Gender Issues and Cedar Point

Last Friday just before lunch time, I was pondering the near future, specifically the inevitable notion that I am soon to be widowed by my husband's accelerated MBA program at Michigan State. While trying to come up with a fun, inexpensive excursion we could go on together before immersion (aka hell) week, I was struck by the obvious--Cedar Point. We haven't been to Sandusky since the debut of the Maverick, thus denying the coaster-freak sides of our personalities. Giving in to my capricious nature, my husband picked up a pair of tickets at AAA, and we were locked in.

A rainy morning prohibited the usual pre-trip burst of energy Cedar Point allows, so we didn't make it to Sandusky until around 1:00. When we pulled into the city, we were a little confused by the number of bikers, increasing as we neared our destination. The purpose for the squadrons of helmetless riders became apparent as we passed by Shifters, one of the many upscale establishments hosting "Ohio Bikers Weekend." While I was personally tempted by the "Discount Tattoos" sign, my husband shook his head at me and the prospect of fresh ink, and insisted we continue on our way.

Our day at the Point may be categorized as the norm, other than the fact that we rode all the major attractions within four hours. The issue I would like to address for today's topic came to me before we entered the park. Despite the fact that the roller-coast was not terribly busy, we parked somewhat far away. As we walked toward the gate through a third row of cars, I saw it; a teenager getting a hummer in the front seat of his car. I pressed on, doubting the split-second scene I thought I had just witnessed, but when I heard my husband's laughter behind my forward progress, I knew he had seen the same thing. Perhaps most people would have giggled at Dave's suggestion that we wait at the gate so he could slap high-fives with the kid, but having risen recently from a road-induced nap, I felt like sparring.

After Dave announced how "proud" he was of the young man I reminded Dave of all the negative karma he has created for himself regarding our someday children. With all of the sports discussions of his future brood and the crossing of fingers that his sons are built like my Serbian family, I am quite certain that we are going to have girls despite his claim of marrying into "good stock" for begetting tall sons. "What about the girl? That could be your daughter someday, will you be proud of her also?" I asked. "You're the black hole of fun," my sweetheart said to me in his usual attempt to dissuade me from continuing my rant on equality. Though I know he will love our children regardless of gender, I can tell he is very frightened by the possibility of parenting a girl. I have to imagine the reason for that is because just as quickly as most people would high-five the boy, they would call the girl a degrading name. In certain ways, girls have to live up to higher expectations than boys, and I can imagine the pressure on a parent to make sure their children grow up according to a specific set of social standards based on gender. I think it's stupid, but I understand it. I think I may damn myself if I continue on about my own parental ideals, so I'll leave that alone for now. I can't expect to sway people's opinions with my sour perspective on the standards women are expected to uphold and the judgments cast on young girls of which young boys are exempt, but I can hope to kill the fun often enough to prepare my husband for the possibility of raising contributing female members of society.