"...there's my rabbit, Bob, and his bunny wife Bob"

There was a time I naively assumed that I wouldn't have to worry about sexism in my child's books until at least story books, maybe not even until chapter books. Surely board books, written to start reading to infants so young they only understand the rhythm and rhyme of the words, would be immune!

That naivete lasted until maybe five minutes after the Boychick got his first book.

The truth is even board books, even modern board books, are rife with sexism, heterosexism, racism, and of course, what's a good word, cisgenderism? (One can't even call it transphobia, for it's more the complete lack of acknowledgment that gender isn't always obvious, simple, and binary. Transphobia might be a step up.)

The title for this post came from the usually innocuous Sandra Boynton, in her book titled Fifteen Animals, a recent gift from beloved relatives and fellow Boynton fans. That line alone would be enough to make my head explode (the male bob is referred to as a rabbit, the female with the diminutive bunny; she is of course a "wife", not an independent woman rabbit nor even an interdependent but nonsexist "spouse"; and he possesses her as his wife), but it's only one of the offensive examples on the Boychick's library -- which itself has been chosen largely by us to be as nonsexist as possible.

A recent disappointment was Papa, Papa. I had heard good things about Mama, Mama from the AP community (mentions of nursing and cosleeping, also things lacking in children's books in general) -- and apart from one weird and one schmaltzy page it isn't too bad -- and since I try never to buy a mother-centric book without getting a corresponding father-centric book, we ordered Papa, Papa as well, with moderately high hopes.

Papa Papa, it turns out, is basically one long exploration of fathering stereotypes. Father as home builder, wise and worshiped, leader, teacher of howling (in a patriarchal context, this can stand for teacher of how to be outspoken, assertive, and possessive; how to trumpet aggression), and promoter of (and proud of) independence are some of the highlights. The "best" pages are the first and last, where Papa teaches little ones to sing, and where the narrator feels "warm and safe" with Papa (in the context of playing "peekaboo"), but nowhere is there an image of father-as-nurturer, or father-as-caretaker (as in Mama, Mama, which features Mama cleaning and feeding the narrator). The Man's take on it is the Mama, Mama book is about the mother/child as a unit, with mother as safe base, and exploring the world around WITH each other, whereas in Papa, Papa, there is separation between the father and child, with the father teaching and giving TO the narrator.

Another example is Sam Loves Kisses (bought for the Boychick by well-meaning friends because of the lovely last page featuring a snuggly family bed), in which the "mommy" gets "a sweet kiss" and is depicted (in a dress, though devoid of feminine curves) as busy in the kitchen, and the "daddy" (bepantsed, of course) gets "an airplane kiss", and plays with Sam to distract him so the mother can cook -- because, of course, the man couldn't take a turn cooking, nor could he distract the child with nurturing or cuddles. We'll not even get in to the cars covering Sam's bedspread.

I could go on: there's City Babies, in which there are mother animals but no fathers (I will allow that the non-human animal kingdom is factually sex-biased in parenting, but the authors could have used examples from the avian world -- there were three bird pages in there already); in Daddy Cuddles, an otherwise excellent book, the human father "cuddles" his baby on his back, demonstrating once again that men can be playful (piggy back) but not nurturing (in arms); of the several books that depict one parent and a child, only one has a father instead of a mother (the hippopotamus of Sandra Boynton's The Bellybutton Book).

So we are confronted with what to do. We have already chosen "the best of the bunch", at least of what we can find in stores around here, and if we wanted more books with fewer -isms and more diversity, we'd have to special order all of them (I actually tried to order And Tango Makes Three for the Boychick for Yule, but was informed it was unavailable in board book at this time), and I wouldn't even know where to look. We don't wish to censor books, but neither do we want to immerse him at so young an age (or ever!) in a sexist, heterosexist mindset, when his opinion on the world is just being formed.

For many of our books, we have settled on alternate readings that offend us less (we switch who gets which type of kisses and who is in the kitchen in Sam Loves Kisses, and say "...there's my rabbit, Bob, and her bunny partner Bob"). But when others come to read to him, they read it the "straight" (pun intended, of course) way. Will he look at others funny (or correct them!) when they read it "wrong? ...and would that be "bad"? If we don't read exactly what is on the page, will we damage or delay his reading, if he's still using these books in a few years when he's at that stage? If we cross out the irritating bits and write in our versions, are we teaching him censorship and book defacement are OK? Or would we be merely recording and commemorating our family's unique stories? How do we navigate these waters?

How do you?