My total failure to be a feminist role model

"I am hyperaware of this impressionable toddler’s gaze as she watches me scrub the toilet whilst brushing my teeth in my dressing gown."

My first two babies were boys, and my only real worries were that they would be exhausting, enjoy fighting and not know “how to behave” in public. This did, of course, all turn out to be true.

But I didn’t really think that much about their destinies, the opportunities that would be open to them, the boxes they would be squeezed into or out of. I’ve always just felt they would “be all right”, despite the pressures of playground one-upmanship, general willy-measuring and toxic masculinity all around. 

With a metrosexual dad with a good grip on a Rowenta steam iron, their chances of turning into brutes, I thought, were slim. I didn’t really worry when they showed no interest in the wooden tea set or the bead threading kit and glitter glue. I just let them get on with playing with Spiderman riding a digger. 

And then I had a girl. She was a total surprise (I’m not sure why, since there is a 50 per cent chance of such a thing happening), and from the start I felt an extra sense of responsibility. It was as if I bore the weight of a hundred years of feminism on my shoulders.

I suddenly felt that I must do everything in my power to protect her from poor role models, a world (still) obsessed by the objectification of women and open her horizons to exciting sports, thrilling careers and a world of possibilities. All this, without denigrating the amazing work of “traditional” wives and mothers. Phew. 

The new jazzy books about inspiring girls, featuring Aisholpan - Mongolian eagle huntress, Marie Curie and Amelia Earhart, glare out from the shelves of Waterstones. I have failed in every way to be anything like these women, so how can I expect my daughter to be? (Marie and Amelia died in rather upsetting ways, but we will draw a veil over that detail for now).

I am hyperaware of this impressionable toddler’s gaze as she watches me scrub the toilet whilst brushing my teeth in my dressing gown. I didn’t know whether to laugh or weep when she spontaneously joined me for the first time sweeping up in the kitchen.

It’s lovely to have someone to share the chores with, but why did the boys never once do this with me? I certainly haven’t encouraged it – except by being the one person in the house to do absolutely all the chores. That may have something to do with it. 

Should I do the chores in secret now, in order to bring up an emancipated daughter? Should I make my commuting husband do more than iron his shirts?

This morning, I stopped her from taking out the recycling bin because officially it is her older brother’s job. Furious, she threw the recycling across the lounge. That’s my girl, I thought, beholding the great fan of yogurt pots and cereal boxes. Make a nice mess and definitely don’t clear it up.

The online world is also a scarier place. A trip to YouTube is a terrifying minefield : avoiding clips of women in mini shorts shaking their bums towards the lense is harder than you think, especially if you are a fan of…well, any sort of popular music. With my boys it's simply a question of finding the Stormzy video with the least swearing. 

And what about activities, culture, books? When she comes home from nursery obsessed with Frozen and blonde plaits and flowing capes, do I discourage it? Or maybe Elsa and Anna are actually pretty cool role models? I like all the strong independent woman stuff, but I think a girl should be able to feel complete without a blow-dry and makeup. And let’s face it, all those princesses have unrealistic hair, even the dowdier ones.

Fortunately, my daughter is already brilliant with a football, but I’m terrified the continued male dominance in the sport, both at school and in the world at large, will put her off.

I may be over dramatising, but I’m feeling the pressure on this. I gave up a responsible job so I could freelance and grab back some time to be with my children (and do more chores) so I feel I will never be the role model I should be.

That leaves me to rely on Merida from Brave and some empowering illustrations of Michelle Obama (who, disappointingly, rose to fame by being someone’s wife, despite being brilliant).

Main pic: Brickset

Spiderman: Gage Skidmore

Aisholpan: Gordon Correll