I Never Win Because I’m a Girl

A conversation with my daughter

Her: We race sometimes at recess, but I never win because I’m a girl.

Me: I don’t understand. Why does that matter?

Her: Because boys are faster.

Me: Oh… you think boys are faster.

Her: Yeah.

Me: Do you remember when I told you I used to race people when I was a big kid?

Her: Yes.

Me: Well I practiced very hard for four years so I could run faster than anyone else. That’s a lot of practicing, right?

Her: Yes.

Me: And even when I got as fast as I will ever ever get, there were still women who could run faster than me even if they were wearing backpacks with heavy lunches in them and heavy shoes.

Her: Fast girls?

Me: Very fast.

Her: I want to be fast.

Me: Then you will be.

Her: I want to be faster than you.

Me: You probably already are.

Her: I want to do everything good.

Me: Do you remember when I told you I help people who can’t see?

Her: Yeah, with the special dogs.

Me: Yup. Do you remember how much I want to be able to play the piano?

Her: Yes.

Me: Well some of those people who can’t even see the piano can play it better than I ever will, no matter how much I practice.

Her: Boys and girls?

Me: The piano doesn’t care who you are. Neither does the ground when you run.

Her: I’m going to be so fast.

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