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As I lay awake last night, thinking with regret of the world's troubles, I consoled myself that at least there was no question of my own children being segregated by sex as I and my coaevals were, with boys shunted off to do metalwork and technical drawing, and girls to cook and sew, and no possibility of crossing the line in either direction. Was that only in the 1970s, I asked myself rhetorically? Yes it was, I replied.
Then this morning my daughter mentioned that they'd been visited by the school photographer, who'd declared that all the boys had to sit in this pose:
and all the girls in this one:
And the world was once more dark in my eyes.
In adjacent territory, those who remember my bemused rant about the Dewey system's piecemeal approach to sex and gender a couple of years ago may like to check out the blog of Dru Marland, who's been having a fascinating correspondence with Bristol City Library about the correct category for Richard Beard's excellent book about her life, his preconceptions, and the Welsh countryside, Becoming Drusilla. I'll be very interested to see what comes of it all.
Then this morning my daughter mentioned that they'd been visited by the school photographer, who'd declared that all the boys had to sit in this pose:
and all the girls in this one:
And the world was once more dark in my eyes.
In adjacent territory, those who remember my bemused rant about the Dewey system's piecemeal approach to sex and gender a couple of years ago may like to check out the blog of Dru Marland, who's been having a fascinating correspondence with Bristol City Library about the correct category for Richard Beard's excellent book about her life, his preconceptions, and the Welsh countryside, Becoming Drusilla. I'll be very interested to see what comes of it all.