Lesbian Moms Normalized on the Disney Channel

Sunday, television history was made as a gay couple appeared for the first time on a network that targets children viewers. The Disney Channel's sitcom Good Luck Charlie introduced a lesbian couple as the parents of one of toddler Charlie's playmates.

Except for the bit of history it makes, the scene was completely unremarkable.  Charlie's parents disagree over what is the name of "Taylor's mom", and this confusion is worked out when Taylor shows up with two moms.

And that's it. No awkwardness over the fact that they are a lesbian couple. No jokes that expose underlying prejudice or ignorance. Just, "Ohhh, Taylor has two moms," and life goes on. It is refreshing and wonderful in its normalcy.




This scene is exactly what one would expect from writers who have been instructed to make the show inclusive to LGBT families without addressing any controversies. It is a fair, responsible, and probably overdue form of inclusion if we consider that millions of American kids have LGBT parents, and at least half a million are being raised by lesbian and gay couples. (Numbers based on the 2012 Census.)

My kids don't need to watch LGBT inclusive television because they've lived these sort of scenes. We have friends and relatives who are gay couples, so it's kind of impossible to hide from our kids (not that we would.) And just today, in my 2-year-old's Gymfoolery class, twins showed up with their two moms. Then again, I live in a neighborhood known for its diversity and inclusiveness.

Sadly, religious fundamentalism disguised as family values is still alive and well in America, and dissenters will continue to taint these small human rights victories. We see it in this statement released by One Million Moms, which states:

Disney should stick to entertaining instead of pushing an agenda. Disney decided to be politically correct versus providing family-friendly programming. Disney has a choice whether to produce a program with certain fictional characters; the storyline could be re-written or changed. Conservative families need to urge Disney to exclude confusing topics that children are far too young to comprehend.

First of all, the Disney Channel needs some kind of agenda because they are taking on a certain amount of responsibility in creating entertainment for children. The Disney Channel has opted for an agenda that is not only inclusive, but in line with current shifts in mainstream values.

Then there's the old line about kids being "too young" to learn that *gasp* gay people exist! It's too "confusing" a topic for them to understand.

I've encountered this sentiment a lot in real life and online. Even the comments under After Ellen's article about this story includes:

i am 100 percent against this and i hate that they did this without some type of warning to the parents

And how about this breathtaking piece of cognitive dissonance:

We have loved this show since it started! although i am not against same sex parents, I however am outraged that they introduced them to our children without some sort of parental warning. when i decide to explain the different family matrix to my 9 year old it will be on my time and not by "Good Luck Charlie". I am now glad that the finale is coming because in my opinion this show will need some....

Implicit in such statements are that gay people should be in the closet whenever they are around other peoples' children, which is just cruel and absurd.

People who want to shield their kids from gays on television don't care that the real-world equivalents of Taylor's moms often seek out gay-friendly neighborhoods so they can avoid their kids losing friends, being mercilessly teased, or even beaten if they accidentally refer to their "moms" or "dads" at school. To such families, this small gesture of inclusiveness from a giant in children's entertainment offers a bright view of how far we've come, and where we're headed as a society.

To all those Nimbies out there, who claim to be tolerant of social change, but only if it's happening nowhere near them, so sorry if making LGBT families feel normal means you have to have an awkward conversation with your kid. No, wait, I'm not sorry.

Explaining homosexuality to little kids isn't complicated unless you make it complicated. Just say this:

You know how a man and a woman such as (name ANY happily married straight couple the kid knows) can fall in love, get married, and have kids? Well sometimes that happens with two men or two women, too. 

See how simple that is? It's almost verbatim what I told my kids as soon as they could talk.

If saying that makes you too squeamish, you have your mind in the gutter. It's your problem, not the Disney Channel's. Grow up and be more decent to your fellow human beings, because one of these days your kid might make a friend with two moms.

Another Jolly, White-Bearded Old Man

I am one of those people who flew into a rage after seeing this holiday season's controversial Toys R Us commercial. The one where a busload of  kids are tricked into thinking they are going on a wilderness field trip to learn about trees (which they apparently find boring), and are then told that really they get to run around a toy store and take home free stuff (this revelation causes them to explode in a fervor of maniacal joy.) If you haven't seen it, you can watch it now.

For those who just watched it for the first time, if your mouth is hanging open with shock and disgust, then you have responded the same way I did. The horribleness of this ad is so painfully obvious, I'm not going to get into it. Suffice to say, it reflects badly on our society that commercials such as this get made.

