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Monday, October 26, 2009

On walking

I was five and it was a beautiful summer day when my grandmother taught me to walk like a boy.

“Your steps are too short. Boys take long strides,” she said. “Like this.” She demonstrated, exaggerating a swagger across her front lawn that looked like John Wayne with hemorrhoids.

I tried it, stretching my legs long with each step. It felt unnatural, and I was embarrassed as my twin sister, my grandmother and all the cars driving by looked on. It had never occurred to me that boys walked one way and girls walked another. It reminded of the recent time when my father looked at me and my Cabbage Patch Doll with disappointment.

“Boys don’t play with dolls like that,” he said.

But I did.

And apparently I walked like a girl, too.

“Not quite that long,” my grandmother said. My legs tired from reaching so far, but I wanted to get it right. Walk like a boy. Not a girl. Walk like a boy. Not a girl. Walk like a boy. You are a boy. Not a girl.

Twenty-three years later, this lesson remains. I reflexively watch my reflection in storefront windows as I walk down the street or through a Minneapolis skyway. Sometimes my steps are short, and I am instantly five years old again, hurt and embarrassed: Walk like a boy. Not a girl.

Other times I satisfy myself by appearing quite naturally masculine.

And still other times I think, Up yours, Grandma. This is just how I walk… And then I put a little swish in it.

Posted by Aaron on October 26, 2009 10:13 PM