I’ve shared quite a few barefoot poems over the years. Well, I’ve found another one.
This one was published in 1904 in a magazine called The Youth’s Companion. Of course, kids would go barefoot all summer long (and some even longer).
Well, most of them.
A PLEA.
By Louise Edgar.
Dear mother, why must I be dressed
And fixed up in my Sunday best,
In hat and coat and all the rest.
While Tommy’s going barefoot?Why can’t I go, too, if I choose?
I hate my stockings and my shoes.
To walk this way gives me the blues
When Tommy’s going barefoot.You say ‘twould cut my little toes.
And spoil my pretty, pretty clothes.
I wouldn’t mind that, every one knows.
Mama, can’t I go barefoot?
Mama, can’t I go barefoot?
Ahcuah 
This seems to refer to a curious double standard of a hundred years ago when girls had to be all dressed up and pretty whereas boys were allowed and even expected to play rough, barefoot in simple, sturdy clothes.
Nowadays it seems to be the opposite at times when females of all ages find it easier to live barefoot and be accepted by society than males who appear to be more conformist.
I don’t like gender imbalance of any kind, the options of life (including the choice to be barefoot) should be open to all.
According to a friend of mine who works in a funeral home this even extends to the options of death. She told me once (after a few glasses of wine) that a family is far more likely to bring shoes along with clothes for the deceased to be buried in if the deceased is a man – women are frequently barefoot when laid to rest, or are just wearing hose or slippers.
In the old days I think it was connected to toughness – boys would toughen their soles up when girls were considered dainty and in need of protection. But today we have a different gendered view of bare feet wherein it’s feminine because women are in many ways considered more empathetic and sensitive/responsive to the world around them, so being barefoot is more their natural state. When my friend asked one bereaved mother about it she said something to the tune of “Let her go barefoot, how could I put my daughter in that casket wearing dress shoes on white satin?”