The insistence on a gender binary places men and women into specific roles by reinforcing certain traits, and has continued a historical pattern of social categorization. The gender binary has reinforced a system of oppression by upholding the institution of the patriarchy and perpetuating sexism, which continuously places men above women. This ties in with socially constructed narratives about race (racism- a system of oppression placing white above all other races), and class (classism- a system of oppression that continuously benefits the already-rich). The insistence on a gender binary holds women back; it teaches them that they should remain in the home, bearing children, and serving men. It also holds men back; the gender binary has taught them that the only legitimate form of masculinity is hegemonic. 

Just as it is important to disrupt racism and classism, it is important to disrupt sexism. Such a binary does not allow for considering different forms of gender expression, such as those who identify as transgender. Yet Martino, citing Connel, (2009), argues that seeking to include and equalize these expressions allows us to move away from the, “legitimation and valorization of hegemonic masculinity,” (Martino, 2012). It is important to undo this gender binary and allow for all forms of gender expression to be viewed as valid and equal because hegemonic masculinity is oppressive to humankind, not just women or LGBQT+. ‘Undoing gender’ and validating different forms of gender expression would mean that humankind can flourish; for example, we could see equal leadership in politics, female autonomy over women’s bodies, and reduced violence towards women and alternate forms of gender expression. 

As a future educator, undoing gender for me begins in the classroom, as Martino suggests, “in terms of thinking about how specific texts might be used to interrupt hegemonic masculinity,” (2012). Even if a student does not accept the ideas in what I present, “…there are clear pedagogical benefits to making available counter narratives and critical framework,” (2012). 

Cited:
Martino W. (2012) ‘Undoing’ Gender and Disrupting Hegemonic Masculinity: Embracing a Transgender Social Imaginary. In: Down B., Smyth J. (eds) Critical Voices in Teacher Education. Explorations of Educational Purpose, vol 22. Springer, Dordrecht

i) Normative Narratives

The gender binary is perpetuated and reinforced throughout our lives, both intentionally and unintentionally, through media, advertising, and everyday interactions; men are typically presented as strong, assertive, intelligent, and rough, while females are encouraged to be beautiful, quiet, submissive, and so forth, (Sensoy and DiAngelo, 2017, pg 106). We place value on certain traits for different genders, which continuously place men above women and reinforce the patriarchy, and we enforce these ideas throughout childhood and adulthood, (2017, pg 103). In my own story, certain gender stereotypes were reinforced to me as a child, even if I may not have noticed at the time. I was encouraged by my babysitter to choose a quiet, clean task with the other girls, instead of going outside to play catch with the boys; I became angry when I was told what I should do, as a girl, and she felt angry that I didn’t comply. Reece’s story also comes from childhood; he was fearful of getting in trouble from his father because he was playing dress-up with his sisters, something that, stereotypically, only girls should do. He rushed to take off the girl-clothes and makeup, and portrayed feelings of shame for straying from his gender role. Sarah’s story is similar to ours, though from her young adulthood; in a job typically only men hold, she was repeatedly harassed by male customers who assumed she couldn’t know what she was talking about due to her gender, and that she shouldn’t be working in a male-dominated trade. She felt frustrated when a male colleague was unchallenged by those customers when explaining the very same thing that she did. In all of our stories, we were met with negativity and resistance after straying from what is considered normal for our genders. 

I related to Sarah and Reece’s stories because we were challenged by others for attempting to do something outside the norm for our genders. In different ways, our experiences all perpetuated the idea that only girls can be quiet or submissive, clean, and pretty, and engage in soft activities, while only boys can be loud or dominant, dirty, unattractive (unenhanced with makeup), and engage in hands-on activities. In mine and Sarah’s stories, we were met with anger from others for straying from our typical roles; society has deemed that girls must be, “passive, pleasing, and above all else attractive to boys,” (2017, pg 106). We both felt angry and frustrated when others were trying to hold us back due to our gender. Yet in Reece’s story, he was so afraid by the imagined reaction of his father that he wouldn’t even allow his father to see him stray from a masculine role by engaging in a feminine activity. 

