I’d hate my boys to see any minority group as weird – but I didn’t account for the twin factor
When my twin boys were born, four years ago, I took enormous pains to stock their bedroom with a wide range of books, and when I say “took enormous pains”, I mean “ordered them online from my phone while lying in bed”. (Do you think I left the house to go shopping? Did you miss the part when I said I had twins?)
We are in the jumpy, high water days of identity politics, constantly told how important representation is in the stories we tell ourselves. I agree with all that. Hell, I wrote a book about it, in which I ranted about modern Hollywood movies, the ones where the white male heterosexual is still seen as the baseline norm. No way would my boys grow up thinking like that, I told myself, smugly, as I ordered brilliant books like Nadia Shireen’s Billy And The Beast and Andrea Beaty’s Ada Twist, Scientist. My children would never see any minority group as weird. But there was one thing I had overlooked, and that is what I shall call “the twin problem”.
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