How to get to
Stereotype
Street
By Sharon Lamb
and Lyn Mikel
Brown
Boston Globe,
August 10, 2006
AT LONG LAST
there's a new
girl moving to
``Sesame
Street." The
hopes of mothers
everywhere rest
on her little
shoulders. Will
she be smart?
Will she be
computer savvy?
Will she love
sports or play
an instrument?
Will she explore
like Dora or
love books like
Hermione? What
will she teach
our daughters
about growing up
girl in the new
millennium?
Bring her on,
``Sesame
Street." We've
been waiting for
decades.
Alas, all the
creative minds
at PBS, all
those educators
who supposedly
care so much
about kids, all
the king's
horses and all
the king's men
-- and all they
can come up with
after nine
months of
research is a
pink-skinned
fairy in a
little petaled
dress, with
sparkly pompoms
for hair? A
fairy?
It's true.
Abby Cadabby is
being sold with
gusto in the
same way
stereotypes are
sold everywhere
to girls -- as a
choice. ``If you
think about `The
Mary Tyler Moore
Show,' some
girls relate to
Rhoda, who's our
Zoe, and some
girls really
relate to Mary,
who's a girly
girl," said Liz
Nealon,
executive vice
president and
creative
director of
Sesame Workshop.
Just about as
soon as the
phrase ``girl
power" was
invented,
marketers and
the media have
been using those
words to mean
the power to
choose while
shopping or the
power to choose
between a few
stereotypical
girl ``types."
Help us, please,
if the only
types that still
exist for girls
are Rhoda and
Mary!
Girly is more
than a type
these days,
though -- it's a
lifestyle. And
PBS is banking
on the fact that
little girls
will choose its
version of a
girly fairy
over, say,
Disney's or
Mattel's
version. Because
if they do, what
comes down the
glittery pike
are tons of toy
sales, complete
with all the
pink and frilly
things they can
possibly attach
to little Abby.
And what do
the little girls
watching get out
of the deal,
other than
glitz? Abby's a
``fairy in
training" ready
to make all
those cute
little mistakes
girls will soon
read about as
preteens in the
``Traumarama"
section of
Seventeen
magazine. She's
designed to
appear
``vulnerable
looking," in
case any girl
might get the
outlandish
notion that
being strong or
sure of herself
is a good thing.
To top it off,
she can hover
only when she's
happy, lest
girls imagine a
world in which
they don't have
to smile all the
time to be
successful.
Fairies are a
bit like
pretty-in-pink
princesses but
with the power
to -- what? --
sprinkle fairy
dust on someone?
Look around
children's
media, the
morning cartoon
shows, the tween
movies; look at
all the gadgets,
swords, cameras,
and binoculars
boys get to use
in order to act
in the world,
while girls,
with a few
exceptions, are
still mainly
spectators. When
girls are given
power, it's
typically magic
power, not real
power to act and
change the
world. And,
incidentally, we
all know what
happens to girls
with magic
powers after a
while -- either
they morph into
the characters
from ``I Dream
of Genie" and
``Bewitched,"
using their
powers to keep
their ``masters"
happy or they
disappear
without a trace.
Nealon told
The
New York Times
that girls can
be pink and
powerful: ``My
daughter is
comfortable with
clothes and hair
and makeup and
totally embraces
her femininity"
while still
remaining a
powerful girl.
But why does
femininity have
to be framed so
narrowly as pink
and sparkly or
as loving
clothes, hair,
and make-up? Why
don't we ever
see a
tuba-playing,
basketball-tossing,
pink-loving,
science nerd,
who also likes
to play around
with her hair
and loves to
read sci-fi
novels -- that
is, a girl who's
real, and
complex, and
interesting.
Because in
inventing
her, and
we're quoting
Nealon on this
one, the
producers
wouldn't be ``as
absolutely
broad-based as
[they] can be."
That's a clever
way of saying
stereotypes
sell.
Sharon Lamb
and Lyn Mikel Brown
are the
authors of the
just-published
"Packaging
Girlhood:
Rescuing Our
Daughters from
Marketers
Schemes"
.
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