What I can't do

Sitting in the car with M the other day, we played with a "toy" she got from a Chick-fil-a. Their toys are almost annoyingly educational. Actually, I appreciate them for that, but it's hard not to laugh a little. This time, the prize was a plastic D ring with flippable cards for each of the presidents. Her set was somewhere between Woodrow Wilson and Harry Truman.

Watching her play with it I thought about my feminist ideals. I thought about how far we've not come though we pretend we have just because now it's cool for girls to play soccer. Her father and I can raise her to believe she can do and be whatever she wants, that there are no barriers in this world to achieving whatever kinds of greatness she can imagine. We can raise both of our girls as if sexism no longer exists. And while that's certainly not true, I guess some part of me wanted to ignore it as if it never existed. Because if girls never know we have been treated differently, there is no need to prove anything, no over compensating. There is just being a woman in a world where everyone has an equal shot.

And yet, when I looked at that group of men who've presided over this country I realized that there is nothing I can do to hide that from her. It's almost embarrassing to me when I imagine really teaching her our history. As if I hope she won't notice that women are conspicuously absent.