Free To Be Me, In Whatever Color I Choose

Three years ago I was completely befuddled by the gender assigned toy choices offered at McDonald's. Sent to buy food for a classroom celebration I had no idea that beyond choosing nuggets or burgers, I also had to assign to them gender specific, and hopefully correct, toys. I got it all wrong. The Gap makes it so much easier. No confusion at all when I walk in, boys clothing on the right, girls on the left, and please don't cross to the wrong side, simply not tolerated. Even my old workhorse L.L. Bean offers clear direction when shopping; Mary's flannel lined jeans are labeled boys because her flannel is primary colored, the girl's version being lined with a soon to fade pastel plaid. Pass.

McDonald's has recently agreed, at the urging of a determined teenager, that there need not be a distinction of boy toy or girl toy. Wonderful news! Now, while feeding our children processed and unhealthy food we need not force feed them gender stereotypes; who wouldn't see that as a victory? The comments associated with the article say otherwise. Ranging from " I'm gonna puke" to "This is a bunch of crap", the general consensus is that this type of effort to invoke change was unnecessary and a complete waste of time when far more pressing issues, say poverty and lack of freedoms, should be the focus. A curious issue to raise when the matter at hand is offering a child the freedom to choose the toy that they like best, without regard to what McDonald's has deemed acceptable, based on their sex.

For my part I applaud anyone who takes a stand and, beyond complaining (which is what I did when faced with this insanity), actually does something to make change happen. It seems there are those who feel that asking a mega corporation to stop pushing gender stereotypes onto our children is an inconsequential use of time, or that by not qualifying toys based on sex we are somehow creating confusion in our children. Because it is certain, if we don't level with them now, if we are not clear in directing girls to play with Barbies and boys to play with trucks (or the non toy video game level equivalent of which I know absolutely nothing about) then our children will grow up not knowing which way to turn when they walk into the Gap. If we don't tell them, how will they know?

Don't Dress Your Cat in an Apron

Although I must tell you his favorite toy
Is a little play stove with pans and with pots,
Which he really must like, 'cause he plays with it lots,
So perhaps he's a girl -- which kind of makes sense,
Since he can't throw a ball and he can't climb a fence,
But neither can dad -- and I know he's a man,
And mom is a woman and she drives a van.
Maybe the problem is in trying to tell
Just what someone is by what she does well?
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/marlo-thomas/my-dog-is-a-plumber-lyrics/#J4G2F561lJSqKFMK.99

My dog is a plumber. He must be a boy,
Although I must tell you his favorite toy
Is a little play stove with pans and with pots,
Which he really must like, 'cause he plays with it lots,
So perhaps he's a girl -- which kind of makes sense,
Since he can't throw a ball and he can't climb a fence,
But neither can dad -- and I know he's a man,
And mom is a woman and she drives a van.
Maybe the problem is in trying to tell
Just what someone is by what she does well?
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/marlo-thomas/my-dog-is-a-plumber-lyrics/#J4G2F561lJSqKFMK.99

My dog is a plumber. He must be a boy,
Although I must tell you his favorite toy
Is a little play stove with pans and with pots,
Which he really must like, 'cause he plays with it lots,
So perhaps he's a girl -- which kind of makes sense,
Since he can't throw a ball and he can't climb a fence,
But neither can dad -- and I know he's a man,
And mom is a woman and she drives a van.
Maybe the problem is in trying to tell
Just what someone is by what she does well?
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/marlo-thomas/my-dog-is-a-plumber-lyrics/#J4G2F561lJSqKFMK.99

Don't dress your cat in an apron
Just 'cause he's learning to bake.
Don't put your horse in a nightgown
Just 'cause he can't stay awake.
Don't dress your snake in a muu-muu
Just 'cause he's off on a cruise.
Don't dress your whale in galoshes
If she really prefers overshoes.
A person should wear what he wants to
And not just what other folks say.
A person should do what he likes to -
A person's a person that way.

