It’s hard to believe that only 1 or 2 generations ago, it was considered kind of radical to teach your daughters that we could “be anything we want when we grow up.” Free To Be You and Me was considered revolutionary and Sesame Street seemed like leftist propaganda to some. In my parents’ skinny row house in downtown Toronto, this meant that my sister and I could wear striped OshKosh B’Gosh overalls, just like our friend Gerry next door. It meant we could ride Big Wheels or roller skates down our little dead end street. And it meant that when we saw a doctor, it might be a woman, and she might be wearing pants.
Flash forward to 2017. Now I’m raising three kids in Toronto. I’m proud of the fact that we’re way past having to tell our kids they can do what they want with their careers. Tell my son to take the garbage out and you get “Well, that was sexist!” from his sister. “Fair enough! You can take the recycling.” Recently, though, I got zinged with one I hadn’t heard before: “Mom, are you assuming my gender?!”