Work by one of my Wagner students, a sculpture of an Aardvark placed in a diorama

As a secular humanist mom, nature and science education are hugely important to me. My kid knows the names of all the captive animals at two nature centers. We have pet millipedes because after holding a giant, African millipede at a bug show last summer, they wanted to have some of their own. We're members of the Academy of Natural Sciences and attend all the preview parties and special events.

This year I'm an artist-in-residence at the Wagner Free Institute for Science. I work with science teachers to design and teach curriculum that integrates our two disciplines. During the Wagner's summer camp, I had inner city middle schoolers draw butterflies, cicadas, and other wildlife in nature journals and create mini-dioramas of animals in their natural habitats.

Hands-on experience of nature in parks and with rescued wildlife engages all our senses and makes it real.

Dude, that's an owl! 

Drawing from life is an exercise in really looking, rather than skimming over what is in front of our eyes.

Now that I get a really good, long look, geez, those talons are seriously scary looking! 

Well-presented information in a good book takes us deeper into understanding.

Owls are predators, descended from dinosaurs. They need those talons to swoop down on their prey.

Finally, creative illustrations transcend what can be seen by the naked eye or camera lens in any single moment. They have the potential to evoke an emotional response, which impresses on us the mystery and profundity of the natural world.

Click here.*

In the library last year, the kid and I came across Every Autumn Comes the Bear by Jim Arnosky. It's a quiet sort of book. When you really get down to it, all that happens is that a bear appears, hangs out for a bit, then goes to sleep in a cave. And yet we both fell in love. What got me was the subtle beauty of the watercolor illustrations. They were detailed, yet loose and painterly. Naturalistic, yet full of unexpected color choices.

In the months that followed, I kept coming across Jim Arnosky's name again and again.  My kid expressed interest in turtles, and we found All About Turtles. I pulled a book off the shelf because of its striking cover image of an osprey, and it turned out to be Arnosky's Thunder Birds. The kid got really into bugs, and we found Arnosky's Creep and Flutter. Talk about prolific!

Jim Arnosky popped up once again while I was looking for books for a workshop I teach. In the adult section of the library, among the field guides on trees, I came across Crinkleroot's Guide to Knowing the Trees. An adorable, gnome-like man on the cover charmed me instantly. Inside he introduced himself to me as "Crinkleroot", and said he was "born in a tree and raised by bees." I took the book home and immediately read it to my kid, who loved it. Not only that, now they knew the difference between coniferous and deciduous trees.

To our joy, we discovered a whole series of Crinkleroot books: guides to butterflies and moths, animal tracking, knowing the birds, giving back to nature, and more. We checked out as many as our public library kept in stock (which was most of the series).

Even though the books were basically doling out textbook information about their subjects, because Crinkleroot addresses his readers directly and is full of personality, the kid responded to him the same as they respond to Angelina Ballerina, or any of their favorite characters in literature. The first time we went to the Morris Arboretum and saw a real log cabin, she exclaimed with delight, "It's Crinkleroot's house!"

The only Crinkleroot books the kid found disappointing were the ones titled Crinkleroot's 25 (fill in the blank with "animals", "more animals", "mammals", "fish", and "birds") Every Child Should Know. In each of these books, Crinkleroot only appears at the beginning, and the rest of the pages are filled with profiles of animals listed. The reason the kid didn't like these books was, as they put it, "I want Crinkleroot to come with us."

Even though Crinkleroot is a delightful character in a series of informative and playfully illustrated books for children, you will not find Crinkleroot dolls, t-shirts, backpacks, or other hokey merchandise. He does not star in a cartoon on Nick Jr., the Disney Channel, or even PBS Kids. You will, however, find Crinkleroot books in most public libraries and many schools. On Crinkleroot's website you can purchase teaching leaves with art and science lessons, download free coloring pages of animals, and even listen to the Crinkleroot song.

I wish Crinkleroot were as familiar a literary character as Fancy Nancy and Arthur. He is a full fleshed-out personality who presents children with facts about the natural world in a way that is engaging and beautiful. And yet, when I have brought him up to educators at nature centers and the Wagner Institute, they have never heard of him. Just like that horrible Toys R Us ad, Crinkleroot's anonymity is perhaps indicative of our society's disconnect and disinterest in the natural world.

