Why gender reveal parties need to go
I’m not a parent. I don’t have children.
It’s important you know right from the top that I’m not a mother so I couldn’t “possibly understand” the importance of a gender reveal party. Hogwash.
I’m already getting off topic, but if you’ve ever not been a parent as an adult, you have absolutely been told “well, someday when you’re a momma, you’ll understand.” I get it; I’ll never know a love like this, or I’ll never understand the stress or sleeplessness or… the list goes on. There’s probably some strong truth to that sentiment. I mean, I know how to change a diaper and cart twins in from the car with six bags of groceries. I know how to stop a tantrum and what to do if their poo is “that” color. I’m not a rube.
So, Gentle Reader, again I concede that I’m not a parent, so what I’m about to say will be met with vitriol from some.
But I think gender reveal parties are problematic, and for a few reasons.
First, gender and sex are not the same thing. I realize the Bible Belt leaves little room for tolerance toward a group of people who define themselves as a gender separate from the components they were born with. But some Todds become Tashas, and maybe seeing video footage of your parents celebrating blue balloons escaping a giant box can be hurtful later.
I was fortunate to grow up in a house where I was celebrated and encouraged and could be myself. I guess I got lucky that my female bits aligned with my femininity, but not everyone does. Why is that not ok? Why can’t everyone be themselves? And why do we force them into a pink or blue box before they’re even fully developed? I applaud my mother — my baby nursery was decorated in navy and white with little pops of orange. She didn’t force any gender conformities on me (with the one exception of deodorant during puberty).
Second, I think they’re tacky. I get it; you’re having a baby, and that is a BIG deal. In no way do I want to minimize the miracle of birth; for better or worse, babies change your world. But I still think forcing me to attend yet another event to celebrate you is gauche. I’ve likely been to your graduation, your bridal showers (plural), your rehearsal dinner, your wedding, your wedding reception, and will undoubtedly be invited to a baby shower (or twelve), and don’t get me started on this new trend of “viewing parties.”
I’ve paid my dues. I’ve celebrated you. I’m tired and broke from all the gifts I’ve purchased. I’m done.
I have this brilliant friend. She’s a hoot, and we met when we were thrown together as roommates on our study abroad trip. In adulthood, she set up a rule for all of her friends: the “I love you but hate showers” rule. Not bathing showers, but rather celebration showers. She just doesn’t do them. She doesn’t attend bridal or wedding or baby showers. It’s not her thing, everyone respects this, and she is no less loved for it because it’s a universal rule.
“I have this brilliant friend who has a rule: she just doesn’t do celebration showers.”
Man, do I wish I’d been so clever.
Finally, Is nothing sacred or private anymore? There was a time when we never used the word “pregnant” out loud. And while that’s an obviously ridiculous and outdated mode, let’s be honest; there’s inherently an indecency to the whole thing. You’re likely only preggers because you had sex. And call me crazy, but I still think — Dr. Ruth, forgive me — that sex should be private, creating a baby should be private, celebrating the sex of that baby should be private. There are some things that belong to you and your partner. The whole world doesn’t have to bear witness to every intimate detail of your life. STEP AWAY FROM YOUR INSTAGRAM FEED.
What you do is your business, and how you choose to celebrate is also your business. I just hope you’ll reconsider before you commit this one to the books. If for no other reason, don’t do it because it completely lacks originality. I had a friend tell me recently that she and her husband were choosing to wait until the day of the birth to find out the sex. I thought, what a novel idea! It’s one of the last true, great surprises in life. Technology and our need to obsessively plan has perhaps stolen a little bit of that unknowing charm.
Have a gender reveal, or don’t. Just please leave me off the guest list.