All of our stories portray ways in which the gender binary is continually reinforced through interactions from others throughout our lives. Enforcing or encouraging these gender norms that place men above women helps shape our identities as we grow; learning our gendered roles tells us what we can and can’t do. Creating and encouraging specific gendered identities also demonstrates what is deemed valuable to society; currently, males are deemed rational, intelligent, and strong, and tend to hold higher paying jobs and positions of influence or leadership. Reinforcing the idea that these ‘masculine’ traits are only valuable in men further acts to uphold the institution of the patriarchy. Consequently, females are deemed irrational, intelligent, and weak. They tend to hold lower paying jobs, and account for two and a half times the amount of unpaid work in households as men do, (UN Women). Ultimately, only one in five world leaders are women (UN Women, 2019). Though our stories are seemingly small examples, interactions such as ours all contribute to furthering these societal inequities by shaping our identities. 

ii) Creating Counter-Stories: Disrupting Normative Narratives

Erin’s story is similar to the rest of ours; she goes against her gender stereotype in performing a sport that is typically for males: hunting. However, her story differs from ours in the important way that she was not met with resistance from others for doing something masculine, but with encouragement. Though she does encounter a stranger who is confused as to why she is going against a gender stereotype, there is no anger and no pressure on her to change. Her story is an example of how her interactions have helped her to disrupt the gender binary. The above stories silence the fact that we all may encounter interactions which encourage us to go against gender norms, but they focused on instances which did not. Although in the above stories, we felt the truth was that the binary is reinforced, Erin’s truth differs from ours. 

All stories are true to their writer’s perspective, which is shaped from differing and overlapping identities. This helps me look at my own story differently; though I focused on an interaction in which I was put down for going against my gender norms, I could have focused on how my mom didn’t have a problem with me playing catch, and after picking me up from daycare, encouraged me to play catch if I wanted. When asked to discuss a time I felt gendered, I realize now that I didn’t choose to tell a story about being encouraged to defeat gender norms, because at such a young age, I didn’t understand how deeply ingrained in our society gender roles are. If I had been aware, perhaps I would have picked out more childhood memories as being “gendered”, such as building rockets with my step-dad and being encouraged to pursue an interest in science from a young age.

Considering my own story from a different perspective can help me work in the future to disrupt gender norms. Sensoy and DiAngelo state, “…our ideas, views, and opinions are the product of interlocking and ongoing social messages. These messages are central to how oppression is normalized.” (2017, p 103). As an educator, I will contribute to the formation of identities in my students. It will be important to consider how I allow gender expression to unfold in the classroom through my interactions with students, the language I use, and the encouragement I give to those who display traits or actions outside of their gender norm. As Martino writes, “[j]ust the idea of making available other points of view which challenge dominant thought about the heteronormative constraints of gender expression and masculinity is a start,” (2012). 

Cited:

Martino W. (2012) ‘Undoing’ Gender and Disrupting Hegemonic Masculinity: Embracing a Transgender Social Imaginary. In: Down B., Smyth J. (eds) Critical Voices in Teacher Education. Explorations of Educational Purpose, vol 22. Springer, Dordrecht

Sensoy, Ö, & DiAngelo, R.J. (2017). Is everyone really equal?: An Introduction to Key Concepts in Social Justice Education. New York, NY: Teachers College Press

UN Women. March 12, 2019. Press release: One in five ministers is a woman, according to new IPU/UN Women Map. Accessed March 23, 2020.  https://www.unwomen.org/en/news/stories/2019/3/press-release–ipu-un-women-map-women-in-politics

UN Women. Redistribute unpaid work. Accessed March 23, 2020. https://www.unwomen.org/en/news/in-focus/csw61/redistribute-unpaid-work

The dry leaves crunched underneath my shoes on the dying grass as I side-stepped left to catch the soft, yellow football. I just missed it! I sighed, my breath visible in the chilly fall air, and picked it up to toss it back to Cam. He threw it to someone else, and we tossed it around the circle in the front yard for a bit. As the last of the kids made their way back to the daycare house from school, we went inside for snack.

