I should have known with all of the godless marketing that exists Rachael would inevitably end up face-to-face with the “pretty” dolls. Barbies all lined up in a row, smiling perfectly from their bright pink boxes; Snow White, Cinderella, Princess Jasmine in a Charlie’s Angels-like trio with smiley faces printed on toddler-sized dress up clothes; skanky Bratz in their gangsta bitch glam snaring from the top of a mini-makeup kit. Rachael moved back and forth in a sideways pace from one end of the toy isle to the other.
“Ooooohhh Mommy! Day are soooo pwetty.”
I used to hate Barbie, and vowed to never buy her if I had a little girl. I believed she gave girls an unrealistic picture and narrow definition of what beauty was. In Barbie’s world, if you weren’t thin, blonde, and had colossal, plastic boobs, then you were merely a Skipper or a Kit follow up character. This idea of what constitutes gorgeous might be the standard in L.A., but I wanted my girl to have a scope of beauty that included curves, shades of dark hair, ethnicity, non-button noses, and a range of boob sizes, real boobs, that is.
Just when I thought Barbie was the most disastrous thing to hit the burgeoning self-esteem of young girls along came Bratz. I just about shit the first time I went through the toy isle as a pregnant woman and came across these things. Bratz make Barbie look like wholesome fun. I know they tried to market them as a punk-like alternative to Barbie, but as a punk I can proudly say that I would never buy my daughter a doll that conveyed that image. Instead of Barbie’s dream house, the Bratz hang out on a street corner complete with seedy, spray-painted, brick wall and a standing street light. Perhaps the message to girls is that if you don’t end up a trophy bride in a dream house like Barbie, you can sell your ass to a john or hustle drugs on the street corner like the Bratz. What the fuck!
One would think that after browsing through Barbies and skidding past Bratz, one would be able to take refuge in the sweet world of the Disney princesses, but not I. Unfortunately, having a Cultural Studies and media background doesn’t allow a person like me to just go with the flow and accept elements of popular culture for face value. I have to scrutinize and keep a check on the big picture, and princesses are not part of my plan.
I have never really accepted the whole Cinderella story even when I was a girl. My mother would tell the story about Cindy getting her prince then forgiving her stepmother and stepsisters, and something in my head would wonder why the hell she did. Here was a girl who was mentally abused by her stepfamily, then is just supposed to forgive them and live this charmed life. By the time I was 11, I had created an alternative ending where Cinderella ended up suing her stepmother for back wages, taking an extended engagement with the prince just to make sure she wasn’t marrying the first guy who asked her out, started her own cleaning solutions business, and worked with the Fairy Godmother to help other girls in domestically abusive situations.
As for Snow White and Princess Jasmine, well, I feel relatively uneasy having pretty cartoons telling my little girl that all of her problems will be solved if the right guy comes along, and that she is completely helpless until the moment the doors open revealing Mr. Handsome. Also, most GQ-looking guys that I knew, the ones who most resembled Prince Charming, were the dating raping jocks that were the kind of egotistical dicks you’d never even want your worst enemy to get involved with let alone your own daughter.
I let Rachael have her oogling moment in the toy isle, while I squirmed and wondered what I could offer as an alternative. She is now into baby dolls, which is cool. Perhaps the Groovy Girls will be the route I go for satisfying my little one’s hunger for pretty dollies. They seem wholesome, while at the same time offering an array of outfits that Rachael can dress them up in and strip off two minutes later in some sort of toddler runway show. The Groovy Girls come in a variety of colors, hair shades, ethnicities, and they have the traditional stuffed bodies rather than molded plastic, “here’s what a real girl’s figure should look like” thing going on.
Maybe I’m over-thinking this whole doll situation a bit too much, but I’d rather be a concerned mom who nurtures her daughter’s self-esteem from the beginning then one who lets her play with Barbies, Bratz, and the Princesses and ends up having to nurse her through an eating disorder at age 13. All I have to say to Corporate America is that you can take your flawless, L.A. beauties, your glammy street skanks, and your co-dependent royalty and shove them straight up you ass. My little girl deserves better.
9 comments:
If she'll go for it, Dora can be a good placebo (at least until she's done with preschool stuff). Here's a dark-haired, bilingual, normal-shaped girl -- almost guaranteed not to warp her body image at a young age. I also recently found Woodkins, old-fashioned dress-up dolls with normal kid bodies.
