What made you first realize that boys and girls weren’t really playing the same game?

I chose “boys and girls” for the title because I’d imagine most of us had this realization fairly young.

My own example was noticing that while both my parents worked full time, my mom cooked, cleaned, baths, bed, dishes, play dates, laundry, school clothes laid out, hair in the morning, set out my paints, everything. My dad would get home from work, eat his dinner, leave his plate where it was, and disappear downstairs to his “man cave,” then bark at me to bring him a beer from the fridge while I was washing the dish he’d just left on the table, god forbid he miss a single pitch from this regular season baseball game. It didn’t make sense to me. Like- mom goes to work, and does all this, dad goes to work, comes home, and does what exactly?

Then, what really got me, was while I was having all of these epiphanies, she had to ask which credit card she could use to buy us our school clothes. I remember having a literal meltdown, my mom remembers it too. I was freaking out about why did SHE have to ask HIM for shit?? Never got a real clear answer on that. I’ll add for the sake of fairness, my dad was the money guy. My mom wanted nothing to do with budgeting. My frustration there was unwarranted. But, it really just felt like my mom was doing all of the work, and my dad just told her what to do. That was what 7 year old me derived, and, I honestly wasn’t too far off.

For what it’s worth, my parents were pretty progressive for the mid-nineties. My dad was considered to be a very involved father, and I know he loved all his girls very much. (Hadn’t had my brother yet lol) he taught me how to ride a bike, catch and throw a ball, was very involved with teaching me how to read. Tons of ancient home videos of him absolutely gushing over me, his very first child, his little girl, and me just rolling my eyes, doing whatever mundane thing it was he busted out that camcorder for. My dad was my superhero. Could do no wrong in my eyes.

I say all of this to say, this feeling never came from a place of misandry, it started from my (albeit, initially very skewed and under-informed) conclusion that whatever this dynamic was that I was learning, was incredibly unfair. It was just a big explosion of realization:

The boys could be loud, and messy, and tell jokes, but if I tried any of that, I’d be scolded. Sit with your legs crossed. Yeah, you can throw a football, but you’re a girl. Girls don’t get to grow up and play sports. Clear your father’s place from the table, bring him a beer, and thank him for dinner. Don’t actually bother him, he’s watching The Game! Sit down, shut up, legs crossed.