Fools Club

Doctor of color

Not

Person of color doctor

“Selkie” by Annie Stegg

To the Celtic peoples, the sea that surrounded their lands was a place of wonder and mystery. Although their mythology as a whole is provocative, the tales relating to the sea are especially so. There are stories of selkies-seals who could shed their skins and take human form. “The seas around Orkney and Shetland harbor the shy Selkies or Seal-Faeries (known as the Roane in Ireland). A female Selkie is able to discard her seal skin and come ashore as a beautiful maiden. If a human can capture her skin, the selkie can be forced to become a fine, if wistful, wife. However, should she ever find her skin she immediately returns to the sea, leaving the husband to pine and die. The males raise storms and upturn boats to avenge the slaughter of the seals.” – Brian Froud and Alan Lee, “Faeries.”

These tales mostly come from the northernmost reaches of Ireland and Scotland – the Orkney and Shetland Islands in Scotland, and especially Co. Donegal in Ireland – where people make their living from the sea, fishing all day long. When one lives with the sea, one begins to uncover its mysteries. Most mythological sea creatures are considered hostile and malevolent, but it is perhaps the kind, mournful eyes of seals and sea lions which allowed them to become transformed by myth into these kindly beings. They do, at times, seem to understand the depth of human emotion as they understand the depths of the seas.

Pay attention, 2014 Mad Men: This little girl is holding a LEGO set. The LEGOs are not pink or “made for girls.” She isn’t even wearing pink. The copy is about “younger children” who “build for fun.” Not just “girls” who build. ALL KIDS.

In an age when little girls and boys are treated as though they are two entirely different species by toy marketers, this 1981 ad for LEGO — one of our favorite images ever — issues an important reminder.

You know what little girls cannot ever be, no matter what they do in life? A princess.

We sell real life careers to little boys, but to girls we sell lies and fantasy. Then we have the gall to say that girls ‘choose’ careers that earn them less, that girls just aren’t interested in STEM fields, that girls are stupid for pursuing frivolous nonsense, etc. etc.  

The thing that occurred to me about this ad, though - it’s not really breaking any gender barriers. The little girl in the picture? She’s dressed like a boy. She’s not wearing pink. Her hair’s not in ringlets. She hasn’t built what could obviously be called a princess castle. If you looked fast, you’d probably think she was a boy (until you noticed the braids).

So yeah, maybe this ad is saying, “Hey, girls can play with Lego too!” Except, not really. Because what it’s actually saying is, “Hey, girls who are actually tomboys can play with Lego too!”

Girls’ clothes in 1981 were not limited to various shades of pink and purple but ran the full spectrum of colors. They were also expected to stand up to the wear and tear of regular play (which in 1981 meant running around outdoors). Ruffles and the like existed but those clothes were fancy, meant for occasions or events like church and holidays, not everyday wear.

For example, here is a photo of my brother and i in 1983 wearing our everyday clothes

I am five years old here. At this time, my room was painted pink, i had what i called my princess dress, and my Barbie was the one that came with an all-pink wardrobe. At that time in my life i was absolutely NOT considered a tomboy; i was a typical little girl.

To your modern eyes, inundated with the sharply gendered clothing of today, the girl in the ad didn’t even read as a girl whereas in 1981, she did. And i’m wondering who is in the more constrictive box, girls then or girls now?

Also i saw these from the same campaign and they are adorable!

1. absolutely nothing in the entire game requires dexterity or quick reaction time. you can beat the game with no problems even if you have the reaction time of a shuckle

2. game mechanics based on categorization, things placed neatly into categories that are easy to memorize

3. there are multiplayer elements but the game itself? completely single player. no social interaction required to enjoy the hell out of this game

4. you are not only encouraged but expected to have empathy for and form an attachment to these virtual creatures that do not actually exist, which is very easy for an autistic person with hyperempathy to do

Now imaging you’re one of the 1.4% of computers are running Linux. This doesn’t mean you’ve got a windows machine with a virus, it doesn’t mean your computer is broken, it doesn’t mean it needs to get replaced with a more common operating system. It’s not quite as good at some things most people take for granted, but it’s significantly better at a bunch of other things. But if you have a problem with your computer, the vast majority of people won’t have any idea what you’re talking about. They’ll give advice for how to deal with a similar issue on their own computer, and it will be worthless. The only people with any idea what you’re going through are going to be on linux forums. And you can mostly muddle through all the things everybody else can do with improvisation and lots of WINE, but it sure would be nice if the devs of that video game you were looking forward to would like, acknowledge the existence of your demographic.

“You’re…different. I’ve never met a girl like you.”

She stares at him, hands stilling over her sword. “What?”

“All the girls in my village are so boring,” he says. “So focused on finding husbands that they don’t bother learning about the world.”

“Girls in your village aren’t allowed to own property or vote,” she says, somewhat incredulous.

He winces at her tone. Need she be so harsh? “Well…it’s not like they’ve ever needed to, we’re a very progressive village and I always vote in favor of their needs. You’re not like that though, you fight for your rights yourself.”

“They are fighting for their rights,” she says. She sets down her sharpening stone, a frown stretching across her face. “No voting, no property, no wages of their own to purchase necessities. Besides finding a kind husband, what else do you think they can do to find a good future?”

“Th-they could leave,” he says. He did not expect the conversation to go this way. He expected her to blush like she had when he complimented her sword skills. He finds himself oddly defensive. “The men in my village aren’t slavers. The girls can leave any time.”

She snorts. “On foot? Your village is a hard, three day ride from the nearest city and that’s by horseback. And, even if they made it, what skills do they have? What references? The risk is too high for any woman to leave, that’s as good as trapping them. The fact that it takes me holding a sword for your opinion of women to change just shows how small-minded you are.”

 He bristles, unable to refute her. “Look, I was just trying to pay you a compliment! There’s no need to attack me.”

“Trust me,” she says, standing when he moves to loom over her. They’re of near equal height and, if he was trying to intimidate her, he fails. “You’ll know it when I’m attacking you. This isn’t it.”

He doesn’t seem to hear her, flustered to be seeing her eye-to-eye. “Furthermore, I think I’d know what sort of girls I grew up with! They’re timid and lack a desire to explore the world.”

“The world you created for them doesn’t take long to explore,” she says. Her sword is bare in her hand. “Marry or descend into poverty. Bear an heir or be cast into poverty. Behave or be thrown into poverty. I was there for a week and figured it out. But,” she continues, looking him up and down, “maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. After all, you’ve lived there your whole life and you still haven’t figured it out.”

He splutters. “That’s not–there are other options–”

“When the revolution is done,” she says, coldly, “and your people are forced to give women rights, see how many stay and how many leave. See how many suddenly discover their wander-lust. See how many end up like me.”

She leaves him there and stalks off to the edge of camp. She leaves him there with his mouth opening and closing, and heart pounding in his chest.

She leaves him there with the unsettling realization that he doesn’t want the women in his village to end up being like her, so different and strong. Because, if they did, where would he be? Where would his home be?