My child is six. She has lived a short period of time and yet has learned so much.
She tells me that the sun is a star and that blood is made in our bones. She also asks a LOT of questions, like are mosquitoes REAL, and what about dragons?
Her world is full of wonder, and a lot of it I understand. After all, I’m the one who read her the Magic School Bus books about the solar system and the human body. I know she’s interested in vampires and knows that they aren’t real, I understand that she is baffled that there exists a flying animal that DRINKS OUR BLOOD, and I tell her that I’ve never seen a dragon myself.
She is learning a lot, all the time.
She is also revealing a lot, showing me truths of our culture, all the time.
The other night at dinner it happened again, she lifted her shirt and got really upset that her tummy “was big.”
“Oh honey, your tummy is just the right size, it’s you size. And everyone’s tummy gets bigger after we eat, the food is traveling through our intestines so our body can get the nutrients, see~” I lift my shirt and try to hide my heartbreak, “that’s what bodies do.”
She’s six and once again I’m ready to burn down the world. But soon we’re on to other topics. She tells me about Lunar New Year and how cool tigers are and shows me the dragon that she drew at school.
And the thing about dragons is they’re good. The dragon isn’t going to hurt my child but our culture will. The toxic air that she breathes in every day may. The poison that she inhales out in the world that tells her, at six, that smaller is better and less is more.
I know I cannot defeat diet culture. I know I cannot “slay this dragon,” because the dragon isn’t the danger, the dragon just needs to be free. Scales on dragons? Good. Scales in my bathroom? Dangerous.
Pretty Good Ugly 