I was never a doll person. While other little girls were happily brushing Barbie’s hair, I was racing Hot Wheels cars across the kitchen floor and reenacting epic battles with my Star Wars action figures. It wasn’t that I actively rejected dolls—I just never felt drawn to them. What fascinated me were the sleek designs of Matchbox cars, the intricate details and the thrilling adventures I could create with my plastic heroes.
But growing up in the late 70’s/early 80’s, toy aisles were strictly divided. There was no mistaking the boy section from the girl section. The boy aisle had the cool stuff—cars, action figures, spaceships, adventure sets—while the girl aisle was a sea of pink, filled with dolls, play kitchens, and frilly accessories. I didn’t fit neatly into the mold of what a little girl was “supposed” to like, and that realization hit me hard at my friend Ryan’s seventh birthday party.
At the end of the party, all the boys were given a shiny new Hot Wheels car as a party favor, while the girls received small dolls. I remember clutching that doll in my hand, my stomach sinking. I wanted the car. Why couldn’t I have the car? But I was a shy kid, too afraid to speak up, too afraid to say, “Hey, I like those better.” So I went home with a toy that felt foreign in my hands, a reminder that I was somehow different, even if I couldn’t quite understand why.
I tried to push down that feeling of isolation, but it followed me. When I saved up my money to buy a Star Wars action figure; one I had been dreaming about. I was both excited and anxious. My parents encouraged independence, so they told me that if I wanted it, I had to buy it myself. That meant walking up to the cashier, speaking to an unfamiliar adult, and completing the transaction on my own. For a child with anxiety and an intense fear of talking to strangers, this was a monumental task.
With my heart pounding, I placed my prized Empire Strikes Back action figure on the counter, ready to claim what was mine. But instead of a simple exchange, I was met with a condescending, puzzled expression from the cashier.
“Why are you buying a toy made for a boy?”
The words stung. My excitement deflated instantly, replaced with shame. I didn’t know how to respond. Was I doing something wrong? Was I weird? The comment burrowed into my mind, reinforcing a growing sense that my interests were somehow unacceptable. I mumbled something, took my action figure, and hurried out of the store. But that interaction stayed with me.
I was lucky, my parents and grandparents never made me feel like I had to play with dolls. Sure, they tried buying them for me at first, but when they saw my enthusiasm for toy cars and Star Wars, they embraced it. They bought me Hot Wheels and action figures, and I built up an impressive collection, carefully stored in a Darth Vader-shaped carrying case. I still have them today, and they remain some of my most treasured childhood possessions.
Looking back now, 43 years later, I’m relieved to see the toy industry making strides toward breaking down gender stereotypes. More parents are open to their sons playing with dolls and their daughters playing with cars. It’s heartening to see kids being given the freedom to explore what they truly enjoy, rather than being pushed into predetermined boxes.
But we still have a long way to go.
Every time I travel for work, I pass by a toy store in my local airport, and that old feeling creeps up again. Why? Because despite all the progress, there is still an unmistakable divide. One wall, boldly labeled BOYS, lined with miniature Hot Wheels cars. The opposite wall, labeled GIRLS, stocked with Barbies in every shade of pink.
Maybe things haven’t changed as much as I’d hoped!
I’m grateful for the progress, but I’m also reminded of how deeply ingrained these stereotypes still are. And I think of all the kids today who might feel the same way I did—shy, uncertain, wondering why they don’t fit the mold. I hope, as time goes on, we continue to challenge these outdated ideas and let kids be exactly who they are. Because no child should ever feel like they’re wrong for loving the things that make them happy.
Mommy’s Lesson- My daughter’s life had recently been turned upside down when I accepted an assignment to train teachers for an entire week at a local school district. This was a change for our family of three because I normally work a few days out of each month (rarely back to back days) and am blessed to spend the majority of the time as a stay at home mommy. I knew working for an entire week was going to challenge us but the work was local, guaranteeing I would be home every night and the generous pay would help our family financially.
I used acrylic paint that easily washed off of Lillian’s hands. She loved creating the prints and enjoyed putting her hands in the paint. There was plenty of space on the paper for toddler sized hands. Tips and tricks for creating fabulous prints is included at the front of the calendar.
Noteworthy Mommy 