I have two kids, both girls. I am uncertain about the use of these hashtags I see online celebrating being a father to girls, like it is an unusual or unexpected gift.
They are just my kids. Thereafter, we start to place a lens on their life. What stories are they being told; what expectations about the right and wrong way to live their lives? We want to ensure they have flexibility in how they sculpt their own experience of the world.
It seems, so far, that they are way ahead of us anyway. They showcase a righteous sense of freedom and choice. Love it.
However, I did have an unexpected experience of girls this week, quite delightful. It was remarkable in its female-ness. I dropped Zoe off at her first footie practice of the year, and there were teams finished and starting, a melee of 50-60 girls greeting each other and saying goodbye, all in their kits.
The story told to my generation was different. Sport was for boys. In all my days I am not sure I have ever been surrounded by so many female athletes.
The new season of professional football has begun in England and I am avidly following along. Now, all the Women’s League games are also covered in the newspapers and broadcasters. I can see how Arsenal Men’s and Arsenal’s Women’s teams are doing (very well, thank you very much.)
It shouldn’t matter, and one day it won’t, that this is noteworthy. Today, for me, it was.
This Much We Know.