Parenting gimmicks: crushing the individuality of children and guilt-tripping adults

The mean and narrow-minded advice in Steve Biddulph’s “Raising Girls”.

Confession time: I own a copy of Steve Biddulph’s Raising Boys. To be fair, I didn’t actually pay for it. I liberated it from the book exchange shelf in my office. I thought it was better in my hands than in those of someone who might actually want to use it on his or her sons. Rather than try any of Biddulph’s techniques on my own knockabout, boisterous, really-good-at-imagining-what-shapes-look-like-if-you-turn-them-the-other-way-round little people, I fully intended to use it just for “research” ie the same kind of “know your enemy” wallowing in bile that drives many a self-respecting liberal to Mail Online.

Having snuck the book home, I opened it at a random page, just to get a feel for the genre. I happened upon a section entitled “Boys who want to be girls”. So what does Biddulph have to say on supporting children who are questioning the gender they were assigned at birth? Worse than sod all, it turns out. He refers to a study of three – that’s right, three! – boys and endorses the researcher’s view that it is “a delay in development – not a fixed problem”:

It is not connected with homosexuality, and the boys [the researcher] studied outgrew the ‘disorder’ by late adolescence.                                   

Or, in Daily Mail-speak, don’t worry, he’s not queer – it’s just a phase. But this isn’t the section that concerned me the most. Oh no, it’s this:                                  

Alison Soutter is unsure about causation, but the three boys in her study all had fathers who had disabilities or illnesses that kept them very passive in the family. It may be the good, warm involvement of a father in family life that works preventatively, ensuring that boys find the male role model appealing.

Now let’s just consider that for a moment. Dads, if the child who was identified as male at birth tells you he wants to be a woman, don’t think for a minute that this is okay. It’s because you’ve failed to show him how to be “a man”. What’s more, being ill or disabled makes you a seriously flawed male role model.

And this is coming from someone who is telling parents how to raise their children. Someone who is considered an authority. If Richard Littlejohn or Julie Burchill came out with it, we’d recognise it for the hateful bigotry it is. But it’s Steve Biddulph and he’s a touchy-feely parenting advisor. Hence this all seems to slip under the radar.

And hence with the release of Raising Girls, there hasn’t been a single headline screaming “Bigoted author now decides to tell everyone (except the disabled) how to raise their other kids – you know, the ones dressed in pink”. Certainly, Biddulph receives a good dressing-down from Dr Brooke Magnanti in the Daily Telegraph. But elsewhere Biddulph’s advice on how to raise almost everyone, based simply on the genitals they’re born with, is received with good humour, if not praise. I think there needs to be a far more vocal rejection of Biddulph’s whole project. I think the whole thing stinks.

Raising Girls was written because Biddulph started to notice that “today it is girls who are in trouble, in a world that seems bent on poisoning their confidence and trashing their lives” (an observation that’s never been made by any feminist, ever, over the last fifty years). It’s good to know Steve’s motives are honorable and not remotely related to some market segment analysis that identified a great big swathe of paranoid parent wealth that hadn’t yet been tapped. The book promises to tackle “all the issues – bullying, eating disorders, body image, alcohol, managing social media, and relating happily to boys”. Should I comment on the absence of sexism, misogyny and reproductive choices from this list? Perhaps it’s churlish of me to do so; it reveals my bias. But the fact is, I believe sexism genuinely exists. And while it’s all very convenient to airily blame eating disorders and body image issues on “the media” and “consumer culture”, I think you also need to look at the sexism underpinning these cultural messages. It’s not that distant from the type of sexism which leads to books telling you to bring up boys and girls in fundamentally different ways, or that men and women can’t really communicate with each other.

Books such as Biddulph’s – and John Gray’s, and Barbara and Allan Pease’s, and Simon Baron-Cohen’s, and Louann Brizendine’s etc. etc.. – seem to rest on the assumption that we’re only just emerging from a radical feminist phase in which the message was that EVERYONE IS EXACTLY THE SAME. Only now is it safe to stick one’s head over the parapet and say “actually, people are different. But only in two very strictly limited, non-variable ways”. So, everyone, do you remember this time of sexless beige uniformity? Because I don’t. I was born in the 1970s. When I was at primary school, they’d only just started allowing boys to do sewing (although they got to do practical pencil cases while we girlies had to settle for useless samplers). By the time I left secondary school in the 1990s, it was the start of Loaded culture and retrosexism. And then shortly after that neurosexism and evolutionary psychology began their steady rise to the top of the sexism tree. At no point have I experienced a gender-neutral world. Nor would I wish to. But it strikes me as bizarre that in a society in which gender stereotyping is rife – in which one day I’d have a “pretty, sociable baby” and the next I’d have a “boisterous little tyke” depending on whether the blue or the pink bib was in the wash – there is a massive industry devoted to finding new ways to justify and promote these stereotypes.

