Gender and its benders

I was a peculiar child.

The kid with his nose buried in a book whenever he wasn’t in motion, the kid who begged his mom to rewind “Aladdin” or “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” multiple times a day, and the kid who cracked his head open five times before the age of six? That was me.

I was also peculiar in the sense that I never took gender norms very seriously. On any given day, you could see me acting out stories with my Disney Barbie dolls and later pitting my Rebel Alliance Star Wars action figures against the Empire’s AT-AT Walkers.

I frequently tied blankets around my waist and waltzed around my room like I was Rose from “Titanic”. Any pool I entered immediately became the flooding ship and Leonardo Di Caprio and I were searching for safety.

It was also common for me to jump around my room with my toy lightsaber, slaying Stormtroopers and rescuing Princess Leia.

The point is, I didn’t really care whether it was a “girl” thing or a “boy” thing. I was just in it for a great story, for some adventure.

I had all these memories drudged up this weekend because it was May 4, otherwise known as “May the Fourth Be With You,” a play off the popular phrase used in the Star Wars trilogies.

I got to thinking about how much Star Wars meant to me growing up as a little thoroughly midwestern Michigan boy. How many nights I spent rewinding those VHS tapes.

I remember when my stepdad bought them for me at the local Blockbuster. He had them put on hold and we picked them up together. I remember watching “A New Hope” and pleading with my parents to let me watch “The Empire Strikes Back” right after, but I had to wait until the next night. I remember finding out Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker’s father. I’ve never been the same since.

The animated Disney movies of the 90s, “Titanic” and the original Star Wars trilogy all opened me up to a vital truth in my life that still grounds me to this day. I’m a sucker for an engrossing and enthralling story. A story where someone saves the day, someone bursts into song, or someone falls in love. Or better yet, all three.

My male peers teased me for having my Disney dolls. I called them dolls while they mercilessly called them Barbie’s. I’m not sure either label made it any better, but I didn’t care. I still brought my Quasimodo and Esmeralda dolls into kindergarten for show and tell. I also brought my toy Millennium Falcon and R2-D2 action figure, potentially just to show the boys I did enjoy “boy” things.

This may seem like I was attempting to appease my male cohorts, but I promise that isn’t the case. I didn’t love Star Wars out of a deference to adhere to my gender normative interests.

I really just freaking loved Star Wars. I still do. But I love Disney movies, too. And I still swoon every time Kate Winslet comes out from under her big purple hat the first time she sees the Titanic.

These are memories and movies that have shaped me into the person I am today.

Nothing drives me more insane than when a male friend turns up his nose at watching a romantic comedy, or when a female friend can’t enjoy a shoot-em-up action flick. I understand everyone has personal taste and it isn’t strictly a “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” world.

At the risk of this column coming off as a command to be more like me, I just ask we all forgo gender norms for a moment and enjoy a good story together.

Because, trust me on this one, we’ve all got a little hero inside of us.