LET GO LEGO: LEGO Friends Failed Attempt to Deconstruct Gender Norms

I have always rooted for LEGO. As my all time favorite toy, LEGOs taught me that I can build anything and bring my dreams to life. I want the company to be a beacon of hope for a more inclusive world, where young people of all unique identities will be inspired to imagine and create. With LEGO vowing to make products “free of gender bias and harmful stereotypes” in 2021, I thought their discriminatory targeted marketing would finally come to an end, specifically with their biggest cash cow, LEGO Friends. The product debuted in 2012, branded as LEGOs “for girls.” In the attempt to peak girls’ interest, the company designed the toy sets with copious amounts of pink and story lines of caring and domestic life rather than that of adventure. Not only did LEGO profit from utilizing these preexisting gender roles, but  perpetuated expectations of how girls must play differently. The year 2022 marks the 10 year anniversary of LEGO Friends and subsequently the special release of 8 new LEGO Friends sets. When coming across a commercial for the sets, I can say I was simultaneously extremely proud and extremely disappointed. 

The commercial starts off with showing a child of color, a child in a wheelchair, and an older character painting posters for a friendship festival. The video then presents the same scene made out of LEGOs. In the background, children sing “We are different…together forever!” The children laugh together and push the friend in the wheelchair to the festival. More children of varying gender presentations join as they visit food trucks with tacos and smoothies. The advertisement ends with two live actors playing with their corresponding LEGO figurines. 

Off the bat, there is a clear inclusion of more diverse characters than the original five girls of LEGO Friends. The characters differ not only in regards to gender, including more masculine presenting figurines, but in ability, race, and age as well. In chanting, “we are different together forever,” the commercial is clearly acknowledging this inherent distinctness of the characters’ physical characteristics while also equalizing their value, as friends and as LEGO builders. Likewise, the commercial does not portray the character in a wheelchair playing with others as someone to pity. The children’s laughs and bubbly demeanor make the scene not only feel normal, but fun and appealing. The young audience might look at these joyous characters and want to experience the same, want to be their friends, regardless of any physical differences. When characters of all genders, skin tones, and abilities are seen playing with the exact same set, the constructed norms that previously dominated LEGO Friends go out the window. The audience is no longer forced to believe that girls have to play a certain way, that boys can’t enjoy pink, or that children of color or with disabilities aren’t as likely to construct a beautiful LEGO masterpiece.  

The commercial ends with the words, “Colorful Together, Better Together, Different Together.” For being exclusively displayed on kids TV channels, it is a truly empowering message that defies the biased history of the company. However, upon further examination of the commercial, my happy bubble of pride for LEGOs new progressive ways popped.    

While the live actors were not unfairly categorized or stereotyped in the advertisement, the same cannot be said for the LEGO people. All of the female presenting figurines in the LEGO set itself are wearing some shade of pink, while their male presenting counterparts are not. This pattern in the design suggests that the commercial’s strive for gender equity was purely performative, as pink is still being used to maintain a binary that perceives girls as separate. Likewise, out of the upwards of 15 new characters, all of the female characters are wearing short skirts and shorts. The majority also wear crop tops and sleeveless tops, while the males wear long sleeve shirts and longer pants. Are these kids living in different climate zones or is LEGO getting off on revealing female figurines’ bodies? The most concerning aspect of the design is that LEGO also gave female characters breasts. Keep in mind that these figurines are meant to be children, like their target audience…who can be as young as 4-years-old. Gendered distinctions like these continue to normalize the sexualization of girls and embed into children’s minds that girls have to act, dress, and play differently. 

So when LEGO claimed children should be “Different Together,” did they really mean it? Are girls on the same playing field if they are still sexualized and marked by pink? Clearly, LEGO still has a lot of work to do. As the world’s largest toy company, they have the responsibility to evaluate how their products affect the self-perceptions of the impressionable youth. I will continue to root for the goal of empowering all children to create without restriction and in a way that affirms who they truly are as people, not as categories. Hopefully LEGO will do the same.  

LEGO Friends 2022 Commercial: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ubNasSqK2KM

Bound to be Visible

For https://www.autostraddle.com/ 

Do you ever see an ad and just think. . . an effort was made. Was it successful? Absolutely not. But the company tried. Is that always enough though? How close to a good amount of effort is close enough to accomplish the purpose? How far off does a company need to be to be ineffective? These are all questions I’ve been asking myself and my friends in regards to the “High Neck Longline Bra” from Girlfriend Collective that swept the media (well, swept my targeted ads on social media) a bit ago. This product is marketed as a supportive and compressive sports bra, but the caption on their Instagram ad, pictured below, is “Full coverage plus a layer of power mesh for extra support. *Wink*”. Yes, they wrote out the word wink in asterisks. No, I’m not sure why they didn’t just use a semicolon-parenthesis combo. 

