One of my friends sent me a link to a fashion blog that commented on this article. She wanted to know my opinion. My opinion is multi-faceted and I'm not sure if it's worth that much. But I do want to open up this interesting discussion. I mean, all the other blogs are talking about it;)
First, the disclaimer that I do not have sons. Just daughters. Who do not own a single Barbie. Girls who run fast and hike and get muddy and one who was quite the Karate Kid for awhile. She had the meanest 5-year-old Tiger Eyes ever. She also begs me to buy glitter nail polish every time we are at Target and thinks I should buy garments for myself with red sequins on them. I don't know if my feelings would change if I assumed motherly responsibility for a little boy. I think the argument would still seem valid that a little girl could be pictured doing any number of boyish things and there might even be praise for the photo shoot.
Maybe its because I am a mother of girls, and society these days accepts gender-bending in girls more than it does in boys, but I say we all have a bit of yin with our yang. Or vice versa. Males and females have both testosterone and progesterone coursing through their bodies.
How many boys have at one time tried painted nails? Nailpolish on boys is not a new media item. In the 1944 film National Velvet, very boyish Donald gets his toenails painted by big sister Edwina. Not a central plot line - an aside. The kid also catches ants and wears them in a bottle around his neck.
My own husband confesses that he's glad we have no sons. He is afraid he would not be as "whatever you want to be when you grow up you can be (except a stripper)" as he is with the girls. He says that even though he would like to be supportive if his son wanted to be a ballet dancer, he would really not want his son to be a ballet dancer. Even if ballet dancers really are very strong and athletic. They wear those tights. My husband knows things about growing up as a boy that I do not.
The deeper issue involves the rigid confines of acceptable masculine behavior. Boys are under lots of pressure to be just the right kind of male. No tears, lots of toughness, no pink. I can supply you with all manner of feminist critiques and theories about the oppressiveness of masculine ideals on boys and trying to fit people into either/or binaries. Why is it so important for our children to be the perfect girl or boy?
None of this addresses the plight of individuals who really do not fit into M or F categories. If you want to explore this with your heart, I recommend Middlesex by G. Eugenides. Don't read it if you find this discussion at all squirmy.
I fully expect disagreement with what I am about to say next: I think we get too uptight about some things and not uptight enough about others. Is cross-dressing worse than buying clothing from companies that make huge profit margins using questionable labor practices? (ahem, JCrew, company of disputed ad). Is teaching our kids wanton materialism just fine? The issue of nailpolish on boys is much ado about nothing. The advertising campaign is the actual sticking point: but haven't we crossed that line a long time ago? Don't we accept all kinds of crazy depictions in order to sell something? Why is this one getting us so up in arms?
My guess is, if we Rozelles happened to have a surprise baby boy join the four of us, with 2 big sisters, he might end up with nailpolish on at least once in his life. I wouldn't send him to masculinity camp (apparently they have these in Malaysia), nor would I use him as a poster child for "liberal propaganda." I would, however, probably tell the kids they'd better not drip polish on my dining room table or hardwood floors.
As for supporting JCrew - I don't. I'm long past buying anything at JCrew. $180 jeans?! That's not what I call affordable fashion.
I have tons of boys. My eldest had his nails painted by an Aunt (who shared the loving gaze of the mother in this ad) one afternoon. We laughed because she hid it from us and my son loved it. They were in an adjoining room. My boys are all boy. They are rumble tumble, dirty, momma lovin' boys. My two year old stumbles around in my highest of heels. That's about it. They don't really wear my clothes but they do try to be like me. Why? Well, besides the fact that I am awesome (tee hee) I am their mother. It's what kids do. It's the same reason they want to wear a pencil behind their ear like their father does. We are their examples. Much ado about nothing.
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