The One Thing I Want to Go Back and Tell My Five-Year-Old Self

That, yes, boys can be nurses and girls can be doctors

It’s funny what we remember from our childhoods. I often ask people their memories, as I feel it somehow says something about the life they lived or who they became. My only memory of pre-school is what boys can and cannot do.

There are countless possible events I was part of. Days were filled with playing outside and inside. Role plays, art, craft, lunchtimes, excursions, naps. I know these possible memories because I worked with children over a number of years. I know what children do and how they fill up their days.

But only one day ever comes to mind. And not even that, it was an eight-second reprimand. One powerful sentence that left a forty-year imprint:

Boys can’t be nurses and girls can’t be doctors.

Was that the exact way it was said? I’m not sure. It is possible my memory has distorted the words over time. But the message was abundantly clear and indelibly delivered.

My friend Sally and I were playing doctors and nurses. I put on the nurse's uniform — a short white dress with an apron. Sally put on the doctor’s uniform; white trousers and pants with a stethoscope.

I never once wanted to be the doctor, nor wear the pants. I was happy in my chosen role and I loved my uniform. I was also happy to take directions from my friend, or I should say, my doctor colleague, about how we were going to treat the patients.

I remember this being the end of the day, as the teacher hurriedly came to give me my first lesson in gender as a social construct. It was important for the teacher to make sure I changed before my mother picked me up. How would seeing her son dressed in a nurse's outfit reflect on the pre-school? Surely I must have been confused about my gender.

Fact: I wasn’t confused

I knew exactly who I was and I was comfortable with wearing a dress.

In truth, this was not going to be my last lesson in gender politics. I went onto a patriarchal Catholic school that did well to reinforce its highly gendered and homophobic teachings on me. It was somehow lost on the priests that they, too, liked to wear dresses.

Children and teens today, fortunately, live in a society with far greater open-mindedness and acceptance of gender fluidity. Part of me wishes I was born in these times.

But despite how far we have progressed, it is still a struggle for adults and parents to understand the importance of fluidly exploring and understanding gender from an early age. That we possess the masculine and feminine in each of us to varying degrees.

If my pre-school teacher came to talk with me and ask questions, she would have seen that I was comfortable in a caring role. That I didn’t have any issue in not being in charge. That I liked to dress fluidly. That I was fundamentally okay just as I was.

If I was that teacher, I would have joined in the role play and said:

You look like an amazing pair of medical professionals. Nurse, what’s your name? I seem to be feeling unwell, do you think you could help me?

And I would reply, as the nurse:

Teacher, this is Dr. Sally. She is amazing and she will be able to help you get better in no time. If you’d like to sit down, I’ll go get you some water. You’re in good hands.

That, my friends, is how it’s done.

I never went on to become a nurse, but after all, that’s not the point. I did go on to become a very compassionate, empathic, service-oriented adult. I have spent a lifetime unpacking the false stories I was told about gender and sexuality in my childhood. And I’m happy to engage in any conversation with anyone who is interested.