-Dan Greenburg
 

Don't Dress Your Cat in an Apron, from the still wonderful Free to Be You and Me, which I love now as much as I did when it first came out in 1974. Created by Marlo Thomas who was shocked to find that books for children reinforced stereotypes of what boys and girls were supposed to be, she set out to put together a book that taught children they could be whatever they wanted. Sadly those pink and blue lessons still dominate much of what is published for children today, Free to Be You and Me still necessary, and enjoyed, after all these years.

The Story of a Pink and Blue Striped Cap

This post was inspired by the memoir Raising My Rainbow by Lori Duron as she shares her journey raising a gender creative son. Join From Left to Write on September 5 as we discuss Raising My Rainbow.  As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes. The book is available for purchase here.

This is my first post for From Left to Write, an online book club where our bloggers/members create a virtual discussion of a book and how it relates to their lives and in turn, everyone’s lives.

When our twins were born I saw not two girls but two blobs of healthy baby: twenty toes, four blue eyes, minimal hair, squishy faces and good Apgar scores. Also, I had no idea which was which. My husband knew although I think he had a better view of the "A" and "B" tags that the nurse had stuck to their tiny caps, their matching tiny pink caps.

"Could you put one of them in a blue cap please, it would be easier", was my exhausted plea to the nurse on day 2, feeling like a complete failure as a mother for having no idea which child was A and which was B without finding my glasses and studying the caps.

"You want me to put a blue cap on your daughter?", with a look of bewilderment comparable to the one on Jack's face when the doctor heard not one but two heartbeats.

"I do, please".

She scurried away and came back with a much better solution, a blue and pink striped cap. Who this was originally intended for we have no idea. I can only imagine the level of confusion for the poor mother who was not supplied the cheat sheet version of infant gender assignment; what child was deemed suitable for a gender confused baby cap?

Mine, but only at my request.

My mother in law quickly found her way to Baby Gap to find something more suitable. She was, I assume, unnerved by seeing her beautiful granddaughter wearing the ambiguous striped cap. The next day one girl was wearing a mint green number, the other lavender. Sanity restored, my only challenge being to remember who was in what color and to pray that no one ever switched the caps without me knowing.

When the girls were born I believed that there were certain things we all, as parents, had evolved into accepting. McDonald's food was unhealthy and generally bad, ditto television and all processed food. Also, the overall atmosphere of force feeding gender stereotypes? Very bad. Didn't we all believe that teaching our daughters about knights in shining armor and glass slippers was bad practice? Apparently not.

It is difficult to buy a child's toothbrush without making a gender specific proclamation. There we are at Target, trapped for hours in the dental aisle, trying desperately to agree on a toothbrush multi-pack that keeps everyone happy.  God bless Snoopy. His tooth brush collection, available in red, yellow and green, appeals to all and says little about the gender of the brush'er.

My children wear puffy coats from L.L. Bean every winter. They are warm, simple, last forever (or long enough to hand down between two very different sized twins) and are available in a vast array of colors. The boys' coat comes in bright orange, night sky and river moss. For girls we have citron, orchid and true blue, a turquoise color. It's the same coat, the exact same coat, and rather than list all the colors together, it is sorted into two distinct groups which I, as a mother appreciate, as I sometimes have trouble knowing just what colors are appropriate for my girls. Thankfully there are so many people willing to help me find my way. Pity my poor child who prefers primary colors and is forced to buy her winter coat in the boy section each year.

For all the effort made to categorize children, to assign to them our own stereotypes and confine them to our rigid, and really outdated, criteria of pink and blue, I remain confused. My children are not gender creative, they are gender non-compliant. Mary, who climbs every tree she sees and lives her life covered in scrapes and bruises, prefers to dress in glitter sparkled tutus.  Kate, who recoils in horror at the idea of bedazzled clothing, is perfectly content to spend the day inside with Kit, her doll, having tea parties and telling stories.

Who wouldn't be confused?

Many thanks to the employees of the Gap who have tried, repeatedly to direct me to the correct side of the store. My own ignorance once again stepping in first as I continue to miss the obvious, the screaming pink and purple displays to my left as I walk in and turn right, looking for jeans for my daughters that do not cling to their tiny bodies as if wrapped in a neon colored fire hose.

