The Refraction of the “Looking-Glass Self”
Themes: gender, race, coming-of-age, and the father-child formative relationship.
In grade two, my dad, who was a single father of colour, gave me a microscope kit. I remember thinking that science, and therefore microscopes, were for boys. The box cover seemed to verify this assumption with a black and white picture of a Caucasian boy holding what I would soon be holding in my own hands. Assigned female at birth, I got a thrill out of knowing I owned a microscope. I looked the microscope over. It was a curious thing with several parts, sticking out here and there. I excitedly pulled out the smooth, army green, enameled steel microscope as the styrofoam crackled and broke apart around it. With a click, I began turning the black focusing knobs back and forth, even though I still had not unpacked the slides of things to zoom in on. At the end of the phallic body tube, three objective lenses projected towards the stage that would help illuminate what I could not see with the naked eye. The yonic base of the microscope reminded me of a model stand, with the rest of the microscope taking the shape of a starship about to blast off into space. I pulled back on the curved arm and peered into the hole of the eyepiece lens. Because I had not slipped a slide under the staging arms yet, I saw the mirror and light bulb staring back at me instead. I held up the microscope and twirled it around, noting a small rectangular metal label with the company name “Tasco,” printed on it. The microscope was cool, hard, robust, and unbreakable - traits I considered masculine, traits I considered possessing myself.
