And You and Me Are…

My mother made the dolls by hand. She lovingly stuffed their life-sized bodies, making small neat stitches in their elbow and knee joints to make them seem articulated. She chose wigs and painted their small faces on the smooth nylon surface of their skin. Never very interested in baby dolls, I was careless with such a treasure and my doll was mostly neglected, her name lost to history, the color of her hair and her features a hazy memory. Jim was another story.

My younger brother’s doll, Jim, was loved with a long-lasting, pure-hearted devotion.   Jim never left my brother’s side, forever riding on the front of his Big Wheel and maintaining a place of pride on his bed well into adolescence. Jim was scarred by love, he endured black wig repairs, sponge baths and multiple stitches where his soft skin split and threatened to spill his stuffing. He inherited tattoos and earrings when my brother was in middle school. My brother tells me that Jim’s current whereabouts are unknown, but they stayed together until he left home. Jim was beloved.

Making dolls for my two younger brothers was something my mother did with specific intention. Not overtly political, my mother was nonetheless deeply moved by social or racial inequality and committed to an earth mother progressive parenting style that would make any modern-day hipster proud   — breastfeeding well over a year, cloth diapers, homemade bread, weekly visits to the library and co-op. But the dolls were motivated by a musical.

Late in the summer after my parents married, they worked as counsellors at a summer camp where they co-directed a production of Free To Be … You and Me,  “a project of the  Ms. Foundation for Women, a  record album  and illustrated book first released in November 1972 featuring songs and stories sung or told by celebrities of the day (credited as “Marlo Thomas  and Friends”) including Alan Alda, Rosey Grier, Cicely Tyson, Carol Channing, Michael Jackson, and Diana Ross. An  ABC Afterschool Special  using poetry, songs, and sketches, followed two years later in March 1974. The basic concept was to encourage post-1960s gender neutrality, saluting values such as individuality, tolerance, and comfort with one’s identity. A major thematic message is that anyone-whether a boy or a girl-can achieve anything” (taken from Wikipedia).

Legend has it that I was conceived during that summer. My parents went on to direct the show two more times during my childhood and the cassette tape was in constant rotation in our car and house. My first introduction to feminism, Free to Be … You and Me taught me that parents were people, it was alright to cry, I didn’t have to be pretty when I grew up and that nobody likes housework (lessons that have stuck with me through all kinds of personal and spiritual transitions). Later, as a teenager, I found the cassette abandoned in a box and I used to stick it in my Sony Walkman and go for long walks in the woods behind my house when I was feeling blue.

Jim and his compatriots were inspired by “William Wants a Doll,” a song about a boy who wants a doll to play with and is teased by his friends, cousin and brothers and nervously steered towards baseballs by his mother and father father until his wise grandmother explains that “William wants a doll, so when he has a baby some day, he’ll know how to dress it, put diapers on double, and gently caress it to bring up a bubble. And care for his baby, as every good father should learn to do.”

I’ve been thinking about William and Jim lately. Wondering about my own children and the messages I send them about gender. As progressive as our world seems to get, there is no question that children are still steered towards a pink or primary colored world, as an adorable rant from  a little girl named  Riley  recently explained. When it was posted on Jezebel, several of the commenters were suspicious of Riley’s rant saying that it sounded rehearsed and coached by her off-camera father. Other commenters responded that it didn’t matter if it was coached because the father was teaching his daughter correct principles about gender, not unlike the propaganda (which I love and agree with, but still see as such) of Free to be… You and Me.  For my part, I thought the rant was both a product of her own charisma and personality and guidance from her parents. Encouraging or discouraging gender normative behavior seems to be a constant  endeavor, a matter of parents consciously (or unconsciously) nudging their children in decided directions. From the walls of pink at the toy store or guitar licks of extreme marketing campaigns for boy toys to the examples we set and things we say, we have regular opportunities to guide our children towards one performance or another.

But what happens when parents avoid steering and just try to keep the options open? I’ve bought all three of my children dolls, my boy and my oldest daughter have been indifferent, but my youngest daughter loves them (although her heart really belongs to a soft floppy eared bunny from Build-a-Bear named Steve who wears a hot pink ball gown). All three of the children love Lego (no pink sets necessary), computer games and Doctor Who. No one seems to care much for cars, action figures or Barbies. As Free to Be … You and Me suggested, we all hate housework, but my youngest seems to get a lot of pleasure in ordering things. Her cleaning is always done with more precision and care, it just seems to be her personality.

The other day, my boy, almost 10, decided he wanted some scrambled eggs. He began pouring over a Jamie Oliver cookbook, methodically passing over each page. When he found scrambled eggs, he read the recipe over and over, committing it to memory before calling me in to the kitchen. We made the eggs together, but I let him do most of the work. He was thrilled by the danger of turning on the gas burner of the stove and carefully cracking the eggs. Proud of the outcome, he announced that he wants to be a chef when he grows up.

He picked out several recipes he wanted to try and helped me make a menu for the following week and we cooked together every night. It was a week of triumphs and firsts — we wowed the rest of the family with Spanish-style steak and pork cooked with mushrooms and rosemary, my boy declared wilted spinach “delicious” and requested it a second night in a row. It was good to see him happy. This school year has been tough, he moved from the cozy warmth of primary school to the harsh, bewildering environment of middle school. He broods for days and then asks me why everyone is calling him “gay,” a “perv” or other terrible names meant to put him at the bottom of a viciously constructed pecking order. We talk about how “gay” is meant to hurt his feelings, but there’s nothing wrong with being gay and it’s hurtful to use that word to mean something bad. I mostly empathize and tell him he’s strong enough to get through this time, I don’t want to tell my tender-hearted boy to toughen up, to turn into someone he’s not to fit in.

He talks to me non-stop when we cook.  We talk about cooking methods, recipes we want to try, incidents at school and his hopes for the future.

“Do you really think I can be a chef when I grow up?” he asked one night.

“Of course you can! As long as you cook for me and your dad sometimes.”

“When I grow up and get married, if I get married …”

“Do you think you’ll want to get married?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if anyone will want to marry me, if everyone in middle school is right,” he said.

“We know that kids in middle school don’t always know what they are talking about. You are kind and smart and handsome, you’ll be able to get married.”

“When I get married, I’d like to cook for my wife. It’s basically the opposite of what I grew up with because you usually cook, but I want to do the cooking.”

“Well,   I enjoy cooking more than your dad, but I think that sounds like a good idea, your wife will probably like that.”

I don’t know if my son will be a chef when he grows up. I don’t know if he will get married or want to be with women. (It seems that way now, but who knows?) I do know that he doesn’t see cooking as a gendered activity or something that he would only want to do outside of the home. In the fraught complicated world of gender politics, that might be a small victory, but I’m proud nonetheless. I’m happy that his world is slightly larger and more open and I hope that he and my daughters will one day be comfortable in their own skin knowing that they are free to be anything they want to be.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_26FOHoaC78&feature=related