Also thanks to McDonald's which, on the one trip I made to pick up lunch for a classroom party, almost stumped me with the gender specific Happy Meal question. Thank goodness for the counter help who were able to direct me to the appropriate lunch option, and apologies to the 10 boys in the class forced to suffer the indignity of eating a girl Happy Meal. Thanks also to the girl in kindergarten who told Mary that if she was a girl she needed to wear pink to school every day and to Kate's first grade classmate who told me that she was almost positive that Kate's blue tennis shoes were for boys. Where would we be without the kind direction of these people?

When the girls were younger a woman at the park, the mother of a boy and a girl, told me she thought I was lucky because I would never have to separate their toys.

"I'm sorry?"
"Well I just mean you'll never have that day when you have to tell your son that he can't play with your daughter's toys, you know, because they are girl toys".
"Oh right, I hadn't thought of that. Lucky me!"

Clearly I have been very confused. Perhaps we all are. 

Does That Come in any Other Color?

It happened again this weekend, "will the boys be bowling today?". At a birthday party for a six year old girl my children were erroneously identified, yet again, as boys. Happens all the time, really, and it doesn't bother me at all, nor does it seem to affect the emotional growth of my two girls who, dressed in navy corduroys and sweaters, were off and hurling bowling balls at each other before any of us had a chance to respond.

We hear it more frequently in the winter, when they are often buried beneath coats and hats, which is the one thing that does bother me as I suspect I have sniffed out the real reason for the incorrect gender identification: they have blue coats. The horror. Not only are they blue but they reverse to green, and not a light and frothy green, but a good dark hunter green, quite attractive with the navy opposite side. But, I have found, decidedly masculine, as I should have known, I bought them in the boys section. To be fair, I had no choice, at least not in the girls department, the only offering being a pink coat that reversed to purple. Boys coats came in red and orange and blue and green, a virtual rainbow compared to the lone option deemed appropriate for girls.

You find it in every single store, one side screams at you in pink and fuchsia and all shades of violet, the other subtly speaks in blues and greens and reds. When they were quite young, still sleeping away the afternoon in their blue stroller, I pushed them into the Baby Gap in need of socks, small white crew socks that I knew I could find in the gender neutral section near the cash wrap. Baby Gap being one of the very worst offenders in the color coded wall segregation, it is not a store I frequent, but they do make darn fine socks. In the far corner I spied a sale rack and pushed the double wide over to see what was available.

Androgynous Looking Sales Clerk: Can I help you find something?
Me: Just looking thank you.

She hovered.

ALSC: Are they twins? (long pause, some inspection) Girls?
Me: Twin girls, yes.

Clearly she was helped by the large flower on the front of their matching red fleece jackets, but still thrown, they were red piped in blue.

ALSC: You know this is the boys section, right?
Me: Yes, thank you.

A pair, two pairs of blue and white seersucker pants, in the right size, I grabbed them, spring was just a few months away.

ALSC: Oh, those? Wouldn't you like to check the girls rack? We have plenty of items on sale there, so many things that would be just perfect for them.

At this point she actually reached for my seersucker pants, so horrified that I would consider putting them on my daughters, small people she did not know at all and in fact could barely identify as girls, but still thought she knew best what would be perfect for them. Something I imagine to be part of a Baby Gap sales clerk final exam, which she really nailed: what color is best suited for baby girls? Pink. Passed, to the sales floor with you!

Me: Really? No thank you, we'll take these.
ALSC: You know we had those in pink, maybe they are still here, let me check.

She took off for the color appropriate wall, I ran for the door.

To be clear, and so that I am not thought of as a horrible mother who denies her daughters all that is available to them in the world, they own pink clothing. More of it in the summer, owed to my personal Lilly Pulitzer driven ideology that pink is a summer color, but yes, there are pink t-shirts in the drawer, and also blue and green and yellow. They are offered a choice in clothing, as they are in many aspects of their five year old life.

If it's true, if girls can really be anything they want when they grow up, that Hillary Clinton might one day be President, or Sarah Palin, why is it that we teach our daughters that they must be wearing pink when they take the oath of office?