How My Military Father Raised Me “Like a Girl”

Spoiler Alert: He didn’t.

[It’s my Dad’s birthday, so I wanted to re-post this blog I wrote for The HBIC Project. It was originally posted for father’s day, but I think in light of recent commentary, it’s still incredibly relevant. Hope you enjoy!]


My father never taught me how to mow the lawn. We never used power tools together and certainly didn’t toss the ol’ pigskin around. We didn’t do these things—but not because I was a girl, but because I didn’t want to. I had terrible allergies to anything resembling nature. Had I ever used a chainsaw, there’s a 99.9 percent chance that I would’ve sliced off my arm (thanks, lack of coordination), and I’m less athletic than Rob Kardashian on a bad day.

In the age of Title IX, some might say that girls’ abilities are judged based on how cool they are with “masculine” activities, like drinking beer while watching “the game,” or even playing “the game” itself. At the same time, some – but not all! – feminists are quick to remove themselves from anything to do with men. That perspective fails to recognize that men are awesome, too.

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