Being a Princess is About Who You Are, Not What You Wear

I am proud to call myself a feminist, and don't think it conflicts with my other identities or belief systems. I don't think being a feminist means rejecting femininity, or believing men and women are the same. What it does mean to me is that women and men are equals; I think it's progress that American women have equal rights politically, educationally and economically. Despite the rise of feminism and the ideal of social equality between men and women, American culture today for little boys and girls is extremely gendered, and our household is confronting a princess craze.

I embrace the desire for girls to play dress up and think that imaginative play is an awesome thing for a child. I have fond memories of playing dress up myself with my lifelong friend, Elana. Her mother's closet was full of exciting things to try on, and we would prance around to show off our fashion ensembles. What concerns me, though, is the idea that being "the fairest of them all" is what matters in life, and a little girl's external appearance is what defines her beauty. The contemporary little girl princess culture emphasizes an ideal princess-perfect outward appearance. It's not only American women who are objectified, but American little girls.

Lydia has only ever even seen one princess movie, "Cinderella." And when she watched it, I was careful to talk with her about how kind Cinderella was, even when her step-sisters were cruel to her. We talked about Cinderella's character traits, and how beautiful she was on the inside. We discussed that what made her step-sisters ugly was their meanness. On our bookshelf, we have no traditional princess tales. We have lots of alternative princess stories that turn the stereotypes on their heads, like "Princess Pigsty" and "The Princess and the Pizza." We recently got a new book in this genre - "Do Princesses Wear Hiking Boots?" - that emphasizes that being a princess has nothing to do with what a girl wears. Whenever Lydia insists she wants to wear a "ball gown" (or a crown, or fancy shoes) because she wants to be a princess, I tell her, "Being a princess is about who you are, not what you wear." Yet the message seems to fall on deaf ears.

Evidence: see a picture of a potato head that Lydia assembled. She said she wanted to build a "princess" potato head. I watched her select the cherry red lips with perfect smile, the eyes with pink lush lashes, and the pointed purple shoes. I recently built a castle out of Duplos and proudly displayed it to Lydia, highlighting all its awesome features. When I pointed out the castle's princess, she said, "That's not a princess. She's wearing overalls." She saw me getting undressed one evening and pointed to my silky pink underwear, exclaiming, "You're a princess, mommy!"

I wonder to myself, if I'm trying so hard to send Lydia the message that being a princess is about who you are, not what you wear, how does she have such a clear concept of a princess as a girl with an ultra-feminine appearance, perfect features, makeup, and ideally clad in a sparkly gown enhanced with layers of crinoline? We hardly watch television in our house (no cable!), she's seen only one Disney princess movie, I don't wear any makeup, and we don't read traditional princess stories. I recently read Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein, which is an interesting book for parents with daughters. She details the rise of the Disney Princess product line, which didn't exist until 2000. A marketing executive went to a "Disney on Ice" show where he saw lots of little girls wearing handmade princess costumes, and realized Disney had a huge branding opportunity. Thus, the Disney Princess craze was born. And other toy manufacturers followed suit. Now we can purchase princess everything - bedding, costumes, lamps, hairbrushes, etc. Toys are divided into pink and blue to an extent I never encountered as a child. Even once gender-neutral toys like a popper are color-coded blue or pink. If one so much as takes her daughter on errands to the local grocery or big-box store, she'll be exposed to plenty of princess gear. Our daughters were surrounded by pink, ultra-feminine goods as soon as we shared the news, "it's a girl!"

And what is the message of that culture? That being pretty by wearing beautiful gowns is what will get you attention as a girl in this world. When Lydia wears her "princess ball gown" out and about, she gets tons of attention. Recently, she wore it on an errand and as we walked into a store, a random woman stopped her car, rolled down her window, and said, "I LOVE HER OUTFIT!" How can I blame Lydia for wanting to wear these outfits when she garners such praise and adoration while wearing them? I fear that already at the age of two she's concluded a woman's power is in her ability to look outwardly beautiful.

I know it's an age-old problem for women to struggle with social pressure to be beautiful on the outside. This is where the "fairest of them all" princess stories come from, after all. Yet, thanks to the feminist movement, our girls are (rightly) being told that they can follow their dreams and forge the path they want to regardless of their sex. I imagine there will be some cognitive dissonance for our daughters who hear they can pursue any dream, while being made to feel that their success is really determined by their conformity to traditional norms of feminine beauty.

Jeff pointed out to me that we, too, tell Lydia how beautiful she is. I love the outfits that she puts together - especially the wild ones! And I don't think there's anything wrong with that, but I'm trying to be better about telling her she's beautiful no matter what she wears. I tell her she's beautiful when she does something generous, like when she brings a toy to her fussy sister. I'm hoping that by reminding her, "being a princess is about who you are, not what you wear," my dream for her to grow up as a loving, self-assured woman will be a reality, rather than just another fairy tale.