We crowded around the dining table with our pretzels and orange slices as Gail handed out the drinks. She asked what we wanted to do today; it was a full day, so the kids would have to split up their activities. Some of the boys and I wanted to go back outside to play with the ball, and maybe even go a couple streets over to see if the kids at a different house wanted to join us. The girls all wanted to do an art project- colouring, gluing construction paper, or something from the craft book.

“Kristin, are you sure you don’t want to stay inside with the other girls? Look at Kate, she wants to do an animal craft,” Gail tried to persuade me to stay inside. Kate sat there quietly, as always, a perfect example of a responsible young lady. She was one of my best friends at daycare, but I didn’t always want to stay inside, and she never wanted to come outside. I glanced at the craft book: it was some sort of construction paper and pipe-cleaner bunny.
“I don’t really feel like doing a craft right now, I want to play catch with the boys! I like hanging out with the boys more than the girls sometimes,” I said confidently.
“It’s okay if she plays with us,” said Cam’s little brother.
Gail rolled her eyes and scoffed, as if I was insulting her by not staying with the other girls. “I guess you can do what you want to.” At that, I raced to dump my snack bowl in the sink and put on my shoes.

When my mom came to pick me up later, I got in trouble for being “snarky” to Gail… whatever that meant.

As soon as my mom squeezed the van into an angled parking stall and stopped the car, I practically jumped out and into the store. She hollered at me to slow down as she plugged the meter and unbuckled my sister from her carseat. My grandma and my other sister followed behind. I looked up at the weird, horseshoe-shaped logo on the storefront in red and white. Finally, I was getting something from Lululemon! Since I had first heard about it over a year ago, every girl in school seemed to have made the drive to Saskatoon to get a sweater from here, but I didn’t even have a headband yet. 

I didn’t know where to start; there were tank tops and sports bras on one side, and shorts and yoga pants on the other. There were gym bags, water bottles, yoga mats, and headbands near the checkout. I knew what I needed, though: the classic, zip-up hoodie that every girl had. My eyes were drawn immediately to a bright, coral blue one with big, darker blue polka dots all over it, the Lululemon logo stitched over the entire front side. I tried it on right over my t-shirt; it was tight and stiff, and barely came down to my waist. I did up the zipper all the way over my chin, and then back down again. It didn’t exactly feel comfortable, but I knew I had to have it!

I turned to my mom to show her. My little sister squealed with delight and tugged at the bottom of it, so I put it around her shoulders. “See, Mom? Even Carly likes it! Please can I have it, please?!”

Grandma said, “Wow! So bright! That will sure get some looks. Are you sure you don’t want a black one? A neutral colour goes with everything.”

“No way,” I said, “nobody has one that looks like this!”

Mom sighed. “Alright, it’s your decision. But this is the only one you’ll be getting for a long time. We won’t be back in Saskatoon for a while, and I’m not spending this much on a sweater again, so think about it carefully.” Then she whispered to me, “And remember to thank Gramma for the advance birthday money so that you could get one, okay?”

I drummed my fingers on the edge of the long table, slouching in the hard chair. On my left and right at the long, front-row table were three friends, who seemed to have an easier time sitting up and paying attention to social studies than I did. I snapped my attention back to the teacher; he was talking about Black History Month. I glanced at the clock by the door, hoping we were almost done class. I did some stretching in my chair, turning left, turning right, turning around. I kept fidgeting and turning around, looking at my other classmates to see if they were bored too. We had one girl with dark skin in our class, Sarah, and she was seated in the back row. I wondered if she already knew everything the teacher was talking about. 

