Gender Reveal Parties: Are You Team Penis or Team Vagina?

So apparently, hosting parties to celebrate your unborn baby’s sexual organs is a thing now.

No, really. They are called “gender reveal parties”, and the misguided parents playing host to them are under the mistaken impression that the poor suckers in their immediate social circle actually care about what lies between the loins of their developing foetus. Nowadays it is no longer enough to wait until a little human is born before peeking between its legs and piling on the gender stereotypes. No way.

For those still blissfully unaware, gender reveal parties are stylish little soirees put together by the expectant parents mid-way through the pregnancy, with the sole purpose of announcing to their friends and family what sex the baby is. 

In today’s world of rampant over-sharing, parents are rushing straight from the sonographer’s office to the party-supplies store, to kick-start the arrangements for a stylised event in pastel shades of pink and blue, so that all of their family and friends can celebrate with them. Celebrate what? Celebrate THE UNBORN BABY’S GENITALS. Am I the only one that finds this weird and a little bit creepy?

 

One of the articles I was reading suggested reasons for the growing popularity of gender-reveal parties:

“The gender reveal party trend has exploded in the last year,” confirms BabyCenter’s Community manager Rebecca Michals. Why the boom? The economic hard times may have something to do with it. “People are looking for reasons to celebrate,” Michals explains.

No, they aren’t.

The simple truth of the matter is that we are becoming a pathologically narcissistic bunch of attention-seeking whores who milk every important milestone moment for maximum viral-potential on social media. It seems that we can’t do anything without other people watching these days.

 

There are entire websites devoted to this. Swathes and swathes of parenting fora and party-planning websites and Pinterest boards urging parents to host these ridiculous parties and “create a theme”. Really? Create a theme.

“Does My Baby Have a Dick?”

How’s that for a theme?

That’s actually a great theme, because you can re-use those tasteful little penis straws you bought for your Hen’s night, create custom-made penis bunting from massive plastic dildos and while you’re at it, maybe throw in a male stripper for good measure as well. You can paint his scrotum pink or blue, and have the beaming grandmothers whip off his g-string for the reveal.

“Oooh, his strangely-hairless balls are a delightful shade of cerulean! It’s a boy!”

 

Some people even insist that their guests dress in all-pink or all-blue, to guess the unborn child’s gender. Imagine that, for a moment. A backyard full of grown adults wandering around in head-to-toe pink and blue outfits, like over-sized Teletubbies ambling about in some alternate reality where smug-parents rule and common sense came to die. Those guests who simply can’t decide between Team Pink or Team Blue – or who are mourning the death of all things sensible – can elect to wear black. Black says “I don’t give a pink-frilly fuck about all this shit. Why am I even here? And why is there NO ALCOHOL?!?”

The one and only tip in all those articles I definitely agree with is the importance of sending out your invitations early, so you can give people the maximum amount of time possible to come up with a sure-fire series of creative reasons they are sadly unable to attend. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve decided to have an elective lobotomy and unfortunately the date coincides with your ‘Baby Maybe-Vagina’ party. Can’t wait to see the photos! Go Team Pink!”

 

Seriously. I know your brain is being held hostage to the transcendental rapture of pregnancy hormones right now and you are floating through the second trimester like you are on a perpetual ecstacy high, but you need to know this:

No one cares.

No one gives a crap if your baby is swinging a dick or sporting a vulva.

No one wants to see you release a box full of coloured helium balloons.

No one wants to watch you spray each other with pastel-coloured silly string or splash each other with paint.

No one wants to wear pink and blue outfits to your party.

No one wants to hunt for Easter eggs containing gender clues.

No one wants to watch you unwrap a pink onesie with “Daddy’s Little Princess” or a blue one with “Mummy’s Little Chauvinist” on the front.

Don’t get your pet involved. Don’t plan a professional photo shoot. Don’t stage a fireworks display. Don’t get people to vote. Don’t get badges made up. Don’t send your guests spiralling into Type 2 diabetes with all that coloured frosting. Don’t ask me to walk around with a fucking moustache on a stick.

Just. Don’t.

This madness has to stop.

 

 

 

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19 thoughts on “Gender Reveal Parties: Are You Team Penis or Team Vagina?

  1. Oh, those poor ho’s. It’s because they secretly know that as soon as Little Google* or Baby Burger* springs forth into the world, everyone will completely lose interest and baby will be relegated to the homogenous throngs of funny-looking Bonds Baby contestants.

    So let them have their surprise pink or blue cake and eat it, revel in some sugar-fueled glory, and quietly un-friend them before Bonds announces its next model search.

    * All names are true. Promise. http://www.parentdish.co.uk/pregnancy-and-birth/ridiculous-baby-names-google-hashtag/

  2. I’ve only ever been to one baby gender reveal party and it was fabulous. The parents were older (40ish) and it was their second child and they put the gender reveal party on for close family and friends, but didn’t want presents and wanted to bless the party members with their happy news of having a girl (they already had a boy). Because of both of their life’s stories it was a really special moment.
    I get that we seem to celebrate every milestone in our lives but sometimes there’s a bigger story behind the celebration and at the end of the day, the only people that should be invited are those close to us who do care what is between the babies legs. I say each to their own. I would laugh though if the gender was revealed at the party, only to find when the baby is born, the gender is the opposite! I’d love to hear a couple who have had that happen to them. 😉

  3. Oh my gawd I have never heard of this – yes I am a social leper! Really? Who gives a shiz and I have to say I laughed at the expense these people have gone to make announcements! Thanks for the laugh and for linking 🙂 Emily @ Have A Laugh On Me

  4. This is a thing? Really? We found out early what genitalia our offspring would be sporting quite early with both our kids because after the “surprise” of infertility, the “surprise” at actually being pregnant after trying for 1300 years, not to mention our “surprise” when the IVF clinic handed us the bill, we were all done with surprises. Once we knew we never even thought to hide it let alone have a great “reveal” because, quite frankly, we assumed nobody really gave a shiz.

    • Oh yes. It is a thing. And not just a wacky Pinterest/American thing, I know of people in Australia that have had them. You are right. No one gives enough of a shiz to attend a party with the specific intention of finding this information out. I’m more than happy with the obligatory “It’s a BOY!” text after the kid is born, but I’m traditional like that.

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