Girly girls

Both of my girls are girly girls, as evidenced by this photo of the Younger Child wearing a tutu and thinking she is a soccer ball. Clearly she is unacquainted with the whole soccer ball phenomenon, which is also clearly my fault as a parent who hates attending sports practice.

When the Older Child was small, she loved wearing dresses and anything pink and sparkly. But she would wear a big pouffy princess dress to the park and then climb on the monkey bars and play in the dirt. When her pre-school celebrated Purim, all the little girls dressed up in their princess costumes, with big glittery crowns, and then ran around like tiny pink commandos yelling about how they, like Queen Esther, were going to save the Jews.

Back then, Rex and I were a little concerned about providing the Older Child with non-girly toys and activities. We bought her a little red pick-up truck, we made sure she had a soccer ball, which she kicked while wearing high-heeled dress-up shoes. But she wasn't much interested in those toys, she liked playing with dolls and Barbies and anything that screamed fairy princess. Rex used to blame a book called The Pink Party(a cursory Google seach yields nothing, it may be rightfully out of print). I blamed myself just a bit because it would be difficult for me to be more girly than I already am; I think that might be drag queen territory.

I played with Barbies until I was at least 12 (although by that point I was dressing a family of Barbies in rags, loading them into my brother's GI Joe jeep and playing migrant worker family; I'm not kidding). While I may be excessively girly, I am a staunch feminist and have never thought my body should approximate Barbie's. Because, ew. Liking dresses and make-up never seemed conflated with thinking a prince would whisk me away from all my troubles. I've rarely dressed for the male gaze, unless that gaze belongs to my fashion designer friend. Being a girly little girl did not turn me into a helpless woman. So I didn't worry about the older child's girlyness and indulged her, within reason, in all the nailpolish and dresses and dolls and cute shoes she wanted. As long as it wasn't about wanting to be grown-up, I didn't think it was worrisome.

It seems to have worked. The Older Child, at ten, is still on the girly end of the spectrum, but rarely wears pink and never pretends to be a princess anymore; now she pretends to be Harry Potter. She still plays with dolls, which I think is sweet, I'm so happy that she is still a child at this age and not a pre-teen. She also rides her bike and swims and adores her friends and has a book-review blog. 

I don't think little girls playing with Barbies or dressing in sparkly dresses or loving princesses has any significance about their future selves. A friend once told me that she thought her kids were just born the way they are, with the personalities they have, and it's our job to teach them manners. That is pretty much what I believe. I fiercely believe in manners, and let me tell you, if I can get the younger child to stop using that whiny voice, it will be a huge victory for manners everywhere. I also believe that as parents, beyond safety, nutrition, whatever, it's our job to provide our kids with a supportive environment. That and manners. Once you are providing your kids with a good environment that allows them to pursue their own interests, it's about 95% nature, we can't change them. I don't know why so many little girls seem to be born loving pink and princesses and thinking little boys are horrid. But I really don't think that it has much, if any, effect on their future selves. Indulge the pink fascism of of your toddler, strew a few non-girly toys around the house for diversity and stop fretting. Your girls will grow up to be strong women. They will be fine.

Comments

[B.Goedhart]

Great post, Mary. I loved it, and found it particularly interesting since I had boys, not girls. (When Son One was a toddler, we bought him a Joey doll, manufactured by Fisher Price. I still have it sitting in a box of stuff somewhere in my dining room.) He spent more time parking little cars than he did cradling Joey, but every little bit helps.

[B.Goedhart]

p.s. I think they have a copy of that Pink Party book at abebooks. If the author's name is Maryanne Carter...

p.p.s. Your daughter writes a great book blog...