Girlfriend Collective [@girlfriend]. Picture of Instagram ad for Girlfriend Collective’s High Neck Longline Bra. Instagram.

If you’re in a pretty intense sport, you might look at this bra and see a good supportive bra. If you’re somewhere in the genderqueer category, you can squint a little bit and see a potential binder alternative. Not only is it possible, but this realization already happened very visibly in the comment section. This realization has both positive and negative side effects, as I’ll explain later. Below are some of the comments on this ad, with names and profile pictures marked out for privacy. My personal favorites are “Binder 💞light💞” and “besties this is a binder”. 

Screenshot of comments on Girlfriend Collective’s Instagram ad. Girlfriend Collective [@girlfriend]. Picture of various comments on the ad above. Instagram.

These sorts of comments are harmless, or at least seem to be. Using sports bras as binders is not a new concept to people with breasts that do not identify as cisgender women. Buying actual binders can sometimes be inaccessible to people who might not be out to the people they live with. Many times, young people will bind unsafely with Ace bandages or sports tape instead of a binder to either avoid outing themselves or accommodate their financial situation. At times like these, it’s easier for someone to convince their parents to buy a sports bra over something marketed as a binder.

Does it actually work as a binder though? According to two of the TikToks I found, yes!! Isn’t that exciting? Accounts @salemnight (he/they) and @cowboinary (they/them) on TikTok both did reviews on the High Neck Longline Bra from Girlfriend Collective. Salem gave a holistic and visual review of how the bra looked in comparison to his other binders and bras as well as answering some common questions, while @cowboinary focused more on how the bra felt and compressed in comparison to their other binders. These TikToks I found after simply searching “girlfriend collective binder” can serve as an incredibly useful resource to young people or closeted people looking for binders that are accessible to them, as well as assuring people that it does actually work as a binder. 

Screenshot of comments on Girlfriend Collective’s Instagram ad. Girlfriend Collective [@girlfriend]. Picture of an exchange in the comments of ad pictured above. Instagram.

However, the visibility and accessibility of this product might also serve as a detriment to its usefulness in some ways. Above, with names and profile pictures yet again blocked out for privacy, you can see an exchange between two users in the comments section of this Girlfriend Collective ad on Instagram. One person asks “WHY would you want a HIGH neck bra??” Another user responds explaining that it’s a binder, marketed as a sports bra “so those who are in the closet or in an unsafe environment to come out in can get one to help with dysphoria without outing themselves and risking harm”. The first user responds positively in a reply. However, imagine for a second that you’re a young trans man, looking for a way to convince your transphobic parents to buy you a binder or allow you to get one without coming out. They think it’s an odd request, to get a high neck bra, go onto Instagram, ask this question, and get a response that could potentially force you into an uncomfortable situation. This may or may not happen, but it’s not ideal, right?

The rise of social media and marketing on these platforms has resulted in a multitude of both problems and benefits. Benefit: people are funny in the comments of what, to them, is an obvious secret binder. Problem: the discrete nature of the marketing can be ruined by people thinking it’s funny. Benefit: TikTok provides a platform where multiple people can assure you in different ways that a product is going to work how it says it will. Problem: TikTok provides a platform that brings so much attention to a certain product that even a month later, most sizes are sold out (including my own, sadly). These pros and cons don’t necessarily cancel themselves out, but it’s an interesting and complex issue that companies who aim to produce these discrete products should consider.

So. With this High Neck Longline Bra ad, I just think. . . an effort was made. Was it successful? In my mind, partially. It’s rather expensive for an improper binder at $42, where there are other less expensive options. However, the brand is incredible with size-inclusivity and sustainability. The company tried. Is that always enough though? How close to discrete is close enough to accomplish this subtlety? How far off from discrete does the company need to be to have people aware that this is a secret binder? Is the *Wink* enough, or should they have just put a semicolon and a parenthesis? Many of these questions are unanswerable, as we don’t yet have enough experience with these hurdles (I really do think they should’ve just used a little 😉 though). These questions and conversations are important, regardless of our lack of answers, as our goal as consumers and producers of media should always be to learn more and adapt to the times. While we have these conversations around discrete marketing, I’ll be watching my email carefully for an update on when the bra/binders come back into stock. For, uh, research.

Defining Mom

Proctor and Gamble’s (P & G) “Thank you Mom” commercial appeared in 2012 as part of the campaign that ran during and put narrative focus on the 2012 London Olympic Games. The commercial depicts the progress of athletes as they move from young children to Olympic competitors, supported along the way by their mothers. Five or six different mothers are depicted waking their young athletes early, making them different (assumedly culturally appropriate) breakfasts, and then delivering the children to various athletic practices. The mothers do it all again the next day, and the next, and the next. The athletes are shown in different stages of life and after trial and tribulation each arrives at his or her specific Olympic event. The mothers look on with tears of pride.

