When I think of Legos, I think of one of the most iconic American toys of the last few decades. I can remember spending endless amounts of time building and rebuilding Lego sets as a kid—that part of my life will always bring me nostalgia. Legos allowed me to engage my imagination in so many ways, from creating my Lego cities to making up stories about my characters. Legos became my creative outlet and taught me how to think outside of the box.

But now that I’m older and have begun to see the negative news coverage on Legos, I realize that my favorite childhood toy is inherently flawed. Legos cling to sexist representations, whether we like to admit it or not. Even as the company slowly begins to crawl toward progress, Legos are still largely built for young white males.

When I searched the Lego website recently, I found that the protagonists of Lego sets were much more likely to be males; females were generally presented in supplementary and domestic roles. In one set, male knights storm a castle in which a princess is held captive; in another, a Lego fireman helps a woman get her cat down from a tree. There are a select group of female heroes in Lego sets, but they are generally dressed as tomboys, almost as if they were essentially guys in slightly feminine clothing.

After a more thorough look at the Lego page, most female characters fit the stereotype of domicile behavior. The vast array of Lego characters sold on their own as “minifigures,” such as a sword-wielding barbarian, a mountain climber and a waitress, also reinforce cultural stereotypes. Lego went as far as producing a female robot that has makeup on her face and accelerometers for breasts.

In recent years, however, Lego has begun to make a more concerted effort to diversify its target consumer audience, including the release of a major product line titled “Friends.” Lego officially stated that it wanted to create a product in accordance with how girls “naturally build and play.” Looking at these sets, one realizes the flaws of Lego’s thought process. “Friends” exudes femininity unrivaled in any of its other products. Set in the flowery, pink-and-purple, overly passive “Heartlake City,” Friends deviates immensely from the Lego norm.

Sadly, the characters in the set did not have that iconic boxy look of normal Legos. The girls were all skinny with long hair and a good deal of makeup—essentially sexualized Legos, promoting an ideal image of femininity never associated with Lego before. In examining a company that I loved so much as a child, I realized that Lego had gone backwards.

In the past few years, Lego has finally come under fire for its stereotyped approach to creating toys. Activists have derided the company for forcing children to choose feminine or masculine products, especially with the emergence of Friends, which has been one of the company’s most profitable ventures. CNN and other outlets recently ran articles about a 7-year-old girl who wrote a letter about the absence of female professional figures from Lego sets.

Surprisingly, Lego responded to the outcry by creating a set featuring three female scientists. Observers applauded the company for making a meaningful attempt to create a product that defied stereotypes, but it’s clear that the move was simply symbolic. Lego must make a bigger push to encourage gender-neutral products and feature the equal participation of male and female characters. If Lego wants to keep its reputation as an iconic, relevant children’s toy, then it’s time to do away with the stereotypes and sexual messages that the company is currently pushing.