Each generation reshapes the definitions of masculinity and femininity, vividly reflecting these shifts in children’s clothing. Take, for instance, young Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Captured in an 1884 photograph at just 2½ years old, he sits poised on a stool, his white skirt neatly arranged on his lap, his hands delicately holding a hat adorned with a marabou feather. His shoulder-length hair and shiny patent leather shoes complete the ensemble.
This image might seem surprising or even unsettling to modern eyes, yet in 1884, it was perfectly normal. Back then, social norms dictated that boys wore dresses until age 6 or 7, marking the milestone of their first haircut. At the time, Franklin’s attire wasn’t gendered – it was simply practical and appropriate for young children.
Fast forward to today, and there’s a strong cultural insistence on immediately identifying a baby or child’s gender at first glance. As Jo B. Paoletti, a historian at the University of Maryland and author of Pink and Blue: Telling the Girls From the Boys in America, explains, modern parents often use visual cues like a pink headband on a bald infant to communicate their child’s gender.
The Shift Away from Neutral Clothing
So, how did we get here? How did children’s clothing evolve from gender-neutral styles to the strictly defined pink-and-blue dichotomy? According to Paoletti, it’s a fascinating tale of cultural shifts and practicality gone awry.
For centuries, children of both sexes wore simple white dresses until they were around 6. White cotton was easy to clean – practical for babies and toddlers prone to spills and messes. However, practicality gave way to a growing societal anxiety about the impact of clothing on a child’s identity. “What was once a matter of convenience – dressing babies in bleachable white – turned into a fear of, ‘If I dress my child in the wrong clothing, it might somehow impact their sexuality or identity,’” says Paoletti, who has spent three decades researching the cultural implications of children’s clothing.
The Emergence of Pink and Blue
The journey toward gender-specific clothing wasn’t straight or quick. Pink, blue, and other pastel shades emerged popular for babies in the mid-19th century. However, these hues weren’t immediately tied to gender. It wasn’t until just before World War I that the association of pink with girls and blue with boys began to take shape – and even then, it wasn’t universally accepted.
For instance, a 1918 article in the trade publication Earnshaw’s Infants’ Department declared, “The generally accepted rule is pink for boys and blue for girls.” The reasoning? Pink was seen as a bold, intense color befitting boys, while blue was considered soft and delicate, ideal for girls. Other sources offered entirely different explanations, such as matching colors to hair or eye color – blue for blonds and pink for brunettes, blue for blue-eyed babies, and pink for brown-eyed ones.
By 1927, Time magazine published a chart listing color recommendations for boys and girls based on prominent U.S. department stores. Interestingly, stores like Filene’s in Boston and Marshall Field in Chicago suggested pink for boys, highlighting the lack of consensus at the time.
The Establishment of Modern Gender Norms
The now-familiar color assignments – pink for girls and blue for boys – didn’t solidify until the 1940s. Manufacturers and retailers, responding to consumer preferences, played a significant role in cementing these norms. “It could have easily gone the other way,” notes Paoletti.
The baby boom generation grew up fully immersed in these gender-specific clothing norms. Boys were dressed to mimic their fathers, while girls wore outfits styled after their mothers. Dresses were a staple for girls in school, although unadorned styles and practical tomboy clothing were also deemed acceptable for play. The rigid distinctions established during this era laid the groundwork for the ingrained gender norms surrounding children’s clothing that persist today.
The Rise of Unisex Clothing and Its Reversal
When the women’s liberation movement gained momentum in the mid-1960s, it brought an anti-feminine, anti-fashion ethos that popularized the unisex look. Unlike the gender-neutral styles of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s childhood, which were practical and universal, this new trend leaned heavily toward masculine or androgynous clothing for girls. Dresses and frills disappeared, replaced by simple, unadorned outfits that avoided any hint of traditional femininity. Historian Jo B. Paoletti said this shift was part of a broader feminist strategy to challenge societal norms. “One of the ways [feminists] thought girls were lured into subservient roles as women was through clothing,” she explains. “If we dress our girls more like boys and less like frilly little girls, they’ll have more freedom and options.”
By the 1970s, this philosophy was reflected in mainstream retail, with catalogs like Sears Roebuck omitting pink toddler clothing for years. The unisex movement was supported by emerging theories on gender, such as those from John Money, a sexual identity researcher at Johns Hopkins Hospital. Money and others argued that gender was primarily shaped by social and environmental factors, reinforcing the idea that clothing could influence a child’s future identity and behavior.
The Return of Gendered Clothing
Despite its popularity, gender-neutral clothing declined around 1985, a shift Paoletti remembers vividly. She observed a dramatic change between the births of her daughter in 1982 and her son in 1986: “All of a sudden, it wasn’t just a blue overall; it was a blue overall with a teddy bear holding a football.” The resurgence of gendered clothing extended to diapers, now sold in pink and blue, and was driven in part by advances in prenatal testing. Expectant parents, armed with the ability to know their baby’s sex before birth, began shopping for explicitly “boy” or “girl” merchandise. This trend extended beyond clothing to nursery decor, toys, and other big-ticket items, creating new opportunities for retailers to market individualized products.
Shifting Feminist Perspectives and the Influence of Consumerism
Interestingly, some young mothers who grew up in the gender-neutral 1980s rebelled against the unisex aesthetic for their daughters. Paoletti notes that even feminist parents began embracing a more nuanced view of femininity. “They think, even if they want their girl to be a surgeon, there’s nothing wrong if she is a very feminine surgeon,” she explains. This shift reflected a broader cultural change, where traditional symbols of femininity like pink, lace, and long hair were reinterpreted as compatible with empowerment.
At the same time, children’s exposure to targeted advertising reinforced rigid gender norms. Research shows that children start to recognize and internalize gender cues between the ages of 3 and 4 but don’t fully grasp the permanence of gender until ages 6 or 7. Pervasive marketing campaigns capitalized on this developmental stage, shaping children’s preferences and reinforcing stereotypes. “They think, for example, that what makes someone female is having long hair and a dress,” Paoletti observes, noting how strongly children cling to their likes and dislikes.
Challenging the Gender Binary Today
In her research, Paoletti encountered parents grappling with how to dress children who don’t conform to traditional gender roles. Should they encourage their children to fit societal expectations or allow them to express their individuality? “One thing I can say now is that I’m not real keen on the gender binary – the idea that you have very masculine and feminine things,” Paoletti says. She highlights the growing demand for neutral clothing options for babies and toddlers as a step toward inclusivity.
Paoletti also points to the challenges faced by parents and children navigating nonconformity. “There is a whole community out there of parents and kids who are struggling with, ‘My son doesn’t want to wear boy clothes, prefers to wear girl clothes,’” she says. She hopes her book will reach those studying gender clinically, sparking broader discussions about individuality beyond the constraints of pink and blue. While the fashion industry has enforced a stark gender divide, Paoletti reminds us that identity is far more complex than any binary in the real world.
