<![CDATA[Jezebel: tomboys]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/jezebel.com.png <![CDATA[Jezebel: tomboys]]> http://jezebel.com/tag/tomboys http://jezebel.com/tag/tomboys <![CDATA[Is The Word "Tomboy" Obsolete?]]> The new, girlier incarnation of Dora the Explorer prompts The Minneapolis Star-Tribune to examine what may be a dying breed: the tomboy.

Kristin Tillotson of the Star-Tribune argues that the word "tomboy" may be outmoded now that "girls have more athletic options than ever and are outpacing boys in college-graduation rates." The idea that girls don't have to dress or act like boys in order to be considered smart, strong, or adventurous is awesome, but we're not entirely there yet. Scarlett Thomas, who plays Ramona in an upcoming stage production of "Ramona Quimby," says "she likes Ramona, a still-beloved classic kid's lit character, because she thinks for herself and stands her ground — traits associated with boys and tomboys, but not girly girls." And young Girl Scout Shamira MensanTeajaha Granger says, "girls have to stay on top of their game about how they look and being clean all the time. Boys come to school smelling like anything."

All this implies that we haven't yet reached a world where traits like "well-dressed," "adventurous," "pretty," "sporty," and "smelly" can exist independently of each other and of gender. Even Tillotson falls prey to some gender stereotypes, as when she generalizes, "little girls love to wear pink tutus." As far as we're concerned, as long as well-meaning people say things like this, there will always be a place for the term tomboy, and a soft spot in our hearts for girls who prefer a cape to a tutu and don't mind "smelling like anything." These girls aren't necessarily smarter, cooler, or stronger than girls who wear tiaras and lip gloss, but for now they might have to be braver, because, as another Girl Scout said, boys still expect girls to "to have a Coke-bottle shape and wear cute clothes and makeup."

"Ramona Quimby" director Clinton Turner Davis thinks "it would be interesting to poll some of the female leaders of our time — Michelle Obama, Madeleine Albright, Condoleezza Rice — and find out how many of them identified as tomboys." We took a similar poll of the Jezebel staff, and here are our results: Anna (H.) and Hortense were both total tomboys. Sadie "loved dolls and stuff, but I was very rambunctious, always climbing trees, skinning my knees, very grubby and kinda feral, too!" Dodai "had a phase where i was all about bugs and karate, but I never really thought of it as boyish." Intern Katy "was really interested in karate and boxing, but like Dodai, I didn't think it was 'boyish.'" Margaret says, "I don't know if having a brother very close in age influenced how I played, but I didn't pick up that you weren't supposed to wear a frilly dress AND play with He-Man figures in the mud until I was older." And while I was really into clothes, I also enjoyed X-Men, Creepy Crawlers, and fighting. If we're any indication, it looks like it's possible to combine "boy stuff" and "girl stuff" into a relatively happy childhood. What about you? Were you more about frills, more about bugs and karate, or all about both?

Tomboys In Tutus [Minneapolis Star-Tribune]

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<![CDATA[Where Have All The Tomboys Gone?]]> This morning we received a tip about a piece published Saturday in the Guardian on the death of the tomboy. Writer Stephanie Theobald, a former tomboy herself, wonders what has happened to all the boyish little girls.

Theobald uses anecdotal evidence to support her argument that in today’s pink princess Barbie doll culture, the tomboy is on the decline. She has a difficult time finding a tomboy to interview for her article, and takes this as a sign that tomboys have generally gone out of fashion. However, while her methods are rather unscientific, Theobald does make a good point about the marketing of sexy to young girls:

Alarmingly, when it comes to the box office, it seems that semi-sexualising girls is still the only way ahead. Take Disney's revamped Famous Five cartoon, Famous 5: On the Case. Jo, the daughter of George, seems forced to wear figure-hugging girl versions of boy clothes (no tomboy worth her salt would ever wear figure-hugging clothes). And what of poor Dora the Explorer? Nickelodeon recently redesigned the Dora doll to make her more "feminine" (read "profitable"). Instead of being equipped with tools, map and backpack, her new accessories include halter-tops, tiaras and glittery hairbrushes.

Theobald hits on a disturbing trend that we’ve discussed before. Girls are marketed pink everything, sparkly everything, princess everything. In a world where being pretty is the best compliment a young girl can receive, it is hard to be a tomboy. In many ways, Theobald is right; tomboys have been “medicalised,” as has gender-bending in general. Children are now (and have always been) encouraged to conform to strict gender roles usually based on their biological sex. But that doesn’t mean that they always do.

Growing up, both my sister and I were tomboys, which is probably due in part to the fact that we have two very boyish brothers and parents who bought us mostly gender-neutral toys (we had tons of Legos). Working with kids, I see a lot of 21st century tomboys. They’re out there, even if they are not as celebrated by the media as they once were. Tomboys (and “sissies”) are everywhere, and their continued presence can hopefully help redefine what traits are actually “boyish” “girlish” or just human.

Hurrah for Tomboys! [Guardian]

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<![CDATA[Oh, Really? You Think That's A Good Picture Of Me? Are You Some Sort Of Underminer?]]> You know? I am not a vain person. That is the point of the story, that I am reflective of some sort of neo-tomboy trend, a rising class of women who have tempered and quelled and repressed those instincts for so many years now that the prophecy has been fulfilled, and really, you know? I just don't care. When it comes to prettyness, I try to live off the grid, is how I like to say it, and even on those rare occasions when I am tilting my face to the left so as to minimize the chance that the magnitude of my nose will overwhelm my face into something you might imagine inspired the whole Surrealist movement, it is always a goal of mine, to eschew the pursuit of beauty because, you know, it is just so very ephemeral, in stark contrast to this blog post, ha ha ha ha ha. But anyway, that notion is, after all, why I did not protest when you dragged me up to the roof, where the wind would whip my already, let's face it, stringy and unruly and overgrown mop of hair around to the point of homelessness, or when you decided to crouch down close to the ground when you shot me, which everyone knows is the least flattering angle known to humankind.

Everyone knows this because it is an unavoidable fact. I did not seek out this knowledge, but I cannot quarantine myself from the culture; I live in New York. I have posed in pictures with other girls only to receive a notification that I have been "tagged" somewhere on Facebook, and the girl tagged with my name on the picture is invariably the fattest one, even though I know — at least I think I know — that I am not the fattest. But then: the inevitable reaction. "Oh, that is such a good picture of you!" Really? What was it? The attractive hairdo? The way the flash made my skin appear more washed-out than normal? Whatever that face is that I am making because I don't know what sort of face to make when someone is standing there taking pictures of me for what seems like an eternity? So that face really is more attractive than my ordinary expression? So the gulf between my perception of my own appearance and the perception of others as to my own appearance is really so wide? This is troubling on many levels, for one thing because few people ever even see me when my appearance scores are not inflated by the fact they are drunk and in a softly-lit bar, but for another thing because it means that I have been walking around this town, eschewing consumerism and vanity and avoiding mirrors in an endeavor to be an unsuperficial person, when in reality I am simply a person with a delusional perception of her own appearance; a woman whose denial has made her somehow conceited.

It is either that, or some people actually think, "Wow! That's such a great picture of you!" is a compliment.

Well, it isn't. Unless your target is so unsuperficial as to actually believe herself to be as unattractive as she actually is. Oh wait, do you really think I'm that un-superficial? That's nice. On second thought, I guess it's not such a bad photo after all.

Urbane Tomboys [New York Observer]

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