I’ve really fallen behind a little while preparing for Christmas and our trip away. So this is me s l o w l y r e s p o n d i n g to some of what’s been going on out there. If this is all old news to you then I apologise.
If case you still need convincing that there is some fucked up sexualising of children going on, check this.
Image credit: Feministing; these knickers for young girls read “Who needs credit cards..” across the crotch.
I don’t think we sexualise little girls because we’re all paedophiles, I think we sexualise little girls because we hyper-sexualise young women and we’ve objectified femaleness to the point of not knowing any other definition of femininity to introduce to little girls. But where are we going with this? Perhaps underpants for young boys should read “I’m growing up to be a dirty old man” because if we think our little girls are future sex commodities then what must we think of our little boys?
Don’t lose hope, Feministing successfully lobbied for these underpants (pictured above) to be taken off the shelves of Walmart.
If you’re the mother of a baby girl then sooner or later you’re going to have deal with The Princess. You’re suspicious of the princess, and you hate nearly everything about her,but she’s everywhere, she’s more powerful than you, and she will be a marketing force irresistible to your daughter. So what is a feminist mother to do? Force her daughter to be culturally marginalised by all the other little girls? Create an unholy passion for princesses in her daughter by forbidding them? Roll over and play dead and let the princesses do their thing? This is my favourite post ever on how a feminist mother deals with princesses.
Then I did something I’ve never done before. I went to The Disney Store. I felt like a covert researcher or an undercover cop, like one of Charlie’s Angels out on dangerous assignment, expecting someone to come up to me and say, “Hey, lady, stop! You can’t be in here!” and haul me away or something. There I was, a blasphemer among the faithful. I felt nekkid at the shrine.
Breathe.
So. OK. If I were thing 1, what in this store would delight me?
Finally, here is another ‘parental melt down’ post I came across, and you know the truth shall set us free and I think melt down posts are compulsory reading for parents. Whatever you may think of the Über Mummy Blogs and their resemblance to the Yummy Mummy phenomenon, they are generally painfully honest about the twists and turns of their lives and for that they’re extremely feminist.
I sat there and couldn’t stop the awkward, shaken crying as I struggled to tell his therapist that really, I swear to God, I’m a good mother. I discipline, he listens to me, we get compliments on his behavior from strangers, he’s loved and happy, we just don’t have a lot of structure to our days and I’ve been feeling kind of blue lately and my best mom friend is moving to California in two months and I just found out yesterday and I think I should go back to work but we want another baby but I can’t get pregnant but God, I have no business having another baby, 20 minutes ago I was ready to slap the shit out of the one I already have.
P.S Looky loo who has posted about almost the exact same things here.
blue milk 
Great minds think alike?
I’m also having a hard time keeping up with the blogging during Christmas — can’t wait until January!
Sweet Juniper (http://www.sweet-juniper.com/) has a very cute post on the “Princess Industrial Complex” today – fairy princesses in particular – and why it’s not enough just to be a fairy anymore. Quoting:
“Is not enough just to be a fucking fairy? You’ve already got effervescent butterfly wings and a magic wand and pointy shoes and a toadstool couch and two little tiny ponies to pull you around the forest in a wee cart.”
A happy read to start a feminist’s day.
Princesses weren’t big when I was a kid oh so many years ago – we wanted to be witches, which have a very different and to my mind more empowering symbolism, even though we did spend most of our time casting love potions in the general direction of Justin Wilkins’ house. But the consumption, the prettiness and the implicit born to privilege was totally absent. You didn’t buy witch paraphenalia at Toyworld, you made wands out of paddlepop sticks and potions out of flowers and tank water (and then we walked five miles in the snow to go to school and were grateful for the privilege.)
On the undies issue, when Lu was toilet trained she got to choose pants as a special treat. I was taken aback by the pictures and stars and glitter over the crotch areas – it’s not just the words it’s where they are placed – surely we do’t need to draw the eye to a three year old’s v**va – it’s not a sex game. Lu was drawn to these – all that sparkle but then she caught sight of the Thomas the Tank engine ones over in the boy section and oh! she just fell in love. Now we’ve picked up some Bob undies and she’s just so pleased, being a big Bob the Builder fan. I won’t allow that other crud in my house, I find it so offensive, more so than most other issues re: kids.
Now when I were a girl (do you suspect I’m actually an eighty year bore telling you what it was like in the good ol’ days?) I went to a school where the uniform requirements extended to undies – navy blue full briefs only. I’m not even sure if they had the equivalent to today’s offerings back in the 70s. I remember undies as being purely functional and not really a topic of interest to myself as a child.
I guess that’s my point – and I know I run on – I wasn’t a kid that long ago but thngs have changed so dramatically and so horribly in many ways – it’s such a shock.
Thanks for writing this post. I loved all the informative links. I hope you don’t mind I am gonna put you on my blogroll.
Kris, thanks for the link for the princess post, will check it out.
chaos – thanks for blogrolling me, of course I don’t mind. I’ll do the same for you, I can’t believe I haven’t got you and your feminism there already.
[…] parents are buying this stuff. They’re buying the bra-lettes for their five year olds and the knickers for ten year olds with “who needs a credit card” written across the crotch, and so, yes, they are to some degree participating in the sexualisation of […]
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