27 October 2011 @ 01:45 am
So I never realized until about two years ago how lucky I am.

I've always been inclined toward "girl" things. My favorite color has been pink for as long as I can remember. I love stuffed animals. I wanted to be a ballerina once upon a time. I played dress up, wearing princess outfits and ballerina tutus.

I also had a younger brother, and we were really super close growing up. Because of this, we shared a lot of interests. We took karate together, we swapped action figures. I remember one day when I was about eleven or twelve that we spent literally climbing through a giant mud pile behind our house for fun.

And my mom and dad were always cool with that.

They supported me when I wanted to take ballet. They supported me when I wanted to take karate. They bought me stuffed animals and cars. As long as I wanted to, my mom would doll me up in frilly dresses and with fancy hair. But if I didn't, then she would go let me wade through a mud pile. I've had more skinned knees than I can count. And I totally kicked ass in my karate class.

No matter what I've wanted to do, I've had my parents' support. They never cared when I wanted to play with action figures instead of dolls. They never told me I was being stupid or predictable for wanting a fluffy pink room. If it was within their means, I wanted it, then I got it. Not just the girl things. Not just the boy things. All the things. A costume chest full of sparkly dresses, but also containing a Batman cape. A room full of stuffed animals and My Little Pony, but also with action figures and cars and K'nex and Legos.

And the thought of it honestly makes me cry because I thought all parents were like this. And over the last few years, I've realized they aren't. They tell their kids they can't do this or that. Because you're a girl. Because you're a boy. Because that isn't constructive. Because you won't learn from it. Because it's pointless. But my parents always let me explore my interests and desires no matter what direction that took me. Even when it meant I spent a year studying serial killers. Even when it meant I practiced my screechy violin for two hours a day and had to have no sound in the house during that time.

And I saw a post on tumblr earlier today that reminded me that not all parents are like that. That some parents won't let their kids do and feel and explore. But my parents did and I am so fucking lucky for that.

I don't really know what the point of this post is, but it's just my feelings. And I wanted to share.
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Current Mood: nostalgic
 
 
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