“A boy and a girl run around on the grass at the park. The boy tackles the girl. The girl laughs. She gets up and runs away. She loves to run. He chases, she turns and they grab each other, tumble and land in a pile, giggling. After a few minutes, he tackles her again and she lands a bit hard. She is bigger and physical, but he more than holds his own in roughhousing. She pauses for a second. Then she laughs again; she’s still having fun.
Dad gets his attention, and says, “If she’s not having fun, you have to stop.”
He is two. He needs to hear this now, and so does she. And again, and again, and again, so that like wearing a helmet on the bike it is ingrained.”—
When I was ten years old, a dog bit the back of my head. The doctor said, within earshot but out of sight — he didn’t think I could hear him — that had the dog’s teeth been a little longer, they could have gone in under my skull. Hit my brain stem. Killed me, crippled me.
Girls are told to be skinny but not too skinny and to wear makeup but not so much that guys can tell and to dress in revealing clothes but not too revealing or else you’re a slut and a hundred other contradictory standards so I think guys can deal with being made fun of for wearing fedoras