I found a locket at the brocante with a photo of two children sitting next to each other. The little boy has a ruffled collared shirt and cuffs, his vest and shorts are in velvet.
When Sacha was little I use to dress him like that, ruffles, velvet, in sweet antique baby things. Many people would say to me:
"Sacha is a boy you know?"
"Yes, I know."
"If you keep dressing him like a girl he is going to become a girl."
"Oh, I don't believe that he will be who he will be."
I wonder if the little boy, in the photograph, mother had to put up with that?
Lately, I have been wondering am I who I am because of nature or nurture?
Would I be different if I was nurtured differently?
Would the world be different if faith wasn't celebrated, encouraging us to love and forgive?
Are we loving, forgiving trying to do good because of nature or nurture?
Surely, both form us, but if nurture wasn't generally loving would we be?
What if the little girl sitting in a very big chair did not smile
because she was disappointed that she could not wear pants
as her brothers did in their photo.
"Only boys wear pants." She was told.
Sacha was about three years old when one day a group of mothers asked me if my child was a boy or a girl. I told them Sacha was a boy.
Sacha had curly locks, wild curly locks. They said, "For a boy, he sure has long curly hair?"
I replied that I loved his curly hair and didn't want to cut it. But that "he" was a boy with long curly hair.
They were not convinced so they asked, "Yes, but the child is wearing a ruffled shirt and a necklace?"
I smiled over my frustration and repeated that "He" was a boy wearing a ruffled shirt and a necklace, and that I found it sweet.
Still, the mothers persisted that my child was a girl they pointed to his red button down Mary Jane shoes, "Those are girl shoes."
I looked at Sacha's feet and sure enough he had on Chelsea's shoes, I shrugged and said, "He likes to wear his sister's shoes. I don't think that means anything about whether he is a boy or a girl."
Then they laughed out loud, and smirked, "Look at her fingernails! That isn't a boy it is a girl!"
Looking at Sacha's little chubby hand I noticed Chelsea had painted her brother's fingernails pink.
I gave in to their obsession, "You are right he is a girl."
They shook their heads knowingly and muttered amongst themselves, "She didn't understand us, she thought her child was a boy."
Notes:
King Louis wore pink, or at least ruffles…
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