged or even taught how to be friends with one another, a sense of bewilderment builds, and the gap between them expands. If we are to combat this, we must free children from accusations of attraction.
This incessant insinuation of lust carves a chasm between the two genders that does not simply fade with time. Surveillance chases us into adulthood, and as women and men engage in committed romantic relationships with one another, cross-gender friendships are regarded with a similar suspicion. If we already have a romantic partner, what else could one possibly need from the other gender?
A world in which heterosexual men and women can only exist to one another as potential sexual partners is a bleak one indeed. Romantic partnerships are often fleeting and their ends poignant. As college students living in New York City, we are no strangers to the dismal dating scene. But even in the darkest of times, platonic love will always be there to rescue us from the depths of our despair and nurse us back to health. Most loves do not last forever, but many friendships can. Do not halve your options for companionship in the name of “getting some.”
