All About a Barbie

I had the unfortunate experience to find myself in the mall a few weeks ago on my one precious afternoon off.  Apparently, after the age of 45, the punishment for myopia is either wearing reading glasses over your contact lenses, or wearing complicated eyeglasses.  If you don’t know what I am talking about, take a walk to the closest CVS and try on a pair of readers and it will all become very clear.

Anyway, my complicated glasses needed to be adjusted before the Seder, as they were so scratched, I literally could not see the words in the Hagaddah.  I was seated next to a bespectacled mother and her adorable son, who was clutching a bag from the Disney Store. He was begging her to play with his new Anna doll. 

In a hushed voice she suggested, “How about Olaf instead?”

“No, Mommy.  I want to play with Anna!”

“I told you, not until we are in the car.”

“But Mommy, why can I play with Olaf here and not with Anna?”

Now, the little boy is not having a fit, he’s just asking, but the mother is getting that panicky look on her face.  She glances at me, and shoots me that “I’m so sorry” look, and I can see she’s mortified.  I try to come up with an “I understand look,” but I’m not sure she sees me; she’s trying so hard to diffuse her “situation.”  The situation of her little boy wanting to play with a doll. 

When someone finally comes out to wait on us at the glasses repair counter, I offer to let them go ahead of me, but mom decides to take her son out of the store rather than have a scene.

As I wait while they work their magic (aka change the lenses and charge me accordingly)… I think about the playthings I had for my own children. 

Before we even had children, my husband and I had a lot of discussions about how to be as parents.  One of the biggies was no toy weapons in the house. I didn't get much push-back from my husband, though growing up, he and his brother had a bee-bee gun.  He also had some pretty terrible stories about that gun (and bee-bees in the ears) so he was fine with that.  (He had a much harder time with the “let’s go with only cloth diapers” conversation.)

And then we had our first baby.  David was beautiful, perfect little boy.  We filled his room with toys.  No weapons ever came into the house.  Ah, see how easy that is?  Our little house was filled with art toys and building toys and musical instruments. Stuffed animals and train sets.  Trucks and dinosaurs. 

When we learned that I was pregnant again, we got little David a Cabbage Patch doll so he could attend a “big brother” class, and there he learned about changing diapers, feeding with a bottle, and giving babies a bath.  When the class was over, he got a sticker that said he was a prepared big brother, and he barely played with the doll again.

When David was 3 ½ along came his sister, Emily.  He was doting and loving.  None of the typical jealousy that you hear about.  He “read” to her from his favorite books (which he had memorized) and helped pick out what she should wear.   As Emily grew, we stood by our “no weapons” rule with ease.  She was more into the art kits and the stuffed animals, and David, though not the greatest sharer, was always happy to play with her.

One day after a playdate with David’s two best friends, twin girls from pre-school, he came home and asked if I’d buy him a Barbie doll. I was a bit taken aback, and let it go.  I had never been allowed to have a Barbie, I am not into the whole Barbie thing as an adult.  I just don’t think it is a good image for women.  AND let’s face it,  David is a boy.  A few weeks later, David who is only about 4 now, tries a different angle with me.  He suggests that Emily (6 months old) might like a Barbie, because little girls like that.

The next time he has his playdate at the twins’ house, I go and hang out with their mom, who is also nursing a new baby.  We smile as the three kids are playing dress-up together.  And then they are playing Barbie dolls.  For Hanukkah, David’s babysitter asks if she can get him a Barbie, he wants one so much.  I say okay, but get a Ken too.   He is thrilled.  I even make her some clothes on my sewing machine.   Ken’s hands get chewed up by the dog, having been left lying on the floor.

Poor Ken.