Just wait until your little darling gets out of toddler sizes.
I had to go shopping for jeans for DD yesterday. Clothes her size don't have Bratz or Barbie on them, they just all look like the hookerwear Bratz and Barbie wear. I spent 3 hours looking for jeans without a low rise, sequins and embroidery, or words on them. Forget buying her a shirt off the rack right now...they don't cover her midriff and most have suggestive sayings on them. I wound up buying her Levis in the boys' department and will most likely have to take up the waist.
Taking a deep breath now. Where does it end?
I've said it once in response to your blogs and I'll most likely say it a thousand times more. Amen!
I don't think you're overthinking the doll situation too much. I wish more parents were concerned about what conditioning we're slathering today's youth in. I was raised on the "Happily Ever After" stories, got a new barbie every week, and yearned for Eric from "The Little Mermaid" to sweep me away. I somehow was able to escape that vapid and absurd perception of life as an adult.
Not only do I abhor the idea of purchasing a barbie for my future offspring, but in my wacky liberal mind I've always thought it would be neat to give my not-yet-existent daughter a copy of "The Vagina Monologues" as part of the big "sex talk."
I'm not one who particularly cherishes musical theater, however, there's a stellar musical called, "Into the Woods" by Stephen Sondheim. It combines all the traditional fairy tales we grew up with in a very real and gritty way into one plot. Definitely worth adding to a Netflix queue.
I still have nightmares from working in the Barbie aisle at Toys R Us during one Christmas season long, long ago. I've got two boys so my inner parenting dilemnas have a lot to do with violent video games and respect for life and all that stuff. Being a mom is tough work indeed.
Anyhow, I thought you might enjoy my post from today. I've found new ways to play with Barbie.
I used to feel the same way about Barbie until I saw Barbie with her dog Tanner! Actually, I still could care less about Barbie. It's all about Tanner! Tanner is Barbie's dog who eats dog biscuits, push down on Tanner's tail and Tanner ejects the biscuits a la poop! Barbie then has the nasty job of collecting the (magnetic)biscuits/poop with a scooper and disposing of them into the doggie waste can. Don't believe me? Check them out in action here. Hope my attempt at linking works out...
I don't think you're over thinking it. I confronted the same dilemma with my neice. The one gift she wanted in the world was a Bratz doll and no amount of diversion would convince her that another toy would be better. She's also completely OBSESSED with the Disney princess line. I'll try to direct our playtime together to vanquishing conquests or rambunctious adventure, but she wants to convince imaginary knights to marry us.
It's really about balance. My daughter is the "typical" girly-girl, all about the dolls and pink and glitter and sparkles. But she also made mud pies when she was little, she plays soccer (quite vigorously; she's not above throwing elbows), she tells me every day how smart she is (and she really is), and she certainly isn't a "follower." She has Barbies (the first given to her by a relative; it was like a floodgate opened and TONS of people gave/give her Barbies), she has Disney Princesses, and she has Groovy Girls. I must say, she consistently gravitates toward the GGs, but she does play with the others as well. I draw the line at Bratz and she knows it.
I don't expect her to develop self-esteem in a vacuum. Part of my job is to teach her how awesome she is, in every single way. Part of my job is to teach her to be a discerning consumer, so we talk about marketing and commercials when we're at the store (yes, at six years of age she knows that the sugary cereals are put at her eye level because the companies want her to ask for them.)
I fully expect her to be a feminist, just like me, and her love of all things Barbie and Disney won't hamper that in any way because I won't let them.
My daughter digs Dora but they've got Barbie-esque Dora toys out there. Dora as a talking princess, Dora's dreamhouse, etc.
While trying to choose a halloween costume for her last week, my husband and I were disturbed at the fact that it's actually difficult to find a gir's costume that isn't a princess, butterfly or ladybug. I was happy to discover that, when given a choice, my daughter was more interested in the boy's football player costume. I credit that to all the time she spends sitting on her Dad's lap yelling "feetsball!" while he watches the Seahawks on Sundays.
Oh, I forgot to give Lee credit! Lee was the one who first turned me on to Tanner.
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