First published in the Tri Town Transcript Feb 11, 2016
By Esther C. Baird
Well, it’s time for another installment of Shopping with a Tween. Someday I’ll look back, like I do with my columns about diapers and potties from 10 years ago, and wonder what my deal was.
Why was I so perplexed by the Tween stage? But for now, it’s like a law of nature has been discovered in my house. What if you discovered that gravity worked sideways . . . inside your house!? Wouldn’t you be totally consumed with trying to figure it out? Now pretend it’s your own offspring who you’ve raised lo’ these many years . . . and she falls sideways!!
In this round, we found ourselves shopping for middle school sports team clothing for practice days. Apparently random athletic socks and gym sneakers are totally not OK. We needed girl’s (actually women-sized) basketball sneakers and socks.
The implications were endless. Every single thing that ever mattered came down to this pair of shoes and socks. What would people think, how would they react, and what extremely emotional, semi-hysterical feelings might arise if we couldn’t find what we were looking for!?
And I mean, that was just me, the mom of the tween. I can’t fathom what was going on in her head – – she’s a tween. Plus, I was too busy losing my own mind over the shocking inequality between what the major sports stores sold for boy’s basketball footwear, and what they sold for girl’s.
I’m supposed to shop with my tween AND fight for gender equality?? At the same time!? That pathway leads to madness, I know because I marched down it. You know what’s at the end?
Not specialty basketball socks or shoes for girls.
A male clerk helpfully told me, “just buy her a pair of men’s shoes, but in a size too small.”
Across the street at the other big sporting store I found a female clerk, or rather she found me, as I was rummaging through the sock wall dedicated to selling just basketball socks.
“I’m trying to find women’s socks, but so far I only found one pair and they are apparently made for elves.” I held up a tiny pair of pink basketball socks. “My daughter wears a women’s size 9,” I explained.
The clerk sighed. “Yeah, you know what I do for my daughter, I just buy her the . . .”
I interrupted. “Please don’t say you buy men’s socks but a size too small!? Look at them,” I gestured at the wall, “they are clearly masculine in cut and form! My daughter doesn’t need pink Barbie socks, but I mean a little green or neon blue, or even a tag that says ‘women’s socks’ would be great.”
The clerk nodded. “I know. We do carry a limited selection of women’s socks but they sell out right away.”
“But why!? Girls have been playing basketball since forever, this is not exactly new!!” She nodded. “It’s just always been that way.”
It wasn’t her fault. But really? It’s always been that way?? Somebody cut me a gigantic basketball shaped break. And, Regular [calmer] Readers, I do know that I can order my daughter shoes and socks online (though check it out, even online, there is a glaring inequality), but . . . I shouldn’t have to.
My daughter was cool about it. “It’s OK, these socks are fine.” She pointed to a pair of boring black and white socks.
I huffed. “Those are boring! Plus, I don’t want just fine! I want funky socks that say you are proud to play basketball AND be a girl!”
I might have rolled my eyes.
And it became apparent that much of the problem of Shopping with a Tween was remembering to act like a grown up myself. Yes, the retail world is archaic when it comes to girl’s basketball.
But it’s possible I’d fallen prey to the law of sideways gravity, while, in fact, my daughter was actually growing up.