Three and a half years later, and we welcome Samuel.  Born on Shavuot, and a gift to our family.  He’s our wild child from day one.  This little guy starts climbing out of his crib and running by 9 months. When David meticulously builds the Brio Train into a majestic web of intertwined tracks, and Emily builds the town center around the veterinary clinic, Sam bull-dozes it with a truck in each hand.  When David builds the marble machine to perfection and Emily times the red marble against the blue one, Sam knocks the whole thing down with the leg of the teddy bear she has just had me sew, and has put a “cast” on.   Sticker books are taken apart, and Sam is covered with Emily’s animal stickers.  David’s school projects are kept up on the mantle of the fire place or on his top bunk bed.  Child-proof gates at the stairs are a joke, more of a barrier for our poor dog than a deterrent for Sam.

But the kicker?  Everything… EVERYTHING has become a weapon.  The snorkel from last summer is a sword.  The hammer from the little workshop is a, well I don’t even know what, but it went everywhere with him.  Every tree branch is a gun or knife.   He gravitated to the Lego sets that had the pirates, or the knights.  And somehow the videos that were once benign Disney videos to the other two suddenly suggest violence to Sam.  He wore a cape every day.  (I had to send him to daycare with a dishtowel tucked in to the back of his shirt or he wouldn't get in the car.)

And then it happened.  My mother-in-law sent Sam, a cowboy gun and holster for his 3^rd birthday.  After that I said yes when my husband wanted to get the costume with the plastic sword and I tried to hide the gun. When Sam played, he put on armor.  Sometimes he got others to join in. Sometimes he just pretended by himself for hours.  As he got older he pretended with little figures.  They’d work out their battles.  They’d fight.  Sometimes little guys would die.  Then they’d get back up again and fight some more. I was more than a little worried about this streak in him, as I had never seen it in my other two children.

Do they even make these anymore??

And we suddenly we had weapons in the house. And more than that.  We had the Lego Pirate Ship. We had the Playmobile soldiers fort.  The Mystic Knights.  Zorro. We had costumes. Battle ships. Videos. 

So what happened to these two little boys and their sister?

Turns out, David is gay.  But that Barbie doll didn’t make him gay.  And letting him play the way he needed to play with no judgement on him undoubtedly allowed him to feel safe, at least at home.  Even at that young age, he identified that it was a “girl’s toy” but he liked it.   He is a teacher, and is deeply dedicated to his work.  His students love him and he makes a difference every day.

Sam is a gentle, peaceful soul. In fact he is a volunteer for Ultimate Peace, a Frisbee Camp in Israel that teaches Israeli Jewish and Palestinian children to work out their differences on the playing field.  Still in college, the only sword is wields is his wit.  He is one of those few people his age that can relate to children, teens, peers and adults. 

And their sister?  Well, Emily did not actually pursue becoming a veterinarian, despite the hints above.  One summer she interned in vet’s office and was so turned off, she changed direction.  She now works for a company that helps people afford solar heating for their homes.  This is her passion, and I kvell to see her thriving in a living that makes the world a better place.

So, did I have to change my direction? Yes. I learned that a child needs to play.  I decided not to put a limit on play, as long as no one was getting hurt.  I may not have quite understood what was happening, but whatever it was, they needed to get out through play.

I also learned that they charge a ridiculous amount for eyeglasses and for the Anna and Olaf dolls. And if your son would rather play with Anna or Elsa, it’s going to be okay.

Thursday Was Definitely Not Pasta Day

Well, Guido Barilla most got his fifteen minutes of fame, and his anti-gay comments went globally viral.  No one is shocked that people still have anti-gay sentiments, but I think we are all a little amazed when people, corporate owners with a LOT at stake, announce them to the world!  I'll quote him here directly so I don't leave anything out... and also because he managed to put down the role of women, and take a swipe at same-sex couples' adoption...

"I would never do [a commercial] with a homosexual couple, not for lack of respect but because we don't agree with them," said Guido Barilla, according to a Reuters translation. "Ours is a classic family where the woman plays a fundamental role. … If [gays] don't like it, they can go eat another brand."

