Hellooooo! Oh, how I've missed you. Although I had a wonderful time on our vacation, it's nice to get back to the land of the living. There's only so much drunken debauchery a girl can handle! I'll share some of the pics from our jaunt over to the Big Easy another time, but for now, let's just jump right in.
Surely by now you've caught wind of the Canadian hippies* who have spontaneouly spiraled into their own fifteen minutes of fame because of their choice to "raise their child without regard to gender." No, really. They are only releasing its gender to a handful of people and they are sticking to their guns. Now, I'm not a parent, so I probably shouldn't judge, but . . . I'm judging. In fact, I'm doing so much judging, I'm almost speechless. Forget all of the psychological and sociological theories that say that gender identification is a very important part of child development. Those quacks obviously don't know what they're talking about! Right? I'm rolling my eyes. Profusely.
Do they really think they're doing their child any favors? Ok, so perhaps it isn't such a big deal now. The kid is four months old. I'm sure (s)he could give a shit at this point. However, they are seriously just setting poor Storm up for failure. All the weird developmental issues (and most likely, eventually even sexual issues) aside, this poor kid is going to go off to school and won't know what bathroom to use (or how to use it, for that matter), or what peer group to seek out. It's hard enough being a kid nowadays in our shallow society, having to worry about popularity and wearing the right brand of clothing . . . do you really want to add to those existing burdens by giving your child a gender complex? Not to mention the name choice. Storm? Listen, I hate to break the news, but your child is not a member of the X-Men with the ability to control the weather. I'm not sure if that was the inspiration, or it was the most popular stripper at their local titty bar. Either way, this poor child is destined for a life of merciless teasing. Trust me. I got teased just for being mixed. If I got teased because I didn't "talk black enough," this kid is definitely going to get teased for not knowing if (s)he's a boy or a girl. Talk about unnecessary confusion.
The best part is the mother's response to the immediate wave their story caused:
"The strong, lightning-fast, vitriolic response was a shock," said Kathy Witterick in a letter. "The idea that the whole world must know our baby's sex strikes me as unhealthy and voyeuristic."
Really?! Unhealthy? Voyeuristic? Um, I beg to differ. What's unhealthy is self-serving parents who force their radical (liberal or otherwise) philosophies on their defenseless children who have no say in their upbringing. What's unhealthy is swearing your 2 and 5 year-old children to keep the family secret. Voyeuristic? Maybe she should have looked that big word up before she used it. I know I'm not getting my rocks off, worrying about this poor baby's gender issues. Naturally, people's curiosity have been piqued - you were in The Toronto Star! Everybody knows that millions of people subscribe to that publication. Haha! This publicity and interest is obviously just what the midwife ordered for these hippies - if they wanted their story to be private . . . they probably shouldn't have told their story to the world. Additionally, she's giving her family a lot of credit here. "Must" was a strong choice of words. I don't have to know the gender of your baby; I want to. Furthermore, I wouldn't even give a shit if you hadn't paraded said baby around greater North America with its cherubic little cheeks and sweet, little, blond curls. Screw you, lady. With your self-importance and hippie superiority.
That said - again, I'm not a parent. I guess it really isn't my place to judge. So instead of pointing fingers and namecalling (which I've already gotten out of the way), I will instead follow Southpark's lead and just simply "Blame Canada."
*I don't mean to use the term "hippie" derogatorily. In fact, I mean it in the truest sense possible. Come on; they're obviously hippies! She gave birth to Storm in a bathtub. On purpose! I'm sorry, but no amount of Clorox would help to erase the memory of afterbirth floating in the garden tub. No, thank you. Sign me up for the epidural drip in a nice and cozy maternity ward, please.
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