A thousand years ago when I was young, I became aware of a certain injustice in the world: when my family and I were at the humble summer farmhouse in Maine, or visiting one of the nearby lakes (ponds, really) for a swim, my brother was allowed run around without a shirt, but I was not.
I did not ask why; I knew it had something to do with gender. I was annoyed, though, because I remembered that when I was very small, I was in fact allowed occasionally to go shirtless. At some point, I had mysteriously crossed an invisible line. There was no physical change that have triggered the rule; puberty did not arrive until much later. Perhaps it was age. I didn't know.
I was miffed. Yet I obeyed unquestioningly, because it was One Of Those Things.
All the same, I felt it was one of the many stupid and meaningless categorizations that existed, along with things like: boys can pretend to shave like Daddy but girls cannot; boys can mow the lawn but girls cannot. Boys could be louder than girls. Boys could climb trees, but girls who did so were criticized (whether by adults or, much more often, by peers). It was all dumb. Why did any of it matter?
My liberal parents were quite good at reinforcing the notion that career-wise, girls could do anything boys could do. They espoused Girl Power and other female empowerment concepts. This, while excellent, made the prohibition against shirtlessness seem somehow even more ridiculous to me.
Eventually, puberty and modesty blossomed, and I made sure I was conventionally covered. Nevertheless, I will always remember that ancient feeling of unfairness. It was my first introduction to gender difference -- and, in retrospect, to the need to ask questions.
Before the line was crossed. So long ago.
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