Just to drive his point home, Barilla added, "I have no respect for adoption by gay families because this concerns a person who is not able to choose," according to a translation from the U.K. Independent."Everyone has a the right to do what they want without disturbing those around them."

 http://www.advocate.com/politics/2013/09/26/barilla-gays-eat-someone-elses-pasta

Wow.  Bad enough he still thinks that way.  Please, don't try to explain to me that Italy is a "macho country" and they need a few more years to catch up, or that one person doesn't represent the entire company.  He does when his name happens to be Barilla.

 Here's what I posted on the company Facebook page... 

Good news. A "traditional" family now can have two dads or two moms, or a single parent, or be a multi-generational household, or a blended family or an adopted family... We all make new traditions in every generation and I think for many of us, Barilla products will not be part of our vast, colorful, diverse celebration of the human experience. You really blew it, Guido

I didn't really expect an answer.  But a little while later, this apology appears on the Barilla Facebook Page.  

At Barilla, we consider it our mission to treat our consumers and partners as our neighbors – with love and respect – and to deliver the very best products possible. We take this responsibility seriously and consider it a core part of who we are as a family-owned company. While we can’t undo recent remarks, we can apologize. To all of our friends, family, employees, and partners that we have hurt or offended, we are deeply sorry.*

 https://www.facebook.com/BarillaUS

Hey, my post (well, okay, and the thousands of others on Facebook in several languages, and on Twitter as well, hashtags: #boycottbarilla or #boicottbarilla) really got to him.
Or them. 
That looks like a nice apology.
And words are important, but so are actions.  I'm absolutely sure they ARE deeply sorry.  So let's see if they are sorry because one man spoke about how he felt and didn't represent the company, or they are sorry they are going to lose a lot of money and respect worldwide.  

In Judaism, we understand that true repentance, teshuvah, is making a different choice, when faced with the same set of circumstances the next time.  So I guess we will wait for the next ad campaign.

When their Facebook page looks like this

And doesn't make us think of this

Then we can stop boycotting this brand, and show that we appreciate a company who admits their mistakes, as egregious as they may be, and knows how to grow up. 

Peace, love and equality for ALL!

Juliet



*To which I responded: 
Words are good, and important. Your actions in the next few days will be even more important. The damage done by Guido Barilla was devastating and the ripples go far beyond the LGBT community. The world is watching. Do the right thing.

By the way, I did have some Barilla Pasta in my pantry.  I'm not a food waster, so I collected the few boxes and donated it to a food drive. I won't buy any more, but I will also not throw food in the garbage.

Parenting 101

This happened.


At a party last week, I was cornered by a long-time acquaintance whose three children are each about eight or ten years older than my three kids.  She wanted to know my "secret" to parenting.


"How did you manage to keep your kids Jewish?  How is it that they still are so respectful?  How did you get them to get along with each other so well?"


"Um, Dianna, isn't it a bit late for you and your kids?"


Luckily she assumed  I was making a joke, took it with a smile and said that she's working on her doctorate. She was looking for information on birth order and parenting.  I assured her I'd give her all my parenting "secrets," but just not right then, as we were making our way to the the dinner table.  I started to think about what I'd tell her if she did call me.


You make a lot of decisions when you are a  parent.  (Well, I hope you do...)  This is part one of what I think will be a multi-part blog piece with some thoughts about raising kids to be healthy, mentschy, "normal" human beings in this not-so-normal world.


Before we even had children, and certainly when they were very young parents, my husband and I were deliberate in our choices... We will raise our three children in a house that promotes peace, and love. I believed then, and believe now that every generation must be the next generation that comes closer to an understanding of true peace.  I wanted our home to reflect what I teach in my classes.  

• No weapons in the house. 

• Toys will be gender neutral.  

• No violence on television.

• No cursing or negative, hateful language.

Hah hah hah.

