Showing posts with label message picture books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label message picture books. Show all posts

Monday, November 5, 2018

BOYS WEARING DRESSES

MORRIS MICKLEWHITE AND THE TANGERINE DRESS
Written and Illustrated by Christine Baldacchino
(Groundwood Books, 2014)

10,000 DRESSES
Written by Marcus Ewert
Illustrated by Rex Ray
(Seven Stories Press, 2008)

JACOB’S NEW DRESS
By Sarah and Ian Hoffman
(Albert Whitman & Company, 2014)


I love picture books more now than I did as a kid. They’ve gotten better (although I still have a soft spot for Curious George books and Are You My Mother?). As a teacher, I regularly read picture books to my classes. The students always got excited. As a principal, I continued my readings, sometimes crashing a classroom and letting kids vote from five I’d brought along. I began every staff meeting and every PTA meeting with a picture book. If I tried to skip the reading, parents would protest, “But this is why we came!” Yes, we all like to be read to. We like to relax and marvel at playful and/or intricate illustrations. We enjoy the careful word choice and how a story can be told so concisely.

I adore the funny ones (e.g., The Day the Crayons Quit; Warning: Do Not Open This Book; I’d Really Like to Eat a Child). I’m captivated by the a-ha books (Flotsam; Way Home; The Other Side). And I’m amazed at how picture books so ably tackle big issues, such as death (Zetta Elliott’s Bird) and illegal drugs (Clark Taylor’s The House that Crack Built). Check out any of these titles from your local library. You may decide to add a picture book to your regular book haul.

As much as I could go on and on about picture books, I shall rein it in and focus on a trio that I wish I’d used in my education career, books that need a gentle, curious adult to elicit a needed discussion on gender roles and gender identity. As the titles make clear, these are books about boys who wear dresses: Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress, 10,000 Dresses and Jacob’s New Dress.

First up, Morris. He lives with mother Moira and his cat Moo. (Yes, the alliteration is a little heavy at the get-go.) Morris is one of those youngsters who likes many things. “Mondays are great,” we are told, “because on Mondays, Morris goes to school.” So many of the things he likes happen there. What Morris likes most is center time, when he chooses to play dress-up. That’s when he gets to wear the tangerine dress which “reminds him of tigers, the sun and his mother’s hair.” He loves the swishes and crinkles he hears while moving in the dress and the click, click, clicks from the shoes he wears with it. But, “[s]ometimes the boys make fun of Morris. Sometimes the girls do, too.” Soon Morris doesn’t want to go to school.

On the title page of 10,000 Dresses, we see Bailey, smiling and wearing a simple white t-shirt and underwear. The message: this is a boy. But the story opens, perhaps jarringly with, “Every night Bailey dreamed about dresses.” There’s some awkward language about a stairway in a “red Valentine castle” that had me frowning, but this is more of a message book than a literary marvel. Bailey’s dreams involve dresses of rainbow-flashing crystals and lilies, roses and honeysuckles. Her dreams are instantly dashed by her parents. (Yes, this 2008 book uses preferred pronouns of she and her for Bailey.) “You’re a boy,” his mom says. “Boys don’t wear dresses!”

And Bailey’s response is heartbreaking: “But...I don’t feel like a boy.”

Jacob’s New Dress goes down the same path. Boy likes wearing dresses. Other boys don’t understand and make fun of him. Boy learns to be himself/herself regardless. Of the three, this one felt more for adults than kids. As I read it, I was more focused on the hesitancy and mixed messages of the adults. Despite the fact Jacob’s teacher says, “The dress-up corner is where...you can be a dinosaur, a princess, a farmer—anything!”, she then says to Jacob, “What new thing could you imagine being? A firefighter? A policeman.” Jacob resists her guidance and answers, “I’m the princess.” Yay, Jacob! His mom doesn’t let Jacob wear his home dress to school, explaining, “It would get dirty at school.” And when Jacob makes his own dress out of towels—surely that can get dirty—his dad frowns and says, “Put on some shorts and a shirt under that dress-thing.” The end page of this book includes an authors’ note and an educational note about “pink boys” and “gender-nonconforming children”. I think the story speaks for itself.

There have always been Morrises and Baileys and Jacobs. But, in my day, they would have to change. They would have to don and dream of dresses in secret. Either that or the bullying would be relentless, stretching from kindergarten to the great beyond. Morris would be mocked as “Margaret.” “Melissa.” Or the much-maligned, all-purpose sissy taunt: “Nancy.” But we’re in a time now when most recognize that it’s everyone else that needs to adjust. Morris is just being Morris. Bailey can be whoever she wants. Let Jacob wears what he likes. Why should anyone have a problem with that?

Sadly, they still do. As early as kindergarten, boys know to avoid pinks and purples and to leave the dolls alone in the play centers...unless they are being used to fire out of a make-believe cannon. Traditional (or conforming) gender roles are already established, whether it’s due to nature, nurture or a combination.

