While I know some people are opposed to any messages emblazoned on tots’ T’s—and there are some I abhor—I admit that when a friend sent Saskia the classic (classic, in some circles) This is What a Feminist Looks Like shirt, I could not wait for her to grow into it.
Saskia was an infant when the shirt arrived in the mail, size 2T. She was a tiny infant and she’s a petite toddler. At two, she’s just able to wear it (it’s still roomy).
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This is a short rant and confession from a feminist mama with three boys and a girl—and a lot of feelings about kids’ clothing and how fashion contributes to gender stereotyping. Please be warned that I have a lot to say about this, too much for a single essay. So, beyond this wonderful T—and a quick mention of another T I happen to adore, a nice bubble gum pink shirt that reads Boys Can Wear Pink—what I’m going to write about as summer approaches is this: little girls’ bathing suits.
When Saskia received her initial influx of pink clothing (hand-me-downs from my friend, Karen’s daughter, Marmar, fondly dubbed by Karen “the pink bomb”) I went through and weeded out the items I knew I just couldn’t have my daughter wear (major frills, major sequins, a couple of onesies with phrases to be mentioned some other time). Amongst items I could not keep: the bikini, size three months.
I rejected the bikini because there’s nothing taboo for an infant to hide under a bikini top. The notion that there is? I think that’s sexualizing a baby, something I don’t find cute or innocuous.
Turns out, Saskia had no occasion for a bathing suit those first months anyway, and by the time summer rolled around, when we brought her into water, we opted for either a one-piece suit or swim diaper alone. She spent her first significant, mobile beach-and-pool time soon after she turned one and she wore bathing suits, no bikini. I didn’t have any swim diaper covers or tiny suits left from her trio of brothers, but I’m certain had I had one on hand, I’d have felt fine about her wearing it.
Back when my teenager was a toddler, the little diaper-cover style “suits” for tots were hardly geared to just one gender. Within a couple of years, though, even by the time my second child was wearing swim diaper covers and matching floppy sun-hats, distinct gender lines had been drawn. Boys’ covers had vehicles and dinosaurs and blue or red backgrounds for fish and other sea creatures. Girls’ behinds revealed pastel hues of flowers and kittens and their little tushies were adorned with ruffles lest anyone be confused.
I felt so stuck, unable to find a less gender-codified swim option (in a small town, there weren’t other toddler bathing suit options for sale on Main Street). This frustrating summer was the same one I struggled to find appealing make-you-want-to-wear-underpants underpants for my eldest boy, a kid who was decidedly not into trucks, dinosaurs or sports (are you sensing some themes here?) or the potty. My kid, he was “into” fairies, Alice in Wonderland, books, and the Wizard of Oz. Oh, and he never saw Spongebob, Sesame Street or Bob the Builder. The arduous task of cajoling him into underpants before the arcane preschool’s deadline received no fashion assist.
So, I admit, I have long resented the whole boys-must-be-boyish swim trunk idea. The one odd loophole in boys’ bathing suits is the Hawaiian-style flower, or as I think of it, surfer dude flora. Over the years, I’ve found a number of those “masculine enough” flowery suits for my guys. I’ve gone for solid colors, some stars, some sea creatures and even a couple of Euro-style close fitting suits (but once the kids passed the age of five or so, those were soundly rejected, no matter how cute).
Resentful as I may be of boys’ trunks, I am absolutely disgusted and terrified by girls’ suits. Bikinis don’t begin to describe the trespasses: cups, strings, one-shoulder affairs, too many frills, rhinestones… really? Really? Open kids’ clothing catalogues or go online or go into a kids’ clothing chain store and you will see things you swore either were meant for a fantasy of a fairy princess at the beach to wear or for women trying to get some action.
I’m not alone in my revulsion. I don’t think I’m alone in being scared, either. Like other clothes, like the whole toddler-and-preschool girls’ accessorization industry and like the way girls receive so many more comments in regards to appearance than their small male counterparts (trust me, it’s true, unless people think your boy’s a girl, then you’re neck-and-neck), there really can be no denying that we (our culture) set girls up for objectification to be the norm.
So, summer’s approaching and my toddler is gosh-darn super cute. And she will not be wearing a bikini this year. Full disclosure: she does have one from a pink bomb delivery. It’s green and red. She went to Florida in March and wore the bottom half by itself. The top stayed home.