The first time we were challenged just slightly with our crazy gender neutral parenting ideas was when our oldest, "Daniel," was in nursery school.  He must have been 4, and our daughter, "Maya" was 1  1/2.


His teacher, Miss Laura, asked me to stay after the other moms had left with their toddlers.  She was very solemn.  Daniel was never naughty.  Not at home and not at school, so I was immediately concerned.   She let Daniel continue to "read" in the library corner, and said to me in a hushed voice, "I need to tell you something very serious."  I felt my heart race.  I looked at him.  He seemed fine.  I looked back at Laura and she was clearly very nervous to tell me...
"Yes, what is it?"
"Daniel wants to be Queen Esther in our Purim Parade."
"Oh, ok."
My pulse goes back to a normal beat.
"You know, not Ahashveros, not Mordechai or Haman.  Queen Esther."
"Yes, I get it.  That's fine."
"It's fine?"
"Yes, it's completely fine, let him make the Queen Esther costume."


I looked at my perfectly happy, healthy son and breathed a huge sigh of relief.  Having completed cancer treatments less than a year before and not being sure my next scan would be clean, this was anything but serious.  He identifies with Queen Esther, eh? The hero of the story...I always related more with Vashti, but okay. (I'd be a lot more worried if it were Haman, the evil-doer who wanted to kill the Jews.)
I scooped up my delicious, healthy, son and put him in his carseat and brought him home.


On the day of the Purim parade, there marched my son, with his crown and cape, and he beamed as he knew how great he looked.  (The fact was, the kids made their costumes and they all looked pretty much the same.  Except for the little Hamans.  They had sinister looking black paper hats, and black paper mustaches that fell off about 2 minutes after the parade started.)


Not long after that came the twin cursing incidents of the winter of '92.


I supposed that every family has a story or two like these.  


I had asked my husband to work hard to curb his language when we had children.  He agreed with me that this was a good idea.  It was not just about cursing, but all kinds of language that I did not want our children to ever hear in our house.  I'm proud to say that we do not use "hate," "stupid," or "shut-up" directed at one another to this day.


A bit of history here:  Our two cats, of blessed memory, had been with us for many years and had edged right up into pure decrepitude by this point in our family life.  Not a day went by when one or the other cat didn't miss the litter box entirely, or cost us a fortune at the vet. To say that they were long past bringing us joy is putting it kindly.  One night, little Daniel came in to see my husband very upset about something.  He was muttering and tromping around the living room, and innocently, Daniel asked, "Dad, is it the fucking cats?"


This was immediately followed by a family dinner to our favorite Chinese Restaurant, the Great Wall.  Little Maya was on her daddy's shoulders, and we ran from the car to the doors of the restaurant, through the snowy, slushy parking lot.  I held Daniel's hand on this messy night, right behind them.  As we walked in through the doors, a huge pile of melting snow/slush fell on my husband's bald head, causing him to yell out, "Shit!"  This delighted my toddler daughter to no end: The splash of the snow, the yelling of a brand new word, the excited reaction from me.  The rest of the night, Maya sat in the high chair at the Great Wall restaurant exclaiming "Shit! Shit! Shit!" enjoying her soup and noodles, and mortifying me and my mom, (and probably secretly delighting my dad).  My husband became MUCH more careful about his language after that.


As our kids grew up, the BAN on cursing morphed into a tolerance on cursing, but only when it was funny.  Which was to say, you cannot curse at another family member, but it was okay for comedic effect.


Then there was my ban on weapons.


