Change Your World

“Life can be much broader, once you discover one simple fact, and that is that everything around you that you call ‘life’ was made up by people that were no smarter than you. And you can change it, you can influence it, you can build your own things that other people can use. Once you learn that, you’ll never be the same again.”
— Steve Jobs

Monkeying Around

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with the He-Man and the Masters of the Universe cartoon. I had nearly all of the action figures, as well as a plastic Castle Grayskull. My best friend Phillip, conversely, had Skeletor's Lair, and our parents would often kindly help us drag those back and forth whenever we went to each other's houses to play.

At that point in the early 1980's, He-Man figures were about as stereotypically 'boy' as toys got – enough so that He-Man creator Filmation subsequently spun out the parallel She-Ra: Princess of Power to drive similar sales of toys to little girls.

Some of my other toy choices – from GI Joes to Tonka trucks and Matchbox cars – were similarly gendered. Yet I also often carried them around the house in my mother's old patent-leather purse, perhaps a bit less of a gender-normative choice. As my parents were good Baby Boomer Bay Area liberals, they did everything they could to avoid reinforcing sexist or gendered ideas about toys, or careers, or anything else.

Thirty-some years later, it seems that concern has spread well beyond the Palo Alto "quiche & Volvo" set. I see most of my parent friends around the country – and, indeed, even my own brother a few blocks away from me with his 18-month-old son Dylan – similarly trying to be thoughtful about the potentially sexist messages they send to their children. (You can spot a similar national-level concern in the plot of the last half-dozen Disney films: “the princess doesn't need to wait for a prince to rescue her; she can rescue herself!”) Yet, unavoidably, nearly all of those kids seem to eventually begin to steer themselves towards certain stereotypical toy-sets nonetheless.

Obviously, there's a large role for culture here – and even for the messages parents unconsciously send to their children. But there is, at the same time, a reasonable 'nature plus nurture' question: are there ways in which some aspects of things like gendered toy-choice might be more deeply biologically engrained?

I was thinking about that recently, in the holiday toy-buying run-up, and was therefore glad to discover two great studies in the world of our close primate relatives.

First, in 2009, a research team led by Janice Hassett of the Yerkes National Primate Center at Emory reported on experiments in which they followed toy preferences in a group of 34 juvenile rhesus monkeys. One by one, they let the monkeys go into an outdoor play area that had both a “masculine” toy (eg., a truck, a car, a construction vehicle) and a “feminine” toy (eg., a Raggedy-Ann doll, a koala bear hand puppet, a teddy bear), and camera-tracked the behaviors exhibited.

Long story short, the monkeys closely paralleled human children, with male rhesus monkeys clearly preferring wheeled toys over plush toys (using them more frequently, and for longer duration), and with female rhesus monkeys spending more time with the plush toys (though also, like human girls, spending substantial time with the wheeled ones; research has long shown girls are more open to ‘cross-gender’ toys than boys are).

Hassett’s team concludes there appear to be “hormonally organized preferences for specific activities that shape preference for toys.”

That lines up well with a parallel paper from Sonya Kahlenberg of Bates and Richard Wrangham of Harvard, which followed the Kanyawara chimpanzee community in Uganda for 14 years, cataloguing how they interacted with play objects. They observed that juvenile female chimps would carry around small sticks for hours at a time while they engaged in other daily activities (like eating, sleeping, and walking) in a manager suggestive of rudimentary doll play. While the same chimps used sticks as tools for specific purposes, the researchers were unable to discern any practical reason for the doll-stick carrying.

Ultimately, and after observing a bunch of related behavioral changes (i.e., females stopped stick-carrying when they had real babies), they concluded that “sex differences in stick-carrying are related to a greater female interest in infant care, with stick-carrying being a form of play-mothering (i.e. carrying sticks like mother chimpanzees carrying infants).”

So, there you go. As with any other topic involving gender, genetic disposition, etc., this one’s fraught with caveats, dangers in over-generalization, etc.

But, if nothing else, I do feel a little less guilty about buying Dylan an awesome Chanukah-gift truck set.

(Though, if they can find it somewhere in a box in their garage, I’d also suggest my parents dig out that old purse. It would be totally perfect for carrying around those trucks.)

