How to really fix Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head

So, what does it mean for Mr. or Mrs. Potato Head to become “gender neutral”?

This is one of the questions that has popped up on a lot of news feeds over the past week after Hasbro announced that it was dropping the “Mr.” from one of its trademark products in order to be more inclusive. The company later clarified that Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head were not gone for good; the company was simply adding a more androgynous version to its line of plastic root vegetables.

I don’t really have a problem with this, but I wonder if it goes far enough to promote inclusivity and diversity. First of all, if you’ve ever seen a sack of potatoes, they don’t all look the same, and they rarely ever conform to the perfect oblong shape you find in the toy version. In fact, I would say Mr. Potato Head represents an unrealistic body image for young spuds to aspire to. The short, squat taters are left out, and so are the unusually long and contorted ones that come out of the ground that way. They, too, should have toy versions of themselves in packages all across America. Otherwise, we’re not really appreciating the whole range of the potato species. They also come in purple and yellow varieties, by the way. Does Hasbro really want to open itself up to accusations of discrimination based on skin color?

Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head have always been meant to look like some kind of human-potato hybrid. The eyes, ears and mouth — along with the stubby feet and lanky arms — are the defi ning characteristics of the iconic toy. In a weird way, we are meant to see a bit of ourselves in Hasbro’s potato replicas.

As an awkward teenager with a large head accentuated by my scrawny body, Mr. Potato Head actually became one of my unwanted nicknames in middle school. I came to hate the toy because of the unflattering comparisons that were made to my own cranium. I would’ve rather been called Ken (as in Barbie’s boyfriend) or He-Man or maybe even some action figure from Star Wars.

But I never thought to sue Hasbro or even write them a letter. I realized that other kids my age also had to deal with toys that gave their friends ammo for teasing. While I may have been a Potato Head, some of my classmates had to put up with comparisons to the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man or Jabba the Hutt. It’s been said many time before, but I’ll say it again, kids are cruel.

Somehow, though, I survived my childhood, and my body size eventually caught up with my head size (and then some). My middle-aged body could probably prompt some funny, toy-based comparisons. As long as I don’t take it too seriously (hint, hint Hasbro), I think I can get along just fine in this world with Mr. Potato Head as he is.

OUT FOR A WALK

KEVIN O’BRIEN

EDITOR