Letting her dreams take off?

Rose Petal Cottage, targeted toward girls three and older, is a new toy from the kids' company Playskool. It is a playhouse (the website says "more than just a playhouse") deemed "the house of her dreams." And what do girls get to make-believe in this dream house? Why, that they are doing laundry, of course. Is that not what every girl dreams of doing when she grows up? Each "cottage" has an accompanying play-stove, and Playskool also sells a (pretend) muffin-making kit, rose motif lounge chair, "nursery set," kitchen sink, and--you guessed it--washing machine to accompany the house. Would anyone ever market the opportunity to pretend to do a load of wash to boys?

The website has an option of viewing an open house to explore the possibilities within the playhouse. In it, a girl demonstrates the various tasks possible within the dream house and its accompanying accessories. Basically, it seems to show the activities of the very stereotypical image of a "dutiful housewife." Many know that the stereotypical image of a woman whose work is at home does not fit AT ALL with what the media tends to portray. While childcare, cooking, and yes, even cleaning for some, are wonderful pursuits if that is where your heart and passion lies, it simply does not work in my mind to assume that all girls must be exposed to the Rose Petal Cottage as the "house of her dreams." It is sort of like saying, "Here girls, limit your image of your life to within these four walls." What about girls' creativity? I would like to know what young girls would have come up with as their ideal houses and seen a product that resulted from collaboration with that information. A product that would have been flexible, changeable beyond which appliances you choose to purchase. What about multiple products, different houses geared toward different girls?

Now, I have to diverge here and talk about my own personal dream house. Although I would truly appreciate some nice appliances in this image of mine, the washer just never comes up when I picture myself there. (You can tell I am hung up on the laundry bit. It is one of my not-so-favorite activities. I have been recently encountering some laundry appliance challenges.) I picture myself out in a beautiful garden, and to tell the truth I really would not mind the whole rose petal effect on the roof and chimney. I like pink, always have, love floral patterns, and did very much used to enjoy taking care of dolls. That is just me, though. Anyway, within the house, I would love a great big desk for writing, a nice big open space for moving around, a sewing room (Again, just me. I happen to love sewing, but that does not mean any other female should or should not.) The whole gender-geared thing is tough. I remember attending a joint birthday party when I was about five of a brother and sister. For the girls, the party favors were princess hats, I believe. For the boys, something like castle buckets. I adored both of these party favors and lobbied hard to take both home. I seriously thought that everyone was going to take home one of each. I was surprised when I encountered a challenge as I tried to walk away with both. Growing up girl is all about finding the voice within and fending off the world's expectations while you do that. Then making that voice heard.

The feminist world has recently experienced a new craft wave after listening to women's voices. First, society made it the status quo and basically the necessity for most women to knit, sew, and craft in other ways. Making the family's clothes, manifesting handkerchiefs, and many other tasks were just part of a woman's world. Then, as feminism hit, women began dropping their needles in protest to what was defined as a "woman's work," and in general the sentiment was that an inclination for crafts and a feminist outlook on life contradicted each other. No more forced tasks that only women had to do. Now, the general consensus seems to be that women should be free to choose about everything in their lives. No more fitting a certain image of either a traditional woman or a feminist. Just being a feminist woman, and defining that individually. A self. An expressive, empowered, and celebratory inner voice showing up on the outside.

All this makes me think about a favorite recording of mine. It is from Free to Be... You and Me. The segment I love is called "Housework," and the actress Carol Channing narrates it. In it she recites such pearls of wisdom as, "Children, when you have a house of your own,/Make sure, when there's house work to do,/That you don't have to do it alone." It is truly a stellar piece of work, in my opinion. (I listened to the CD repeatedly when I was eleven. I am going to have to diverge again to extol its virtues. I played the CD for my younger cousins, I listened to it to help me go to sleep sometimes, I sang along to it quite a bit. There's one song on the CD, "It's Alright to Cry," that I truly treasure. I choreographed a dance to it when I was fourteen. The album, which is from the 1970s but still applies today, challenges gender stereotypes and celebrates children's freedom to be themselves. OK, my ode to Free to Be... You and Me now over. I could go on, though.)

Back to Playskool, though. By now, you have gotten my opinion of Rose Petal Cottage. I would have liked to see some flexibility with it, some insinuation that girls do not have to conform to this image whatsoever, and some realistic input from a range of girls. I think it would have been pretty cool if they had thrown in a pretend tool set or maybe a science lab add-on. I would have liked those when I was younger.

What do you think? Please, please, please, share your opinion! It does not have to go along with a thing I have to say. All you have to do is express yourself from your gut. Do you think that the toy world markets fairly to girls? Do you wish toys were more gender-neutral? What kind of images do you think young girls should be exposed to in the media?

I want to know. I will be waiting excitedly to hear your responses!

Sending you a heap of empowerment, Elizabeth