There have been some excellent, rigorous debunkings of the “research” that justifies “essential differences” – both Deborah Cameron and Cordelia Fine write with verve, wit and enough research to outweigh any wishful thinking (Baron-Cohen could learn much from this model). Yet the myth that we all need a helping hand with our gender stereotyping still persists. Sexism sells, and gender-based conditioning is miserably self-reinforcing. I have two children. One is chatty, sociable, a little show-off; the other is precise, quiet, with a brilliant memory and a love of building things. Unless one or both of them ever tell me otherwise, they’re both boys. I think they are amazing, but also very different, yet it’s me, the feminist, who’s meant to be in denial about difference.

Raising Girls is worse than most books of this type. It’s worse, I think, because it’s about children and how we respond to them. It’s also worse because it mixes enough anodyne fact with boorish opinion to convince. So much of the book is unimpressively correct that it’s easy to slip into acceptance mode and not notice the places where it’s Sid the Sexist hiding behind the language of The Modern Parents. The section on what happens in puberty might be lifted from one of those leaflets that’s handed out during “the period talk” at school. The bit on eating disorders probably comes from one of those “now for the facts” tables that magazines include at the end of someone’s personal account of anorexia hell. None of it is controversial, yet I can’t help thinking that if you want help with a particular parenting issue, it’s not a vague “parenting” expert you want; it’s an expert in the actual issue (Christopher G. Fairburn for eating disorders, for instance). It’s as though Biddulph has half-heartedly read up on a few of the topics covered in Cosmo, blended this with his own brand of willful essentialism, thrown in a few “caring” noises and hey presto! All you need to raise a girl! But let’s not forget the nasty bits.

To be fair, Biddulph has backed off from the explicit transphobia (“transgender girls […] are another category we haven’t addressed in this book” – I have to say, in this case it’s better than nothing, or should that be ‘better than something’?). But we have a whole chapter devoted to slut-shaming, charmingly called Too Sexy Too Soon (I don’t think this is a reference to Right Said Fred). For me, this part in particular stood out:

I couldn’t help smiling when a colleague who counsels sex-workers told me there was real annoyance among her clients that they could no longer be identified in the streets because 17-year olds dressed and looked just like them.

I don’t know whether or not this is true, but I bet Biddulph couldn’t help smiling, not least because he’s hit on a superficially PC-way to say “young girls today? They all look like prostitutes!” without having to acknowledge that setting such “humorous” observations in this context is dismissive of sex workers, not to mention strangely prurient.

The biggest disappointment for me (yes, I’m still capable of feeling let down by this) comes with the section on being a single mum. If you’re a single mum, don’t worry; Biddulph has “talked to hundreds of single mums”. He no doubt has whole binders full of you. All the same, he’s managed to boil down his wisdom to one page and two points, which are: one, for god’s sake, find some man who’ll be willing to do that “male role model” thing, even if he’s not sleeping with you, and two, don’t be such a man-hating harpy, or in Biddulph’s words:

If you are angry and disappointed with men, [your daughter] may be ambivalent, either feeling the same, or flipping to the other extreme and being man crazy. It’s important that you get help for any issues about being hurt by men, and that you relate to men with strength and dignity, but warmth too, so that she sees you get along with men.

Because that is, quite clearly, the main problem single mums and their daughters face in an expensive, exhausting, prejudice-filled, nuclear family-obsessed world: Mummy’s personal man-hate. So yeah, sort it out, y’hear? Otherwise your daughter will end up either a misandrist or the local bike.

This stuff makes me angry. It’s not supportive or caring; it’s mean and narrow-minded. And on a broader scale, what infuriates me is the short-sightedness of it all. Family psychologists can do incredible work. Yet to sell a book, to go on a tour, to become a world-renowned “popular” expert, you need a gimmick. But is it worth it? Crushing the individuality of children and guilt-tripping parents with double-edged “concern”? To me it feels a terrible waste.

I have known my children since the moment they drew breath, before they knew anything about male or female. Every day their horizons diminish, just a little, and so they should. My children’s beliefs need to be shaped by the world they live in. They need to know that not everything’s possible. But let’s try to stick to what’s necessary and nothing more. Imagination, identity, spirit, whatever you call these things, are neither pink nor blue. Let’s try to raise adults who are still capable of choosing their colours for themselves.

Family psychologists can do incredible work, but Biddulph's work is incredibly short-sighted. Photograph: Getty Images

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era