This is my feminist rant

Ok, look. I don't usually go all femi-nazi, but damn.
Let's be clear: I'm a feminist. Of the women-are-equal-which-means-equal-rights-and-responsibilities-and-yes-that-goes-for-everyone-regardless-of-race-creed-orientation-et-fucking-cetera school of thought

But seriously. I really, really, really thought we were farther along than this.
Really, I did.

My car is dead. She needs a new battery and I just haven't gotten around to it because it's pretty weather and I have a motorcycle.
So I went out today, to the doctor's, and to the coffeeshop to work on my paper. I sat outside, because it was pretty, and I could keep an eye on my bike parked in the front lot.

Out come a young woman and her adorable little girl, and the drink some fruity concoction that was probably disgustingy healthy together, and they play "I Spy". It was really cute.
The first thing that the little girl spies is black.
Go up and click the link, if you haven't already.
The black thing she spied was my bike.
I smiled, listening shamelessly. Little girl was about 4? 5? (I suck at kid ages, since I don't have any), and turned happily to her mother. "I want a motorcycle when I get big!"
I grinned, I couldn't help it. How absolutely awesome.

Then I heard mom's response.
"Girls don't ride motorcycles, baby."

What? Huh? Seriously? Like, really?
I couldn't stay still. I just couldn't. I turned around and smiled and pretended I hadn't heard mom.
"I'm glad you like the motorcycle, sweetie, that's my motorcycle."

Yes, Virginia, girls really can have whatever-in-bloody-hell they want.