You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear
You’ve got to be taught from year to year
It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear
You’ve got to be carefully taught!

Seventy-six years after Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical South Pacific first appeared on Broadway, the chilling message of their song “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught” continues to resonate.

According to the National Association for the Education of Young Children in its study series “Teaching Young Children to Resist Bias,” it is imperative that parents and adults with authority “give children messages that deliberately contrast stereotypes by providing books, dolls, toys, wall decorations, TV programs, and music that show” (among other anti-bias measures) “men and women in non-traditional roles.”

But just buying a Barbie doll in a physician’s coat or a toy fire truck with a woman at the wheel is not solving the problem of recognizing women leaders. Between the ages of 2 and 5, children are exposed to many strong women, including, hopefully, their mothers, as well as other female relatives, preschool caretakers and teachers (primarily women), pediatricians (increasingly female), and, for some, nannies.

The stylized ideal, however, of a woman who is recognized and accepted as an important leader outside of a nurturing role—such as an executive in the business world—remains elusive and rare. Raising a child to believe he could some day take direction from a woman boss he admires can only happen if he knows such women exist.

I have a 2-year-old grandson, Connor, who has a favorite book he calls “the Sacagawea book.” Last year he called it “the sock it to ya book,” a phrase he learned from his older Boston cousins.

The book, whose official title is Little Feminist: Celebrating 25 Amazing Women Throughout History, features kid-friendly illustrations of high-achieving artists, scientists, politicians, and athletes with a simple text that explains why each was courageous and ultimately successful in overcoming hardship.

Sacagawea is noted for her exploits as a 16-year-old Native American girl who guided and “saved the whole Lewis and Clark expedition by rescuing important supplies … while caring for her baby boy, who was strapped to her back during the 3,700-mile journey.”

Ruth Bader Ginsburg (“the judge” to Connor), Sally Ride (“the astronaut”), Maya Angelou (“the poet”), and Maya Lin ( “the architect” or, in Connor’s voice, “ark-EE-tek”) are real people to my grandson, and they’re every bit as interesting, for at least six minutes, as the dogs, the trucks, or the Chicago Cubs in his other books. 

Not all women in the book are conventional career women. Cleopatra, for instance, is described as a “woman who was beautiful, clever, and knew how to get things done!” She’s described as wanting “the Roman emperor Julius Caesar to be on her side when she plotted to capture the Egyptian throne … so she wrapped herself in a rug and had it delivered to him in secret!” The emperor, we are told, found “this sneaky trick so impressive, he agreed to help her become Egypt’s queen.”

The last entry in the book features Malala Yousafzai, the Pakistani activist who won the Nobel Peace Prize at age 17. As with Rosa Parks, explaining the concept of “activist” to a 2-year-old can be challenging.

But to Connor, this is really just another fun kiddie book with cute pictures and catchy stories. That is precisely the point for author Yelena Moroz Alpert, illustrator Lydia Ortiz, and photographer Patrick Rafanan. They make women leaders seem likable and, better yet, normal.

Normal, that is, to those who grew up being reinforced for taking risks. After many visits to the playground during the past year, I’ve repeatedly watched mothers and fathers encourage their sons to “climb higher” and their daughters to “be careful” on the climbing net.

Indeed, another favorite book of Connor’s is Max and Nana Go to the Park. Max runs too fast, falls down, and scrapes his knee. Crying ensues, but encouraged by his grandmother, Max climbs to the top of the slide, “to the very top.” There, risk is rewarded: “He can see the WHOLE PARK!” Although he quickly whooshes down the slide, he won’t forget that view.