How a Young Feminist Got Played

Our youngest, a seventh grader, had to interview the hubs and me as part of a school project. His questions included the normal stuff, “Where do you work?” “Where did you grow up?” etc.

But he also inquired about our favorite childhood toys. Oh the nostalgia of pondering what entertained you as a kid. And having your child assigned to ask about such things gives parents an excuse to prattle on about the good ‘ole days while the offspring are “forced” to act interested.

I thought for a moment, mentally scrolling through my memory banks in search of favorite toys. There was the Baby Alive that ate real baby food and soiled real diapers, that is until my cousin jammed a crayon down its throat. Baby Alive gagged on this early introduction of solid food and died soon thereafter. Plus, my box of 64 colors was permanently short a blue violet.

R.I.P. Baby Alive

R.I.P. Baby Alive

Then there was my Barbie Star Traveller Motor Home that I used to take Barbie pretend camping. But having actually lived in trailer park made a toy motor home seem less aspirational than say, a Barbie Dream House.

Barbie Star Traveller

Barbie Star Traveller

Later in life, the hubs and I would camp quite a bit, about which another cousin once remarked, “You spend your whole life working to not be poor. But isn’t camping like pretending you’re poor and calling it a vacation?” Never thought of it that way, but I suppose she makes an interesting point.

So I guess, when pressed, I’d have to say my favorite childhood toy was my Bionic Woman action figure. Remember Lindsay Wagner as Jaime Sommers on the 1970s television show, The Bionic Woman? That show was my first introduction to the notion that women could be badass; that women could not only fight their own battles, but also could be counted on and called upon to help others who are in dire straights.

A toy more badass than Barbie.

A toy more badass than Barbie.

As someone who was raised by a single mother whose heroic adventures included juggling childcare while going to college, becoming a registered nurse, obtaining a driver’s license near the age of 30 and buying a house all on her own, it’s no wonder I was more drawn to the idea of a bionic woman than a fashion model who pretended to be poor.

My Bionic Woman action figure also came with some sort of high-tech computer station play set. It had these rubber cables that plugged into my toy’s bionic arm and leg. It had charts and graphs that I would imagine displayed readings of her increasing levels of strength. I proudly told my son that this beloved childhood toy of mine was pretty much a pioneering female Project Lead the Way education project.

But then, he did a Google search to see for himself if such a toy existed. The search revealed that the bionic play set I was so fond of and believed to be a groundbreaking toy for aspiring young feminists everywhere was actually called the Bionic Beauty Salon. What the…?!

You've got to be kidding me.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

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