I recall being taught in History class that women began wearing trousers during WWI when the worked the fields and factories, prior to that they almost always wore only skirts or dresses. I wondered if the girls felt like I do when they were first given boy’s clothes to wear. Maybe Miss O’Neill might know? Mum’s voice dragged me from my thoughts. “What?”
“You were miles away.” Mum said. “I was asking what you were thinking about.”
“Oh nothing.” I replied, before telling her.
“I don’t know… in those days children wore what they were given. I don’t think they had much choice nor did they expect a choice” she explained. “They mostly wore hand-me-downs from an older brother or sister, or clothes made from old bedding or an old pair of curtains.” she added, smiling a whimsical smile. “A new dress would be a special treat for an extra special occasion.”
“I reckon it’s better wearing boys clothes if you’re a girl than it is being a boy and wearing girl’s.” I suggested. Mum said that thanks to the age old presumption that girls are inferior to boys, then it’s understandable that boys don’t want to wear girl’s clothes. “Girl’s aren’t inferior.” I stated. Mum smiled and agreed, then claimed that in some ways, girl’s are better than boys. “How?” I asked. So far as I’ve been told, girls & boys, and men & women should be equal.
Mum cited the youth crime rate and adult prison population as an example. She explained that out of just over fifty percent of the population women make up barely five percent of the prison population. “If we treat boys a bit more like we treat girls, maybe less of them would go down the wrong path and end up in jail.”
“I’m not going to end up in jail.” I insisted.
“Of course you’re not… but the statistics speak for themselves.” Mum replied. She reminded me that I’d said myself that there seems to be hardly any bad behaviour at school, and suggested that that might solely be down to the way we have to dress. “Of course a good school and good teachers help, but I think petticoating the boys helps more.”
“Do you think George and Andrew have to dress like girls all the time?” I asked. Mum needed reminding who they were. “The boys in my class with girl’s hair.” I said.
“I don’t know.” Mum replied. “If they do, maybe they don’t see it as ‘dressing like girls’.” Mum suggested. “Maybe they’re just as happy wearing a nice dress as they are jeans and a jumper.”
“I doubt it.” I presumed.
“You’re probably right.” Mum said as a wry smile swept her face. After a moment she said, “So… these boys… their hair can’t be very long because the school rules state that boy’s hair should be no longer than the collar.” I described George’s hairstyle using my hands and a series of mumbles. “Like a bob?” Mum asked.
I shrugged and nodded but wasn’t sure what one would call it. I added that he also wears a white plastic headband before being asked to describe Andrew’s hair. “It’s about the same length as George’s but it’s really curly and he wears a ribbon.”
“A white one?” Mum asked. I nodded. “I might put ribbons in your hair when it’s grown a bit.” she suggested. You can guess my reaction. I told her that I didn’t want long hair and I certainly don’t want ribbons or anything like that in it.
Mum didn’t reply. I suspected she was only teasing me but I didn’t seek clarity in the matter. “What’s for tea?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Nothing yet.” my mother said, pointing out the time. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really… just wondering.” I replied.
I felt a bit more at home throughout my second week attending Endsleigh Comprehensive School. However that’s because I knew where all my classes were held and was less reliant on George telling me where I needed to be. The uniform still feels wrong but the PE kit isn’t quite so bad as the sporty skirt (although short) isn’t pleated and the big gym knickers are neither lacy nor frilly. I made few more acquaintances and didn’t feel quite so much like a stranger. I also learned that my classmates also have to wear their uniforms at home whilst doing their homework, so I didn’t feel quite so hard done by on that front.