I remember back in the day when my dad and sister went to the Town “Father Daughter Dance” down at the community center. My dad would get all dressed up, and my sister would wear some stupid dress or something, and off they’d go. Meanwhile, my mom and I would order pizza and wings and watch sports. Then, when my dad got home I’d tell him we got a pizza and hot garlic wings and watched the Knicks game (or whatever it was we watched), and he would kind of sigh and say, “that sounds fun, your sister and I did the Macarena though.”
Why am I telling you this story? Because I don’t think there’s actually any gender neutrality issues. I think this comes from some dad who just had enough. Think about it for a second. A dad works all week. He presumably wears a shirt & tie every day (unless he works at one of those “cool” hipster places that lets you wear jeans to work). The only thing getting him through the week is that Friday night is pizza night. He used to eat pizza three or four times a week when he was younger, but now since he is married and a father, he sides with his wife when she preaches to their kids about healthy eating habits. Behind closed doors though, his wife tells him that Fridays can be pizza night, a night that he longs for. The day has arrived. It’s pizza night. He’s starting to foam at the mouth about what kind of pizza he’s going to order. The second half of the workday is cross referencing the types of pizza he’s gotten over the past few weeks as well as where he has gotten the pizza from. It’s the best part of his week.
Then he remembers. He remembers that, sure, while he can get pizza tonight, it is the “Father Daughter Ball” and he can’t go home and throw on some stained sweatpants and a shirt from a strip club that his wife makes him wear inside out around the kids. He needs to dress up and take his daughter to dinner and a two hour dance. At dinner, he has to make sure everyone knows that he is going to the “Father Daughter Ball” with this little girl who is indeed his daughter, and not some random little girl.
As he’s sitting at his desk with this scenario running through his mind on repeat he says to himself “Not me. Not tonight.” So what does he do? He calls the school and says “Hey, uh, yeah so my daught-er-uh child uh isn’t sure if she’s a boy or a girl and she, I mean he, no I mean it, no no no, not ‘it,’ I mean my child is not comfortable going to an event called the ‘Father Daughter’ Ball so yeah.” He says this damn well knowing of this outrageous PC culture will oblige (and maybe even give him a refund). What he wasn’t expecting was that the people in charge would cancel the entire fucking dance. But whatever, it’s canceled. He’s got the night off.
To me, this is exactly what happened. I would imagine that you can be a maximum age of 12 to go to one of these dances and that the number of 12-year old’s there is probably slim-to-none. My guess would be that the mean age of children attending this dance is 9.3 years old. At 9.3 years old, is a child questioning their gender? Maybe I’m naive, but I actually have a hard time believing that. No child is going to their parents and complaining about how they’re uncomfortable about the term “daughter” in “Father Daughter Ball.”
Now, let me attack the second part of this. “Gender Neutrality.” Is that when they say that is discriminatory towards the opposite sex? In that case, I can speak first hand in saying I never felt left out when my dad and sister went to their Father Daughter Dance. Something fishy is going on. Maybe I’m woke, but I something doesn’t feel right. The whole thing is just malarkey if you ask me. Malarkey.