Working with kids is so much
fun, especially when they ask
you what your gender is forty million times each day.
not amused
So this summer I had a lovely job working as a
camp counselor at a sports day camp for kids ages five through thirteen. I was
planning on presenting as male at work but that didn’t pan out. It was my fault
really; I was just going to go into work, introduce myself as a male and let
that be that. I figured the kids wouldn’t notice, and if my coworkers did I
would just explain to them what was going on.
Yeah…
Unfortunately I did not think this through
nearly enough. #thankscaptainobvious
So anyways, it dawned on me a couple weeks
before camp started that I should probably let my boss know what was going on,
and ask him if it would be ok for me to present as male at camp. SOOO I called
him up on the phone, told him what was going on, and then listened nervously
for his reply. After a long awkward silence, he told me that he was going to
call be back next week. When we talked again he told me that he would need to
use me as a female counselor because each group of kids would be instructed by
a boy and a girl, and so he had purposefully hired a certain number of
counselors of each gender. He asked me if that would be ok, and if I would
still be able to work if I had to act as a girl, and I replied “yeah that’s
fine, that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life.”
…TMI? Probably, but he was really nice about
it.
awkward
On the first day of camp I walked up to my
group of kids and asked them their names and to tell me a little bit about
themselves. I introduced myself to them simply as “Maddy,” and as I showed
interest in what they said to me the kids immediately opened up and told me all
about their teachers at school, their favorite sports and the annoying things
their brother did yesterday. As one of the boys in my group told me a story he
was interrupted by another enthusiastic camper, to which he replied, “hey hold
on, I’m trying to talk to him,” as he gestured in
my direction. I felt the sting of apprehension travel up my spine; a couple of
the kids looked confused, but the majority of them noticed nothing and kept on
chattering. I decided not to correct him because A. I was nervous about making
a scene, B. I wanted to kids to like me and was afraid that if I corrected them
they wouldn’t (even though obviously they were going to find out that I was a
“girl”…)
Later that day we were to head into the locker
rooms to change before going swimming. (This was one of the main reasons each
group had a male and female counselor, to supervise the campers in the locker
room.) As I followed my four nine-year-old female ankle-biters into the women’s
locker room they turned around and looked at me in confused disgust/
apprehensive amusement. “What the heck??” one girl giggled. I rolled my eyes and followed them in.
I changed into my bathing suit (swim trunks
and a sports bra) in a stall. And when I walked out I was met with an array of
offensive and startling reactions:
“What the heck is wrong with you?”
“That’s DISGUSTING.”
“What’s wrong with your chest? Oh my god I
feel so sorry for you!”
One girl simply shrieked.
I could feel my cheeks burn red with
embarrassment as I told them sternly to finished getting dressed. When we
exited the locker rooms into the pool area I was met with a similar but less
intense reaction from the boys.
“What’s with the bathing suit top?”
“What’s that on your chest?”
I played dumb, like I didn’t know that they
all had obviously thought I was a boy.
Well almost all of them. For some reason one girl
had instantly been able to read my biological gender. For the remainder of the
day this girl asked me such questions as “Do you ever wear dresses?” “Why do
you have short hair?” and “Are you ever going to get your ears pierced?” To
which I replied in a jumble of embarrassed and annoyed mumbles.
The thing about summer camp is that despite
its innocent visage, it turned out to be quite the gendered institution. At
least the one I was working at was. Or maybe it was just the age the kids were at.
The girls would only talk to, eat with, and walk next to other girls, and the
same with the boys. They complained when they had to play on the same team as
someone of the opposite gender (every f**king game), and tried to
display their superiority over the opposite sex with such comments as
“dodgeball is for men,” and “boys smell bad.” In fact, it reminded me of why I
hated middle school and most of the other kids around me so much when I had been young. I tried to
challenge them to think outside of their stereotypes, but it was a daunting
task to say the least. I remember one day in particular when we were all
sitting in arts and crafts and the girls were gushing over Justin Beiber, “What
would you do if Justin Beiber walked in through that door RIGHT NOW??” “OHEMGEE
I would ask him to MARRY ME and then I would kiss him!” “On the LIPSSS??” I was
sitting at the boys’ table (ha) when one suggested “Let’s KILL him.”
