On the
contexts and logic behind and yet the downside of the new girl-centered Legos.
Larry
Summers got in a lot of trouble a few years back for saying something not
entirely unlike this—although (I hope) significantly dumber, especially in Summers’
attempt to ground his ideas in pseudo-scientific authorities—but I can’t
deny that it has been my experience: that once you have kids, you start to
realize that there are indeed some innate biological differences between girls
and boys, some seemingly born-in, gendered interests and identities. Obviously
there are no absolutes, and my two boys are in many ways as different from each
other as they are from any young girl; but nonetheless, they’ve both had (for
example) strong interests in vehicles and superheroes from a very young age, interests
that we didn’t instill so much as simply observe and try to respond to. Something
in these subjects seems to speak to something in them, and to do so differently
(from what I can tell) than how they and other subjects speak to most of the
girls who are their peers.
If you
want evidence that’s a little less anecdotal, I direct you to the commercials
for kids’ toys, and more exactly to just how gendered so many of those
commercials (and those toys) are. They may be a bit outdated, and are perhaps
extreme examples, but I think these early 1980s commercials for G.I. Joe figures/vehicles
on the one hand and the new
Crystal Barbie on the other illustrate my point pretty thoroughly: the
dirty, loud, frenetic outdoor world of the boys playing with the Joes couldn’t
possibly contrast more with the pristine, elegant, peaceful indoor world of the
girls with Crystal Barbie. (The 1990s talking Barbie figure
who famously complained that “Math is hard” connects these trends to
Summers’ comments quite explicitly.) As we’ve moved into the 21st
century, you might expect that this kind of gendered categorization of and
marketing for toys would have evolved, but that doesn’t seem to have happened;
and one of the most famous and controversial recent toys, a new line of Legos intended
especially for girls (Lego Friends), provides ample evidence that this kind
of gendering remains at the center of much toy design and marketing.
Again,
having seen my boys and their interests and those of their peers develop, I get
it—many if not most Lego sets are of vehicles of one kind or another, and I don’t
doubt that not as many young girls as boys are thrilled at the prospect of
building a Lego steam train. Moreover, if this new line can get more girls
using Legos than would otherwise be the case, then that could in fact push back
on narratives like Summers’, on the idea that girls are somehow less interested
in or adept at mathematical or scientific skills. Yet on the other hand, even
if there are some innate differences between boys and girls, it seems to me
that one crucial purpose for children’s toys—just as for early childhood education
and other aspects of young socialization—should be to push beyond such starting
points, to challenge kids to go outside of their comfort zones or initial
identities, to help them become part of broader communities that feature many
different such identities (within as well as across genders). Not all toys need
to provide such challenges, but I would certainly argue that toys such as
Legos, which are not in and of themselves connected to particular subjects or
themes, aren’t doing what they could do best if they’re fitting into established
gender dynamics and categories.
Final (planned)
post in the series tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What
do you think? And the weekend post is still entirely open—any ideas? Within
this series or outside of it, I’ll take any and all suggestions as always!
6/14 Memory Day nominee: Harriet Beecher Stowe, whose Uncle
Tom’s Cabin would be more than sufficient to earn her a nomination, but whose long and expansive writing career
extended well beyond that most
influential work for sure.
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