Personal Narrative-Gender Stereotypes

Growing up, I went to a small daycare where I was one of two, occasionally three, girls compared to about ten boys This meant that much of my childhood was spent surrounded by boys.I knew my place, and I knew what activities I could and could not be a part of. When the boys were playing a serious round of Super Smash Bros Brawl on the Wii, I recognized that they would only allow me to watch. When I wanted to play Barbies I did not even bother to ask if any of the boys wanted to join.

There were times, however, when these stereotyped gender guidelines would blur, such as when the boys would beg me to do their makeup or when we all would finish destroying a Barbie whose poor arm had accidentally fallen off. These are the times that I remember most fondly, they were when I was most oblivious to being a part of the minority.

Everyday I would walk with two boys from my daycare, one a year older than me and one a year younger, to the bus stop a few blocks away. It was at this bus stop that we had the most fun. I remember collecting crab apples along the walk in order to line them up in the street for the bus to smush with a satisfying crunch. As fun as demolishing apples was, winter deemed the most exciting as it brought snow for us to build and play with. There was an older boy from the neighborhood who also went to my bus stop. He liked to be mean in a way that the other boys found funny, but I often did not comprehend. On one blistering winter day at the bus stop, the older boy was pushing my friends into the snow over and over, even though, with time, none of us found it amusing. Once he grew bored of pushing them around, he started throwing snowballs at them. This whole time he refused to acknowledge my existence, and I was too scared to acknowledge