Easy enough to enforce with our first two children.  Daniel and Maya never missed them.  At other children's homes, they were not interested, and  I was the slightly smug mom who raised the peaceful new generation of mini-hippies.  They shall learn war no more.  Not in my house.  Nope.  Not until "Jack" was born.  Before this little guy was out of the crib, he had turned everything in sight into a weapon.  We still didn't buy him any guns or swords; there was no need!  Each tree branch was a perfect pistol or rifle.  Whether he was a Jedi or a ninja, every toy in the playroom was re-purposed into his trusty weapon, and stowed into his belt.  A favorite sword was the snorkel, which I believe also served as a secret walking stick, until he left it in the movie theater in our town.  He was so utterly despondent we went back to find it, but it had been discarded with the containers of half-eaten pop-corn and overly-sweetened slushies.  Eventually we got Jack a knight costume that came with a little plastic sword, and there was no going back.  


I came to understand that this was the way he needed to play.  Pretending that the plastic knife from the play kitchen was a dagger during the Robin Hood phase satisfied or soothed something in him and allowed him to pretend, in the same way that my older son found joy in creating masterpieces with Legos, and my daughter found outlets with her art kits.  If I had taken away the markers from Maya, she would have found the crayons, take them away and she would find the colored pencils.  Was little Jack going to grow up to be a war-mongering overlord?  I didn't know.  I decided that I would continue to parent as best as I could, trying to monitor what he watched on tv and supervise the way he played with others so that he learned what was and was not appropriate play. Pretending you are pirates on the swingset is okay.  Pushing younger kids off and saying they have fallen off the plank is not okay.  ("That's a time out.  Why?  Because you aren't really a pirate.")


After I said yes to Jack having a sword, and later, a fake gun* from Wild West City** I was pretty sure I knew what I'd say to Daniel when he asked if he could have a Barbie Doll. I can't say I didn't think about it a little bit.  I had a few concerns.  Would he want to bring it to school, and if he did, would he get teased?  Should I insist that he should get a Ken doll? Should I ignore his request and see if he forgot about it?  And the big question... if you buy a boy a Barbie, will that make him gay?  


Let's get that last question out of the way, and let me just say that was for the benefit of any parent who is reading this now and is going through something similar.  Because let's face it.  A toy cannot possibly have the power to change a person's sexual identity.   So the real question was, is there a chance that my child may grow up and realize he's gay?  And will buying him a Barbie now change that later?


Here's what I did, and I am pretty sure I discussed it with my husband, though now I don't remember the conversation.    The kids' babysitter, Meggie wanted to buy the kids each something for Hanukkah, and Daniel had asked her too.  So she asked us if it would be alright, and knowing this was a way that Daniel needed to play, I said yes, please don't spend too much, but sure.  Meggie bought him a Barbie and a Ken, and Daniel was a very happy guy.  He did not ask to bring them to school. 


What lessons did I learn from my children's play habits?  My daughter Maya loved to play with little toy animals, and for a while wanted to be a vet.  She also liked to draw on the walls with Sharpie, but had no inclination to become a graffiti artist.  She now teaches children in an after-school environmental education program.


My older son, Daniel, as it happens is gay.  Jokingly, he says it's because I let him play with the Barbie, but seriously, I think we both know that letting him play with the doll then just means he doesn't need to play with one now, as a 25 year old young man.  He's a teacher and a great role model to young people.


And my son, Jack, who, during his Zorro phase carved a giant "Z" into my parents kitchen table with one of their knives?  Well, we don't know about him yet.  So far he seems to have left his need for weapons behind and has followed in his mother's more peaceful ways, but he's only 18, so we're keeping an eye on him.  After spending the summer as a camp counselor, he probably has a few stories of his own to share.


And after all this thinking and writing... so far, Dianna has not called me.  And these aren't really all my secrets, not by a long shot... just the first few things that came to mind when I thought about my children, and what I had to think, and re-think as parenting theory gave way to parenting reality.   


I wanted to raise each child to be the best most unique person that he or she could be... I hope I am still doing that.












*I did not really say "yes" to the fake gun so much as I didn't have a full-blown fight with my husband in the middle of the OK Corral when he bought it for Jack while I was in the bathroom with Maya.
**Wild West City:  The worst, tackiest theme park in NJ.   So terrible that we had to go there twice during Jack's cowboy phase.  Click here to check it out.

