A lack of football (Confessions of an eight year old).

“I think Dad and I don’t have so much in common . He  doesn’t like pink things or dolls. He prefers watching football and shouting at the television. 

George (who lives next door) and his Dad shout at the television together. I asked Dad to explain about football but he says girls don’t understand. The boys in school wouldn't let me play football with them either. They said I'd spoil the game. 
Apparently Boys understand things automatically about anything to do with balls, machines and cars. Maybe if I were a boy I would understand automatically.” 

This is what my eight year old niece told me about the issues she is currently experiencing with her father and male people in general. 

I had to inform her that years ago when I was a little girl I had exactly the same problem.

• 7 was the age I was when I got told that I should already know everything about football. 7 was the age I was told it was too late to learn. (For years I thought that there was some sort of special secret class where boys learn to play all the fun sports whilst girls aren’t watching, just to exclude us). 
• 14 was the age I was when I was told that I should already everything know about playing pool. Apparently all the boys in my class grew up watching "The Hustler" behind my back.  
• And finally 20 was the age I was when I was told that I should already know everything about darts. Darts was the last straw and because my aim has always been extremely good I hit the Bull’s Eye on my first go and was allowed to play. “They” thought I was exceptional. “They” are my peers who happen to have different genitals to me.

You see,  I wasn’t born knowing that we are not created equal. 

When I complained to the older (who I thought were wiser) men and women about not being allowed to play they reinforced what the boys had said and pointed me towards some dolls. 

Dolls ? I ask you? 

You will never get a sense of achievement from throwing a doll at a target and if you kick a doll you’ll end up breaking it which will usually frustrate some adult in your surroundings because they paid for it. 

So the advice I gave my little niece was this: 


"You can do whatever you want to do! And anyway when you’re eight you’re usually taller than all the little boys in your class. If all else fails get into a fight and win or puncture the ball.
It's called survival of the fittest! Trust me you are born knowing that. 
But do me this one favour, find out where and when they hold the secret football classes and let's crash one."