Why I Refuse To Call My Daughter A Tomboy
Catherine Connors

Oh, the joys of the pigeonhole. Something to help those who cannot deal with anything as complicated as a human being.

In the 19th century pink was a boys colour. Red was masculine and for men so pink, not as strong a colour as red, became a masculine colour for boys. And now it is a colour for girls. Not sure why as there are so many other colours out there.

My partner’s granddaughter is three, though to look at her you would think she was five, and I have seen her with a doll in one hand and a toy sword in the other. She has a very strong personality, and physically strong, and I think when she goes to school no child is going to push her around.

At no time would I call her a Tomboy. Because that would in no way depict who she is. She is who she is and does not need a label. And though not related to her apart from my relationship with her grandmother I love her as if she was my own granddaughter.

One name I have called her, in jest, is a monkey. Like all two year olds she liked to climb, so I said she was a little monkey. The other days I called her something else and she immediately replied with a smile on her face no I’m not I’m a monkey, you said so. Did I mention she has a good memory. Worst part is that the one thing she has gotten from me is her sense of humour.

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