About a week or so ago, this landed in our house. A gift, a shared joke, from a dear friend who after having three fabulous boys added an equally fabulous girl to the bunch, not long after our daughter came into being. While I desperately tried to avoid the onslaught of pink, my friend embraced it. In our home, the shrieks for the pink one, the one with the bow and the princess stuff grow more shrill by the day, in her home the insistence that Lego is the way to go on all things appears firmly planted.
Across the miles, in emails and then in this package, my friend tells me they honor both desires with pink Legos. I’m not keen on the message that the mass produced gender prescribed crap often offers to our children, but should that sully the color pink? I figure as long as Bean is still investigating ants, climbing trees, taking dinosaurs on tracks across the desert, or building pink Lego bridges that a little or lot of pink is okay.
I wonder how my mum addressed this way back at the dawn of time when I was a kid. Part of the second wave of feminism, Mum went on to write books on gender issues in the elementary classroom, but still I occasionally got my then pink obsessed way and ended up in dresses like this:
1976 – Seven years old and at my Uncle’s wedding. Check out the other outfits!
Thirty-four years later it seems to have turned out alright, but where to find the balance? Mum? Ideas?
Rachel, Kerry, Erika, Julie, others does pink really matter that much in the grand scheme? Does it matter if the Legos are pink?