A side by side comparison of Crinkleroot and Santa Claus

Crinkleroot looks quite a bit like Santa Claus. White beard. Rosy cheeks. Friendly expression. They're both chubby and wear a lot of red. Crinkleroot might be shorter, but then in many historical incarnations, Santa is an elf or elf-like man of short stature. (Snopes has a good article on the history and myth surrounding Santa's appearance.)

Then there are the significant differences. Crinkleroot merely lives in a cabin in the woods with his pet snake Sassafrass, consorts with nature, and tells tall tales about being raised by bees. Santa on the other hand, lives in the far-off North Pole (a place covered with shifting ice water) and has magical powers: he can fly in a sled, visit all children in a single night, and spies on all children throughout the year.

A late autumn walk in the woods

If we must associate a jolly, white-bearded fictional character with gift-giving in December, how about purchasing some Crinkleroot books to add to the home libraries of the children in our lives? Instead of putting cookies out for a mythical elf, we can take a walk in the woods and note that the nakedness of the deciduous trees signifies winter and the time when bears sleep.

* The image was Owl In Flight, an oil painting by Jane Gough.

Kris Kringle, Kids, and Kandy

Miracle on 34th Street is the most anti-secular-humanist holiday film ever made.

Just stick with me on this for a bit.

The skepticism of Doris Walker, a bright, capable, divorced mother, should be viewed as a strength. Instead, it becomes apparent that this trait, along with her drive to instill a skeptical outlook in her daughter, comes from a place of personal pain and fear. The message is clear; skeptics, especially women skeptics, are callous people with trust issues, and in need of saving.

Fred Gailey, a handsome attorney, comes to Doris's and her daughter Susan's rescue. He's concerned about mom's refusal to teach Susan fairy tales. Fred wins Doris over with an incredible display of faith and friendship; he takes in Kris Kringle, the Macy's Santa who Doris has hired, and who claims to be the real Santa Claus. When Kris is threatened with being locked up in a mental institution, Fred successfully defends him in court, arguing that Kris is indeed the one and only Santa Claus.

Lip service is paid to deeper values, mostly by Fred (he is an attorney, after all):

It's not just Kris that's on trial, it's everything he stands for. It's kindness and joy and love and all the other intangibles.

But if you really listen to what Fred says, it's vague enough to be open to interpretation. Worse yet is the implication that belief in supernatural forces is required to experience awe, joy, or love.

Look Doris, someday you're going to find that your way of facing this realistic world just doesn't work. And when you do, don't overlook those lovely intangibles. You'll discover those are the only things that are worthwhile.

A holiday story with Santa that I like much better: Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas."

The fuzzy meaning of all Fred's flowery talk is, in the end, overshadowed by another message, one of self-absorbed materialism. Even after Doris is converted to a happier woman and in love with good ol' Fred, and Kris Kringle wins his freedom, Susan remains doubtful and depressed all the way up until when Kris Kringle gives her a house. (Technically Doris and Fred have to buy it. But Kris magically made Susan's dream house appear for sale at just the right time and place.) Not only is faith necessary to experience love, but to keep children happy, we must buy the stuff on their wish lists.

If all that wasn't enough, the film even justifies violence. Kris Kringle is on trial because he believes he's Santa Claus, right? Well, that and the fact that he thumped a psychologist, Granville Sawyer, on the head with his cane. Thumped him so hard that Sawyer is left with a goose egg so large he can't wear his hat. What did Sawyer do to deserve it? Kick a puppy? Smack a baby? No. He mis-diagnosed and mis-advised another character who had come to him for help. Apparently if you're righteous enough, you can skip diplomacy and appeals to proper authorities, and go right to smacking naughty people around.

Miracle on 34th Street is a product of a culture that champions faith, and regards doubt with contempt. A world where discreet forces of good and evil exist, and where virtue will be cosmically rewarded, while sin is punished. It achieves this by pulling on our heartstrings, and getting us to turn our brains off. The good guys Fred and Kris are respectively handsome and adorable, and both tremendously charming. The villain Mr. Sawyer is weaselly and ugly.

Santa Claus is one of modern, American society's sacred cows. To be more specific, convincing children that Santa Claus is real is thought to be virtuous. Just as Fred expresses dismay toward Doris for denying Susan fairy tales, real people express dismay when other adults refuse to play along with the Santa myth. As a school teacher, I knew to keep my mouth shut around the kids, and say, "Ask your parents."

Some people in my life have expressed concern that being denied Santa realness, my kids are missing out on an important part of their development. I'd love to know what we're preparing kids for when we knowingly blur the lines between reality and fantasy. To pray, instead of going out and doing something? To be complacent in the face of injustice in hopes of pie in the sky when we die?