An Open Letter to Governor Christie

This started as an open letter to the Governor, begging him to do the right thing and allow the bill to become law.  The very day I wrote it, he vetoed the marriage equality bill, so I edited my letter, changed it to an essay, and mailed it to the newspaper, as I could not keep quiet.  

This is the copy I sent to The Record, the local NJ newspaper.  So far it has not been published.  But this blog post has been viewed quite a few times.  And it looks like Maryland is about to be the next state to pass same-sex marriage.

February 18, 2012

I have been ranting on my Facebook page, and doing a lot of tweeting lately, and even though the world is going the way of the social media, due to the seriousness of this issue, an actual letter is in order.  You see, lives are at stake- lives of people we know, and countless people we don’t know.

The need to write send this letter to the paper began as I read yesterday’s Record. There were two front page headlines: New picture of defendant and Gay Marriage Backers Plan for Coming Battle.  The first refers to the tragedy of Tyler Clementi’s suicide, and the planned court date of his roommate.The second refers to The Marriage Equality bill, passed by both the New Jersey State Senate and House, which would soon be reaching Governor Christie’s desk for a signature, and the preparations being made for a potential battle which is likely to ensue if he should decline. A few hours later, as he promised, Chris Christie vetoed this bill that meant so much to so many.

He had said publicly that he planned to veto the bill and “...move on to other things that the people of New Jersey say are more important to them… (Gay marriage backers plan for strategy for coming battle, 2012).” It made me wonder if he thought to ask voters if saving the life of a young college student might be right up there with creating jobs and lowering taxes.

I’ll explain the connection.

Tyler Clementi, a Rutgers freshman, jumped to his death off the George Washington Bridge, after being “outed” as gay by his roommate.  He was more than outed. He was exposed publicly, virally, on Facebook and Twitter. Because being gay is still being “The Other,” and because of the speed and scope at which this occurred, Tyler, overwhelmed, decided he would rather take his own life than face the fallout of this public “outing.”  As a result, and in the wake of this horrible tragedy, schools all across New Jersey, and the United States, have increased their efforts to stop bullying.  

As positive as this development is, there is an interesting twist. There are specific laws which support moves to stop bullying on the basis of prejudice or bias. If you make a racist comment about an ethnic group, it is considered a hate crime.  Any action taken against a religious group is likewise punishable based upon that principle.  It seems that the intention of the law is to protect against any crime against any group based upon cultural difference. Clearly, a veto of same-sex marriage now marginalizes an entire segment of our population. Our own government has just provided an excuse for the ignorant and cruel among us to continue to behave in a way that is reprehensible. Chris Christie missed an opportunity to teach a new generation that the bigotry of their parents will not be tolerated. He missed the chance to teach them the true meaning of democracy and equality. By vetoing this bill, he gave kids the go-ahead to bully and tease gay and lesbian kids.  He allowed teachers to stand idly by when they see it. Christie is saying that gay and lesbians are not equal to heterosexuals. In fact, even the children of these couples will now be subject to another generation of ostracizing and elitism rather than acceptance and understanding if we do not work together for change right now.

The state senate and legislature have voted. Polls clearly indicate that the majority of those living in New Jersey currently and strongly support Marriage Equality.  And for those who may not love the idea of a gay marriage, the wonderful thing about our country is that they never have to have one. 

I am saddened and disgusted that our governor did not hear the voices of his constituents, that he did not represent our state and his voters by doing the right thing. He had the chance to make New Jersey the seventh state to boast marriage equality.  Doing so would only have helped our state.   Hopefully the New Jersey government will be able to override his veto.  Then, like our parents, who knew that people of color were not “separate but equal,” and that women and men all have solace in the job market, in just a few years, we would be able look back at this milestone, and say that we were part of the generation who made this change.  

Juliet Barr

Ramsey

Mother, Educator and Voter