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.
Me: Do you remember when I told you I used to race people when I was a big kid?
Me: Well I practiced very hard for four years so I could run faster than anyone else. That’s a lot of practicing, right?
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?
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.