Proctor and Gamble is the parent company of over 60 brands that comprise mostly of household cleaning and beauty products. Dawn dish soap, Brawny paper towels, and Tide detergent are just a few of the company’s most-recognizable assets. Because of the company’s brands, we can assume the advertisement’s target audience is people who work in the home performing domestic tasks: whoever uses dish soap, paper towels, and laundry detergent most often will likely be the buyer of such products. The first (and most important) assumption the ad makes is that the Mother is the keeper of the home. The campaign called “Thank You Mom,” and the text at the end of the ad specifically addresses mothers. By targeting mothers with their ad, P & G assumes they are the primary users of P & G products.

The argument P & G addresses to its viewers runs along these lines: Domestic work leads to greatness; washing uniforms, and cooking meals allow children to become Olympic athletes. P & G ties greatness to working in the home. At this point in the commercial, it appears that P & G has made the assumption that all primary caregivers are women: no male caretakers appear in these video sequences, unless you could the fuzzy half-outline of a dad at a gymnastics meet.

The ad furthers this assumption when the words “Thank you, Mom” appear on the screen. All caretakers are women, and all Mothers are caretakers. The ad also assumes that the same member of the family is responsible for both the housework and taking care of children, a situation that does not hold for every family structure. One interesting consequence of the lack of male caretakers in the ad is the resulting lack of comment on caretakers’ relationship status. Are the mothers of the commercial straight, lesbian, or trans? Are the mothers perhaps single mothers? No assumptions are made in regards to this element of family life.

The ad assumes all caretakers are women, all Mothers are caretakers, and the caretaker performs all the housework. The argument is simple: domestic work (the kind facilitated by P & G products) leads to greatness. Just as mothers work tirelessly to support their children, P & G supports Moms (and so moms should buy their products).

Proctor and Gamble’s ad is an attempted intervention into the myth of the happy fifties housewife: yes, taking care of a child and taking care of housework is hard, says the ad; The text at the end of the video reads “The hardest job in the world is the best job in the world.” By acknowledging the difficulty of maintaining a household and raising children, the ad disrupts the image of the smiling mother who has lots of time for book-club and social gatherings. (Maybe my own image of junior-leaguers and country club cocktails is shaping my view of this commercial a little too much here.)

In The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan enters into Proctor and Gamble’s chosen world of the happy housewife. Friedan argues (contrary to P&G’s ad) that mothers and wives must stop searching for happiness among their husbands and children: happiness lies in fulfilling the dreams that are frustrated when intelligent women give up education and careers to stay at home with children. Friedan contradicts P&G’s message of motherly fulfillment through self-sacrifice, yet both Friedan’s and P&G’s arguments have the same oversights: both ads entirely ignore differences of race and class. (Though, admittedly, P&G does attempt to address the race issue by showing athletes and mothers of all nationalities).

bell hooks’ criticisms of Friedan in Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, hold for the P&G commercial. hook argues that Friedan’s narrative of the troubled 50’s housewife is the narrative only of the white, upper-middle class housewife; Friedan’s dilemma in no way parallels the experiences of lower class white women, or of women of color (from any class). Friedan assumes that all women (her assumed audience) are mothers with husbands and no careers. Similarly, Proctor and Gamble assumes that all mothers are stay-at-home moms, who take care of cooking and cleaning. The ad leaves no space for mothers who have to work (usually a class issue), or for mothers who choose to work, or for fathers who are the primary caregivers for their families.

According to the Proctor and Gamble, children who achieve great things have mothers that sacrifice; sacrifice to wake up early, sacrifice to drive children to practice, and sacrifice to do all the housework that allows their children to be great. Don’t worry, says the narrative of the ad, being a mother is the “best job in the world.” Plus, you’ll get thanked and acknowledged for all your hard work… if you sacrifice. How do career moms feel when they view this advertisement? Do they feel that they are being thanked for all their hard work? P & G’s “Thank you mom” ad supports existing stereotypical norms of American family structure (white, mother and father, 2.5 kids).

BUT WAIT. What if these are real athletes and these are their real mothers? Are we to fault companies for reflecting real-life realities? Or perhaps the commercial is not based upon real Olympic athletes, and is rather a strategic attempt to sell product to P & G’s target demographic. Is it wrong to assume that the large majority of P & G’s buyers are mothers who are also primary caregivers and housewives? The ad is undeniably touching, and on some level appeals to nearly everyone. Everyone, at some point, had a mother. Most people have had a caretaker who cared for them with the maternal affection demonstrated by P&G’s mothers. The analysis of a commercial is tricky business: do we evaluate commercials based on their effectiveness as advertisements, or based on their representation of the society to whom they are selling? The morality of the advertising world is a topic that will have to wait for another post…

This post, by the way, is dedicated to my own mother. Mom: sorry I haven’t done anything as impressive as win a gold medal. Nonetheless, #thankyoumom.

Works Cited

The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan, 1963

Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, bell hooks, 1984