Susan Swartz

Some of the old pink is the new pink
My granddaughter and I followed a small parade of three-year-old
girls into the community center. Two men walked past and one asked,
“What’s with all the pink tights?”
Basketball practice, I said and grinned.
Nope, it was ballet class. Actually it’s called play ballet,
more about jumping around than grand jete. Participants were
encouraged to wear dance gear which meant eight little girls showed
up in black and pink leotards and tights.
Will there be boys, my granddaughter had asked. Hopefully, I
said, though I anticipated the all girly-girl crowd. It did,
however, give me an opportunity to advance the feminist agenda and
talk about how both men and women make wonderful ballet
dancers.
Lately the granddaughter has been dividing her world into by
what boys do and what girls do. Boys play dinosaur, girls play
dress-up, she has explained. I could have gotten into a big
philosophical discussion on that one because I happen to know that
little boys do play dress up. Did she not recall that one of her
best friends, a three-year-old boy, dressed up as a dancing
construction worker for Halloween, wearing both a tutu and a tool
belt?
But I didn’t want to burst her pink bubble on this day. She kept
saying, “This is so exciting,” as she pushed her feet into magic
slippers the color of seashells and joined the others in a gallop
around the room.
When they stopped the teacher showed them how to put their heels
together and open their feet out like a book and they all did a
perfect ballet first position.
I know that one. When I was a little girl I took ballet class. I
dropped out because I was afraid of the teacher who never smiled
and carried a big ruler, but I was in it long enough to twirl and
leap on stage and wear something pink covered with sequins.
Many mothers of my generation, in an attempt to eradicate
harmful gender stereotypes, continued to offer our little girls
ballet but also added soccer. We dressed them in overalls and gave
them tool kits and said it was fine to get messy. It’s surprising
to now be a grandmother and see how some stereotypes defy
eradication.
For the last few weeks the granddaughter’s go-to-color has been
pink. When she was born her mother encouraged a rainbow of fashion
choices and asked well-wishers to please cool it on the pink. The
three-year-old has a varied wardrobe, but now that she’s dressing
herself, she most days looks like a cupcake in sneakers.
Still and all, she knows how to throw a ball, not like a girl or
a boy, but like a kid from a family of ball-throwers. She pounds
nails and makes things at a kids workshop put on by the
neighborhood hardware store. She plays with dolls and she knows
what to do with a soccer ball and a wiffle ball. She has a play
kitchen for creating play scones and tea. And a softball glove — a
pink one. She also has a new baby brother whom I’m thinking might
be a great addition to the play ballet troupe in another three
years.
Parents and grandparents were asked to wait outside until the
last five minutes of dance class. We then got to watch the teacher
invite each girl to choose a long, billowy scarf for her final
fling around the room.
The first little girl requested a pink scarf. The second little
girl said pink. My ballerina thought for a moment and said orange.
I gave her a private power salute.
Susan Swartz is an author and local journalist. You can also
read her at www.juicytomatoes.com and hear
her Another Voice commentary on KRCB-FM radio on Fridays. Email is


su***@ju***********.com











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