“Why do you want to kill Justin Beiber?” I
asked.
“Because I hate him, and he’s gay,” replied
one boy.
Oh shit.
This was bad stuff.
What could I say to make them understand…?
“Hey, hey, guys, calm down. That’s not any
reason to kill someone…”
They looked at me in awkward confusion and
then went back to painting.
As I mentioned before, trying to make kids
un-learn the gender (and other) stereotypes constantly shoved down their throat
by society since (and even before) they were born wasn’t going to be easy.
As the days went on the kids slowly started to
think of me as female. Well, some of them. I was amazed that even after seeing
me in the pool, in my sports bra, dozens of times, some of them were still
convinced I was male. After about a week one girl asked me, “why are you coming
into the girls locker room? You’re a boy.” Even today, on the last day of camp,
one of the boys pointed to his friend at lunch and said “Maddy, he thinks
you’re a girl.” My co-counselor rolled his eyes shot me a look like stupid f**kers and laughed to himself. (We love them,
really, but after six weeks they do start to get old.)
So here’s the problem with the kids thinking I
was male. I mean it should be a compliment, right? I passed very easily to a
large group of people, even if they were munchkins. The problem was, I had to
“correct” them by telling them I was a “girl.” I was asked to present as female
at work, and so every time a kid asked me if I was a boy, or asked if they were
in the wrong bathroom, or referred to me as “he,” I had to CORRECT them, except I wasn’t really correcting them, I was LYING. It was bogus, it made me feel weird, and I
didn’t like it. #thatswhatshesaid
I kept on thinking, why am I getting these little
buggers get to me? They’re kids. But
for some reason their questioning and teasing bothered me just a little. I have
never wanted to hit a child before the other day when a six-year-old boy would
not give up arguing with me about my gender.
CHILD: Are you a girl??
ME: Yes.
CHILD: Really??
ME: Yes…
CHILD: No you’re not, you’re a boy.
ME: No I’m not.
CHILD: Yes you are.
ME: Nope. I’m actually a girl.
CHILD: No, you’re not.
ME: Stop telling me what my gender is.
#arguingwithachild
CHILD: You look like a boy.
ME: Ok
CHILD: You have boy hair.
ME: Girls can have short hair.
CHILD: You sound like a boy.
ME: You sound like a girl.
CHILD: No. You look like a man.
ME: Ok
CHILD: You’re a woman who looks like a man.
ME: Alright, you’re being rude now. Stop it.
CHILD: No I’m serious (except it sounded like
seeweeus), you look like a boy.
ME: Ok, I know. But seriously, stop.
CHILD: No, I’m serious, you look like a man.
ME: I’m serious too, go back to your group
before you get into trouble.
CHILD: I’M SEEWEEUS!
ME: OK SO AM I STOP IT.
we were just playing with fake blood I would never hurt a child I promise
I swear I could have smacked him. Not my most
professional moment.
I’m not sure why this kind of exchange
bothered me so much, but every time it happened I felt anywhere from a tinge of
aggravation to fuming embarrassment. Maybe it was because I had to repeatedly
incorrectly correct the kids by lying about my gender identity, or maybe it was
simply the constant reminder of the fact that I am not comfortable with my
biological gender and currently inhabit the grey space between male and female.
In any case, these types of exchanges got on
my nerves every couple of days, but other than that working as a camp counselor
was quite enjoyable. Working with kids is challenging but definitely rewarding.
And although comments and confrontations regarding my gender will increase in
awkwardness and even malice, at least I am done pretending to be a cisgender
female. Now when I correct people, I can stand up for myself and correct them
CORRECTLY.
Hooray!