It's offensive to accuse adults of lying to children about Santa. But what else do you call it when one person tells another person something they know to be false? A common defense is to insist that Santa is something figurative (read Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus), and then ignore that the kids are taking us literally.

And kids are taking us literally. Five year olds aren't musing over the warm, fuzzy feelings they associate with the jolly fiction of Santa Claus. They imagine a chuckling fat man in a factory full of elves.

Another argument is that it's not lying because young kids don't distinguish between fantasy and reality. Based on current understanding of children's cognitive development, that's wrong. Developmental psychologist Alison Gopnik said in an interview for Seed magazine:

Both Piaget and Freud thought that the reason children produced so much fantastic, unreal play was that they couldn't tell the difference between imagination and reality. But a lot of the more recent work in children’s theory of mind has shown quite the contrary. Children have a very good idea of how to distinguish between fantasies and realities. It’s just they are equally interested in exploring both.

Oh no, it's a monster!

In episode 188: Kid Logic of This American Life,  Gopnik mentions a specific experiment done by colleague Paul Harris. Harris had children imagine either puppies or monsters inside a box, and then observed the children's reactions to the box when left alone. Even though the children all agreed the box was really empty, up until the age of 6 or 7, the children who imagined a puppy tended to peek inside the box, while the ones who imagined a monster tended to move away from it. In his article Monsters, ghosts and witches: Testing the limits of the fantasy/reality distinction in young children, Harris concluded that,

Although young children are able to distinguish fantasy from reality, they do not necessarily understand that a fantastic entity cannot transform into a real one.

I suspect Spencer (my older child) sometimes wonders if Santa is real. They're still the age where, according to Harris's experiment, they doesn't understand that the fantastic cannot become real. When we talk about Santa, I don't lie. I tell our kids he's a lovable character like Dora.

Kids make their own magic. They don't need our help indulging in fantasy. They do need to know that they can trust us.

Santa is a regular character on one of Spencer's favorite shows, "Pucca". Here he is performing the dreidel song for an audition. 

Anyway, why this need to believe fictional characters are real to be enthralled and in awe by them? My kids enjoy Santa in the same way they enjoy Elmo. Spencer knows Elmo is a puppet.  In an interview with Rove McManus, Kevin Clash (the puppeteer of Elmo) said that children who come on the Sesame Street set,

...normally don't look at me. They just look at me like someone whose carrying around their favorite friend. Especially with kids, they keep their imaginations.

The magic isn't that the kids believe the puppets are alive. They know it's a show, but it's such a high caliber performance that suspension of disbelief is easy and natural.

We don't need to have faith to experience love and awe. We simply need to be human.

In the final scene of Miracle on 34th Street, we see that Fred and Doris didn't have faith in Kris after all. Upon seeing Kris's cane in the corner of the house, Fred and Doris fall silent, their expressions deadly serious. In a sober tone of voice, Fred remarks (referring to his victory at trial), "Maybe I didn't do such a great thing after all." The implication is that Kris never needed saving because he truly is a supernatural being.

"Lovely intangibles" aside, in the end, what is most titillating about the film is the idea that Kris Kringle, a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood person, might be the real Santa Claus, imbued with real magical powers. Fred's virtue by itself isn't enough. Virtue is instead a means of getting mystical forces on our side so they'll step in and help us. To put it another way, be good and you'll get to heaven (or at least fall in love and get a pretty, little house in the burbs.) Ah, yes, viewers' escape from reality is complete.

CAUTION: Trivial entertainment, like candy, should be consumed in moderation and not confused with stuff that's actually good for us.

My dirty little secret is that I love the film Miracle On 34th Street. I get a jolt of satisfaction when Kris Kringle thumps that weasel Sawyer. I'm swept away by Fred's good looks and charm, impressed by Doris's poise, and amused by Susan's deadpan delivery set against Kris Kringle's boyish charm. I feel a little thrill every time those giant sacks of letters to Santa from the USPS are poured over the cranky judge's bench. As I write this, exhausted after a long day of work and watching after the kids, all I want to do is put on a Snuggie and curl up on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa and watch this film. Cinematic candy, yum!

But hey, at least I don't fool myself into thinking the message of Miracle on 34th Street is anything other than feel-good bullshit.

And I don't tell my kids that Santa is real.

(If you'd like to read even more of my rantings about Santa Claus, last year I wrote, Dumping the Santa Myth.)