All children are sensitive about some aspect of their self-perception. What child hasn’t thrown tantrums about their haircut being too short? Or cried from the embarrassment of not receiving a good grade when everyone else got one? In any case, every kid feels confused when facing their true selves. I’m sure every kid has felt the disappointment of realizing that they can’t become what they’ve always wanted to be– a powerful superhero, a terrifying dinosaur, or a magical unicorn. As children, our sense of self is so specific and underdeveloped that when it starts to change, it can be distressing.
In our communities, we set up many parameters of behavior that help children learn who they are. Psychology tells us that western society commonly uses a social learning theory where we reinforce gender-congruent behaviors through praise and punishment. This is shown in parents praising their little girls for playing with dolls, and in turn punishing their boys for doing the same. Our instructions for these kinds of attributes are established early and strongly. Growing up, I was welcomed to the frivolous dresses and cheerfulness of young girlhood. Being young, it was all I had known, so I accepted that definition unbothered. In one instance, I had invited my neighbor over to play. Once we ran to my room, he had asked to try on my cheap Cinderella costume. He had successfully fit inside it, so excitedly I told him to take it home. His careless face turned pale. Anxiously, he escaped the dress and repeated that his father would be angry with him if he took it. In my childish way, it took me a long time to understand why he was so afraid. We were in first grade.
When we are young, we believe in the harsh rigidness of labels. Right now you are this, so you can never be that. We can only fantasize about who we could’ve been. At the playgrounds, we put on different characters through pretending. So, much like my curious friend, I peered outside of the box of girlishness. Playing house, I’d choose to be the father. Away from the sandbox, I returned to a pepto-bismol pink room with walls encased in a purple tinkerbell wallpaper. When children have themed rooms, it usually indicates that they’re obsessed with that theme. However, I had never really shown interest in Tinkerbell – Ariel was always my favorite. Every little girl loves mermaids, but maybe it was something about Ariel yearning for a different version of herself that had drawn me to her.
No one really told Ariel that she could become human. She had to seek results on her own, in the deep dark ocean. In the same way, when I was growing up, there was no guide to change who you were as a person. You will always be how you were born, and you will always abide by those standards. Other children may have believed this concept of stagnation in relation to their own struggles: “You are a bad student, so you will never be as valuable as better, smarter children.” Yes, we are told that we can be anything we want when we grow up: scientists, doctors, world leaders. But, children only believe what they are taught.
In many instances, society prioritizes one standard over all others. Psychological studies in child development show that when dealing with identity, kids already believe that caucasian dolls are more important than dolls of other races. One way we can combat these heartbreaking beliefs of internal prejudice is through positive representation. In my process of self-exploration, my confidence in my identity was reinforced through the experiences of men who were like me, and happy. Children of all backgrounds should be able to identify themselves with a role model, fictional or real, and dispel any negativity about something that’s a part of them. As a result of positive role models, children can realize that all identities are equal, and that their peers are not lesser or better than they are.
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