As we approach Women’s History Month in March, I have a seemingly silly but serious question to ask. Where are all the female gnomes?

Gnomes have made a comeback recently as those adorable fellows with long bushy beards, bulbous noses, and peaked hats covering their eyes. I see them in all sorts of places keeping busy in various forms of work and industry.

Gnomes are especially popular in this region not only because they are so darned cute, but also because they have origins in Scandinavian culture. The traditional Scandinavian word for gnomes is “Tomte”, which was originally coined by Saint Birgitta of Sweden in the 1300s. They are known as the “Nisse” in Norway and Denmark, and the “Narren” in Germany.

According to folklore, gnomes live for 400 years and are industrious, kind, and wise. They are woodland creatures, who like Santa’s elves, are especially visible at Christmas. That is, of course, unless they the womanly type.

The scarcity of female gnomes is not due to the fact that gnomes were originally conceptualized as male. Both male and female gnomes are found throughout European mythology.

One can occasionally spot modern female gnomes in films like “Gnomeo and Juliet”, or even dance with them at festivals hosted in New Ulm. But such sightings are rare.

When The Guardian asked readers why gnomes are always male, international explanations included that it is because they guard postboxes, because it is unbearable to think of them reproducing, and because no female would sit forever on a toadstool or “fish” in a pool without fish.

But things were not always this way. I distinctly remember in the 1970s the popularity of the Gnomes picture book written by Will Huygen and illustrated by Rien Poortvliet. This delightful book depicted many elaborate portraits of both male and female gnomes in their natural setting. One natural setting included drawings of male and female gnomes in their birthday suits, which gave children like myself an educational opportunity to see what realistic bodies look like after middle age.

These gnomes had gnome children and formed gnome families. These days, like their brethren, Santa Claus, leprechauns, elves, wizards, and hobbits, gnomes are primarily depicted as portly, aging men-folk with flowing beards.

It is tempting to blame some of this on J.R.R. Tolkien, author of the very wonderful but very masculine fantasy worlds of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. But this tendency cannot be fully attributed to Tolkien, given that even the Easter Bunny usually appears as masculine. Trying to spot a female gnome in modern times is as tricky as finding a unicorn.

In my garden I have a collection of gnomes who live on “Gnome-Hill”— a mound left behind by an uprooted tree. I populated it with all sorts and sizes of male gnomes engaged in work such as welcoming, digging, cutting, carrying, and harvesting.

But try as I might, I cannot find many female gnomes to inhabit this magical place. On the internet I was able to locate a single female gnome, who at 24 inches towers over her male companions like she is instigating the Attack of the 50 ft. She-Gnome.

On the other hand, there is no shortage of female forms to be found in fairy land. Fairies are depicted as youthful, waiflike creatures, usually female, or occasionally as children of either gender. But fairies are capricious flit-abouts, with youthful appeal but less of a work ethic than the gnomes. They are ethereal and playful, but not as productive as gnomes.

All of this might be a fanciful reflection on current trends of fantastical archetypes were it not that these images, and their missing counter-types, hint at a lurking cultural paradox — that although women are responsible for much work going on behind the scenes at holidays and festive occasions, rarely is this reflected in American icons.

Mothers and Grandmothers everywhere exhaust themselves at Christmas shopping and wrapping, only to have the scene stolen by Santa and his bros, the elves. Ditto at Eastertime, where if my family is any indication, women help children dye eggs and stay up late to help the Easter Bunny hide baskets, only to be woken at the crack of dawn to go find them.

But who gets the credit?

Mr. Easter Bunny.

Worse yet, women who are advanced in age some years beyond the maiden-fairy prototype will see their mythological reflections in only one consistent place — the evil witch.

And we know what happens to wicked witches. But I have heard that in Italy they have Christmas Witches, featured after La Befana. These are beautifully decorated doll witches hung by women in their kitchens to remind children to behave.

Like Santa Claus and Father Christmas, the Italian Befana rewards good children with treats and bad children with rocks, coal, onions, or garlic.

The story I like best about Befana is that having lost her own child, she sought the baby Jesus and gave him gifts. Pleased with these gifts, Jesus gifted her in return by making her the mother of all Italian children. Although she may have had some creepy mythological forerunners, Befana today is not an overly scary creature, but one who works hard and wields some power and substance.

The Italian Christmas witches styled after Befana have presence and relevance beyond the frights of Halloween. Like female gnomes, I have been unable to locate a Christmas witch for my own kitchen.

I guess I will just have to make one, along with some female gnomes to join the menfolk on Gnome-Hill. All I have to do is give those plush, bulbous-nosed fellows a shave, and add some braids and a flower or two.

— Maureen Sander-Staudt is a professor of philosophy at Southwest Minnesota State University