Flower-giving is one of the oldest practices in the world. Flowers are traditionally considered feminine, and as a young girl, I did not give 2 hoots about them. When I was young, nothing in my room gave clues to it belonging to a 10-year old girl, except if you were to open my wardrobe (my mother chose my clothes). Perhaps being the younger sibling to an older brother influenced my choices. When I was given the chance to pick a color for my room’s walls, I picked oyster grey. I had barbie dolls but I treated them as hair salon customers (they received awful haircuts). I scoffed at the color pink, played soccer with my neighbors, and caught spiders with the boys during recess. The only flowers I bothered about were the little ixoras found in bushes by the roadsides, where my brother and I would rip them off and pull out their yellow tips for their sweet
nectar, like giant pollinating bees.
I also grew up in a fairly pragmatic household, where useful gifts (such as money) were favored over “frivolous” items. My childhood was fine, but it did leave an imprint on my life as I grew up and began to experience things as a female person