2016-12-18

“Art should be like a holiday: something to give a man the opportunity to see things differently and to change his point of view.” – Paul Klee

Save Christmas

Way back in 1998, the Cacophony Society, an anarchic group of neo-dadaist pranksters (slogan: “you may already be a member!”), brought their annual December event to NYC.

They called it SantaCon, and billed it as a "not-for-profit, nonpolitical, non-religious demented Santa Claus convention.”

I attended that first NYC SantaCon, wherein about two hundred of us in cheap Santa suits walked Fifth Avenue, caroling badly, and handing out candy canes and good cheer to the children (and adults) who were inevitably thrilled to stumble across a giant roving pack of jovial Clauses.

But somewhere in the nearly two decades since, things went badly wrong. What started as cheeky performance art metastasized into, as the Village Voice described it, "a day-long spectacle of public inebriation somewhere between a low-rent Mardi Gras and a drunken fraternity party.”

Or, as Gothamist summarized, “SantaCon steadily devolved from cleverly subversive to barely tolerable to 'time to lock yourself in your apartment for the day.'"

This past weekend, when Jess and I popped out of a subway in Union Square, inadvertently deep in the midst of SantaCon 2016, I couldn’t help but cringe. While I’d been proud to attend that first event, the drunken mayhem going on all around us just made me embarrassed for everyone involved.

What happened? In short, New Jersey and Long Island. Per the LA Times, "some see SantaCon as a way for people who live in the suburbs to come to the city and ruin the weekend.” Indeed, at least by visual stereotype, this year’s SantaCon crowd was about as bridge-and-tunnel as you could possibly get.

In short, this is why we can’t have nice things. Though the weekend experience does lead me to a small proposal for fellow snotty New Yorkers: perhaps, instead of fighting against Trump’s wall, we should just be lobbying him to build one a little closer to home.

2016-12-09

“If you live for weekends or vacations, your shit is broken.” – Gary Vaynerchuk

Tortoise, Redux

Earlier today, I re-stumbled across the excellent and exceedingly timely “The True History Of The Hare And The Tortoise,” Lord Dunsany’s 1915 retelling of the well-worn story.

In Dunsany’s version, the race between the two is organized by the other animals, equally split in their beliefs that the Hare (“the swifter of the two because he had such long ears”) or the Tortoise (“anyone whose shell was so hard as that should be able to run hard too”) might prevail.

The Tortoise, in particular, draws an enthusiastically supportive crowd:

And “run hard” became a kind of catch-phrase which everybody repeated to one another. “Hard shell and hard living. That’s what the country wants. Run hard,” they said.

Indeed, run hard the Tortoise does. Whereas the Hare, struck by the overwhelming idiocy of the entire competition, simply bows out:

The Hare ran on for nearly three hundred yards, nearly in fact as far as the winning-post, when it suddenly struck him what a fool he looked running races with a Tortoise who was nowhere in sight, and he sat down again and scratched.

“Run hard. Run hard,” said the crowd, and “Let him rest.”

“Whatever is the use of it?” said the Hare, and this time he stopped for good. Some say he slept.

There was desperate excitement for an hour or two, and then the Tortoise won.

Which, of course, is exactly the vindication the Tortoise’s vigorous supporters had hoped for:

“Hard shell and hard living: that’s what has done it.” And then they asked the Tortoise what his achievement signified, and he went and asked the Turtle. And the Turtle said, “It is a glorious victory for the forces of swiftness.” And then the Tortoise repeated it to his friends. And all the beasts said nothing else for years. And even to this day, “a glorious victory for the forces of swiftness” is a catch-phrase in the house of the snail.

Touche.

Though, as Dunsany concludes, this true version of the tale isn’t widely known, because “very few of those that witnessed it survived the great forest-fire that happened shortly after.”

It came up over the weald by night with a great wind. The Hare and the Tortoise and a very few of the beasts saw it far off from a high bare hill that was at the edge of the trees, and they hurriedly called a meeting to decide what messenger they should send to warn the beasts in the forest.

They sent the Tortoise.

It could be a long four years.