Raising Boys Beyond Blue: A Mother's Struggle Against Gender Stereotypes
We work hard to fix the narrative around girls in our society. But what about boys? The real question we face today is not how to raise sons or daughters differently. Instead, we must ask why we still assign gender to basic human qualities like courage, care, ambition, and vulnerability.
The Pink and Blue Reality
On the day of Raas Purnima, I gave birth to my son A. As hospital staff wheeled me out of the operation theater, I faintly heard two families lamenting nearby. One family practically cried over why Krishna had come to my family and not theirs. The babies wrapped in tiny pink blankets helped me understand their meaning. They were taking home a girl child—unwanted and unwelcome in their eyes.
Since A's birth, my husband and I paid particular attention to colors. Growing up in 1980s Kolkata, the idea of blue for boys and pink for girls was completely unknown to us. We wanted to remain blissfully ignorant about these color codes while raising our son. We were equally careful about choosing his toys, hoping to avoid gender stereotypes.
Society Crashes Our Little World
Society soon crashed into our carefully constructed little world. People showered A with blue clothes, followed by racing cars, cricket sets, footballs, and everything else from the adrenaline-driven world of "little men." As he started walking, running, cycling, and swimming, we discovered he wanted to be a "Big Man." In school, he learned more about Transformers and Avengers than about alphabets. As parents, we found ourselves forced to explore the world of Avengers as alpha males like Iron Man, Hulk, and Thanos became his icons.
One afternoon, A returned from school deeply upset. He lamented why his father couldn't drive a car. Apparently, according to his friends, someone who can't drive is "not man enough." He felt equally confused that several of my female friends could drive perfectly well. How was that possible? He had arrived at these conclusions after discussions with his school friends.
Textbook Confusion and Real Life
His Hindi textbook added to the confusion. It taught him that mothers are great cooks who prepare sumptuous meals while fathers go to work every day. This confused him terribly because at home, he saw his mother rushing to the office and cooking only occasionally. His father, a prominent face in Kolkata's music and film scene, mostly stayed home, going out to sing at concerts or shoot films. Sometimes his father wrote stories—but to A, these activities couldn't possibly be "work." They were simply "fun."
We gradually realized the cocoon we had created for him was fraying under constant assault from institutions called school, housing society, and the virtual world. We understood we would probably never fully protect him from the projections of gender stereotypes that surround us everywhere.
Separate Worlds in Co-education
When we moved cities, we deliberately chose a co-educational school for A. To my surprise, I discovered that girls and boys sat separately in classrooms. A started receiving invitations only to boys' birthday parties. Once, I overheard a group of mothers planning to take children to watch Frozen. When I expressed interest in joining, I realized the outing was meant exclusively for girls. To them, the Disney film was just for girls. Naturally, A began thinking the same.
No matter how hard Disney attempts to erase its legacy of damsels in distress—by tweaking old storylines and portraying girls who take charge of their lives—these stereotypes continue to percolate through society. Once, A asked me why Disney mostly makes films about brave girls. Why don't they make films for brave boys too?
Media's Conflicting Messages
Working as a television executive for over a decade, I've witnessed female characters evolve from silent sufferers to women who speak up, fight back, and claim their space. This shift was absolutely necessary and long overdue. But somewhere in this correction, we seem to have forgotten about boys.
While cinema continues to glorify toxic alpha masculinity, television tells a somewhat different story. Women—without overtly challenging the patriarchal family structure—are often portrayed as confident, articulate individuals in control of their lives. During research trips, we consistently find women emerging as multitaskers and overachievers. They earn money, manage households, and carry emotional labor—yet receive little appreciation or sustained support from men.
The Domestic Divide
Advertisements, especially for detergents and washing machines, frequently show men sharing domestic responsibilities. But in reality, this remains visible only at a micro level. Outside the screen, many men struggle in a world where women can earn, fund their own needs, and run households independently. The traditional role of the male provider faces questioning every day. Many men no longer know what to provide—or how to provide it.
And yet, nobody teaches boys how to be gentle without shame. Nobody shows them how to admire strength without feeling diminished. Nobody guides them on how to grow without constantly proving their manhood.
The Crossroads of Narratives
My son A stands at the crossroads of these conflicting narratives—between what we try to show him at home and what the world insists on teaching him everywhere else. Perhaps the most important question isn't how we raise our sons or daughters differently. The crucial question is why courage, care, ambition, and vulnerability still need gender assignments at all.
The writer serves as senior creative director at Colors TV.