My thoughts are brought back to the present. I’m seated in the principal’s office, door closed, next to my friend, Melissa, the morning after that class. We’re discussing the incident that happened after school yesterday: right outside the school doors designated for our grade, I passed four kids from the older grade in my class. They all stared at me as I walked towards the edge of the playground, until one of the older boys ran at me with his arms out wide, and plucked my toque right off my head. It was a joke to them, but I felt panicked and humiliated. I responded by trying to stand my ground and making a big swing to grab it back. The kids gave it back after a minute or two, laughing, before I ran home. I didn’t tell anyone, but somebody must have because the principal had called me into the office today to talk about it; he called Melissa as well, even though she wasn’t there, so I didn’t feel so nervous. 

The principal says, “it sounds like the kids who took your toque felt like you were staring at Sarah during your class yesterday because you were talking about Black History Month. She’s their friend, and they felt like you were judging her.”
I feel so scared of getting in trouble. “I didn’t mean to stare at her… I look around at everyone.” I think harder about the class, and about what the other kids could have thought about me. I was turning around a lot, and she was in the back row. She is the first girl I have met with dark skin. She has long hair in tight, tiny braids. She’s popular, always smiling at some private joke with her friends. I don’t know her well because she’s in older grade and this is my first class with her. I was looking at her in the class. I don’t think I was judging her, I have no problem with her being darker than me, but I feel ashamed that the other kids feel that way. 
“I think trying to get your toque back was a reasonable reaction when a bigger kid comes at you, but next time try to get a teacher. And maybe just keep your eyes forward in class from now on.”

As I barreled past the gigantic evergreen and around the corner, I turned back to see how far everyone was behind me. We were racing back home after playing at the park; Kim had given up and stopped running a block back, while my cousins caught up and passed me. Laughing, I slowed to a walk and shouted at Kim to catch up. I paused to look at the flowers when I reached the blue house. There were so many flowers I only recognized from Nagymama and Nagypapa’s garden, many that they had brought from Hungary. The colourful array spilled over the left back corner of the front yard over to the front door, and more flowers were packed into two long, raised garden boxes on the edge bordering the neighbours’ yard. The lawn was lush and manicured, the whole yard in meticulous condition. I watched two lazy bumblebees drift between blossoms as Kim finally caught up to me.
We hurried into the backyard, our cheeks flushed from running. Dad shouted at us to close the gate behind us; he was standing by the little apple tree in the middle of the yard with my uncles, close to Nagypapa, who was throwing more logs into the big, old, wood-fire barbeque. Behind them, Nicole carried baby Renata through the sprawling vegetable garden, carefully stepping on the long one-by-four planks to avoid disturbing the plants. The veggie garden took up the back third of the backyard, with rows of tomatoes, peas, carrots, potatoes, turnips, cucumbers, and more. Crushed white egg shells, chunks of banana peels, and other compost were sprinkled all around the plants as fertilizer. Packed into the far left and right sides of the yard were more shrubs and colourful flowers I couldn’t name, and still more flowers climbed up trellises against the back wall of the house.
Auntie Leslie stepped left out the back door, Tyke close to her heels, carrying the big yellow bowl full of macaroni salad and setting it on “the buffet table” next to the buns, cheese, fruits and veggies, and uborkasalata. I squished in with my sister and cousins at the picnic table to the right of the door, taking respite in the shade cast from the umbrella at the table next to us where the older cousins sat. Travis was finishing up some hus leves and told us there was some warmed up inside if we wanted any before the burgers. Before we could go get any, Nagymama and the other aunties came out from inside with the last of the table settings.
Nagymama yelled over to Nagypapa in Hungarian, and he walked to the edge of the concrete patio. He smiled, raising his arms and turning from those in the yard to us at the tables to get our attention, and said, “Okay, everybody, okay. Thank you for coming for my birthday. Okay, thank you, everybody. Okay… Let’s eat!”