A colleague of mine shared how she refused to buy toy guns or other weaponry for her two boys and yet, even before they learned to wave, they were using their thumb and index finger to form a quick-draw gun. Bang! Bang! As I shopped for my cousin’s baby shower this summer, I was dismayed that so much, from cards to gift bags to stuffed animals, came only in pink or blue. Baby Jack’s nursery is painted green and adorned with gray whales, crabs and octopuses. I am further reminded of a fascinating New York Times article about trying to reverse gender roles and also teach gender neutrality: “In Sweden’s Preschools, Boy Learn to Dance and Girls Learn to Yell”.

Some may indeed be entrenched (and most comfortable) in their typical male or female gender identification. The point is to open their eyes to the fact it’s okay for others to express themselves differently and to open the door for others to explore a more fluid or less typical gender identity.

These are important books to read and discuss with children, perhaps more than once over a period of years. Despite greater awareness of Morris, Bailey and Jacob, gender-role and gender-identity defying boys remain a minority. It is easy for peers to find their behaviors and preferences queer, in the “odd” sense of the word. If a child’s first reaction—i.e., a boy wearing a dress is odd—is not elicited and considered, then the opportunity for transformational learning decreases. A child may listen to the story and go away unchanged, still reacting critically when he or she observes another child acting outside of gender norms. Ridicule goes underground. Then it’s a burden for the targeted child to have to muster the courage to report or to have bear on his own.

Books like these seek to increase awareness and acceptance to reduce burdens. They also provide safe reference points for parents, teachers and children. “Remember when we read that book about Morris and the orange dress...?”

These books are worth reading, perhaps a week or a month apart. I wish they’d been around and read to me when I was a kid. It helps kids to know that Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress (or 10,000 Dresses or Jacob’s New Dress) isn’t some one-off book. Beyond the fact the main characters wear dresses, there are positive traits about each character that should be elicited from the reading audience. The boys-wearing-dresses images may be vivid takeaways but there is more to admire about Morris, Bailey and Jacob.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

WILLIAM'S DOLL

A Picture Book

Written by Charlotte Zolotow

Illustrated by William Pène du Bois

(HarperCollins, 1972)

Full disclosure: I receive American Girl catalogs in the mail. They seem to come every six weeks. I can flip through the pages and dream of owning a football-sized doll. I can get Addy, “a courageous girl from the Civil War era” or a Bitty Baby in various skin, hair and eye colors. So many choices; it’s overwhelming.



I am not ashamed of my American Girl catalog; instead, I am amused. A few years ago, I went online and ordered one to help with a sitcom spec script. Unfortunately, the employed writers on “Modern Family” had a similar idea and ran with it. It proved I had a good sense of the show but killed my spec. It seems nothing can kill my catalog “subscription.” At least I recycle responsibly.

To be honest, I’m uncomfortable with how much marketing goes into girls playing with dolls, even politically correct historical dolls. I’m sure they’re okay as part of a well-balanced toy chest. Barbie could even be there along with rubber snakes and a retro Etch A Sketch. Call me horribly biased, but I’d much rather see boys playing with dolls. And that’s why I’m blogging about William’s Doll.

This is a remarkable picture book, particularly considering it was published forty-two years ago by a major American publisher. As one can surmise from the title, William is a young boy who wants a doll. More than anything.

He wanted to hug it

and cradle it in his arms

and give it a bottle

and take it to the park

and push it in the swing

and bring it back home.

Yes, all normal things one does with a doll. Normal things for a girl.

No doll for William. His brother dismisses the idea. “Don’t be a creep!” (Mild words. It’s a picture book, remember.)

The kid next door is more direct. “Sissy, sissy, sissy!”

William’s father takes corrective action. He teaches William basketball. William excels.

But William still wants a doll.

This leads to another intervention from his father.

William finally gets a doll. His grandmother proves to be the enlightened one.

I would have remembered this book had a teacher or librarian shared it with my class. Maybe I would have wanted a doll, too. (I played with animal figurines instead. It may have been odd but it wasn’t as flagrant a gender-role violation.) I only discovered this book as it was mentioned as a passing citation in a recent New York Times Book Review. I hope others noticed, too. And I am encouraged that I found the book on the shelf at the closest Los Angeles library branch. A few of the pages even show signs of use.

There are things I can pick apart about this book. I wish the doll hadn’t been blond-haired and blue-eyed. I don’t think the author needed to go out of her way to explain that William excelled at basketball. And the grandmother’s defense of the doll when talking to the father closes some doors that should have remained open. (“He needs it,” she said, “to hug and to cradle and to take to the park so that when he’s a father like you, he’ll know how to take care of his baby…”) Still, William’s Doll would have been ground-breaking in its time. Even now, it provides a wonderful springboard for discussion.

I may recycle catalogs, but I am going to track down a copy of William’s Doll. There’s a spot for it on one of the many shelves in my (principal’s) office. Right beside the Barrel of Monkeys.