Disclaimer: Some wording in this post reflects the attitudes and language of its time, and while I’m sharing my personal experiences, I want to make it clear that these words do not align with modern values. I acknowledge the harm certain language can cause, and it is shared here solely for reflection and understanding within its historical context.
My wife and I took our 5-year-old son to see Lightyear today. It was our first time celebrating Juneteenth as a federal holiday, and who better to spend it with than my wife and son? My son has been a Buzz Lightyear fan since he was 3. He had the costume, the toys, the posters, the backpack—you name it, he most likely owned it at some point.
The AMC movie theater was almost empty, so we let our son pick where he wanted to sit. I’ve watched the Toy Story franchise at home countless times with my son, and I must admit, I was kind of excited to see one in an actual theater with him.
Everything was going smoothly until the character Hawthorne tells Buzz that she got engaged to a woman named Kiko while he was in space.
Here’s the conversation that followed:
Moochie: What’s “engaged” mean?
Me: It’s when a man asks a woman to be his wife.
Moochie: Oh, I thought Commander [sic] Heart Torn was a girl?
Me: She is. And her name is Hawthorne.
Moochie: So the commander is a girl, and she’s gonna marry a girl?
Me: (uneasy) Yeah, it looks like that’s what’s happening.
At this point, I knew my son wasn’t going to let this go—and I was right. My 5-year-old doesn’t know the meaning of “heterosexual,” but now I was going to have to explain what “homosexual” means. I thought the conversation couldn’t get any more awkward, but I was wrong. In the next time-dilation montage, Commander Hawthorne and Kiko are holding a baby. If “liar liar pants on fire” were a look, Moochie was giving it to me.
Moochie: Is that their baby?
Me: (LONG PAUSE) I believe so.
Moochie: (PUZZLED) Does one of those girls have chicken nuggets and a penis?
I laughed out loud because I knew exactly why he asked this question. As soon as he started noticing the differences between his body and his mother’s, I began teaching him basic human anatomy—boys have penises, and girls have vaginas.
My daughter is three years younger than Moochie, so I’ve already had the “where do babies come from?” talk with him. I’ve frequently explained to him, mostly during bath time, that he and I are males. Males have penises and testicles. I showed him on his body where his penis and testicles were. The word “testicles” made him giggle because he couldn’t pronounce it properly, so we decided to use “chicken nuggets” as a substitute.
I also explained that his mother is a female and that females have vaginas. He had questions, and I answered them as best I could.
Me: No, girls don’t have chicken nuggets.
To conceive a baby, a man places his penis inside a woman’s vagina. The chicken nuggets produce sperm, which fertilizes an egg inside her body.
Moochie: Do eggs have shells?
Me: (Laughs) No, eggs don’t have shells.
Basic anatomy is one thing, but explaining complex concepts like sexuality to a 5-year-old is a different ballgame.
When I was about 10 years old, I had this thing for Liberace. Everything about him was fly to me—the fur coats, the diamond rings, the luxury cars. He was like everyone I looked up to rolled into one person. (The numbers man, Pimps, and the Drug Dealers). I distinctly remember telling my uncle that I wanted to be the next Liberace, and him responding, “Trust me, you don’t want those kinds of problems. You know that guy’s a f****t, right?”
First off, no, I didn’t know Liberace was gay. Secondly, what the hell is a “f****t”? I had to run down to the library on Bedford and Franklin Avenue and look the word up.
“F****t” – A bundle of twigs, sticks, or branches bound together.
I couldn’t understand the insult from that definition, so I eventually had no choice but to ask one of the librarians. I chose the newest hire because all the others knew my grandmother. I finally caught her in a secluded part of the building and explained what my uncle had said and my confusion over the definition. She smiled and said plainly that “f****t” is a derogatory term for gay men. She didn’t judge, and I didn’t feel judged. I remember letting out a long “Ohhh!” and then having to look up the word “gay.”
My point is, if I didn’t know these things at 10 years old, how is my 5-year-old supposed to understand them?
When I was in my 40s, I told my younger brother this story, and he said, “I knew Liberace was gay before I knew what gay was.”
So be honest with me. Am I the old guy with outdated worldviews, or is Disney and big media pushing some kind of early sexuality agenda?