The Struggle For Inner [Pink]

Recently, I read an interview in Parents magazine with the author of Cinderella Ate My Daughter, Peggy Orenstein. The article pissed me off and made me want to burn my copy of the magazine, but unfortunately, it also has some great vacation ideas...So, rather, I decided to venture over to Amazon.com and see what the hype is all about with this book.


From what I can guage, Ms. Orenstein has started a war with Disney and anything "princess." She has begun (or maybe just further exaggerated) the anti-princess movement. One of the chapters in this book is entitled: The Other Disney Princesses: From Wholesome to Whoresome. What kind of judgment is THAT?! I already didn't like this woman, and now she made me want to burn her book and Parents magazine. I mean, how can someone say that princesses are ruining are kids and then go and say something like that? Does Ms. Orenstein know these young women? Honestly! I don't know, but if it's me, and I'm going to put myself out there for the world to see and make a really bold statement such as suggesting that Cinderella is eating my daughter, I certainly wouldn't follow it up by calling anybody a whore. I'm pretty sure that's not going to help my credibility, you know?


Well anyway, this woman, coupled with the backlash that has come from Walmart announcing its new line of cosmetics for "tweens" (which is just filling a hole since MaryKate & Ashley Olsen's line went kaput) got me thinking about how these things fit into my own life as both a young girl and now, as a mom.


My mom used to call me a princess all the time, especially in my teen years, which I totally resented. In fact, I still hate it. I hated it because it was her way of telling me that I was being a spoiled rotten brat, but it was more socially acceptable...I guess. Even in my early 20s, she would still bust it out whenever she felt I was being high maintenance or when I didn't know how to do wife-ish things. "You're such a princess," she would say. So for me, the whole idea of little girls being called "princess" has a negative connotation. In fact, I really hadn't thought about this until recently, but when my first daughter received any clothing that had "princess" on it, I subconsciously ignored it and never put it on her. I'm beginning to understand why now...


So, I had always been a "girly girl" growing up. I loved to play with make-up, loved dresses and Barbies and anything with ruffles. I loved ballet class, shopping, and one of my favorite things to do at my Grandma's house was to put on her costume jewelry and lipstick.

I didn't have any kind of interest in trains, despite the fact that I remember my uncle having a model train in his basement. I had no interest in cars, though my dad was a mechanic and even owned his own shop. When I played over at my (boy) cousin's house, we sometimes played with Lincoln Logs or blocks, but that was the extent of my interest in anything "boyish." I hated fishing, I couldn't stand being dirty...are we getting the idea yet? I grew up on a street that had about 50 boys and 3 girls: my sister, my friend Kristin, and me. The boys would want to play sports, whether it be baseball, basketball, football or wrestling; I always wanted to be the cheerleader. I started dance lessons at age 7, and I continued dancing all through high school.


The funny thing is that at some point during high school, I started a war with myself. I'm fairly certain now, looking back, that I started this war as a rebellion against the "princess" that people saw in me. I think that even some of my friends were annoyed at my femininity...I felt like I was disappointing my dad because I had no interest in the only ways he knew how to bond with me: fishing, hunting & cars. This, coupled with my mom's use of "princess" in daily conversation, really flipped my switch. I began a movement. I forced myself to learn how to change the oil in my car, I went on a couple fishing trips with my dad, and I even stopped wearing skirts and anything pink. I wanted to prove to everyone (more than myself, really) that I was more than a tiara. It was exhausting. It wasn't fun. And frankly, it just wasn't me.


My senior year, I finally gave in to myself. I realized that I really just didn't care what anyone thought of me. I LOVE pink. I LOVE shopping. I LOVE putting on make-up. And damnit, I LOVE a great pair of stilletos and a little black dress.  And I'll be damned if someone's going to make me feel guilty about it. My love of all things girly has nothing to do with marketing. It has nothing to do with all the fairy tales I read and watched growing up. It doesn't even coming from my mother's influence, since she didn't teach me anything about make-up, hair or fashion. I learned that all on my own and from some of my friends on my dance teams. It comes from my heart, and I'm good with that.


The problem I have with Ms. Orenstein is that she doesn't realize (or maybe she does) that having a love of pink, frilly stuff and princesses doesn't make her daughter (or anyone else's) less of a person. It doesn't make her promiscuous or materialistic. It makes her who she is. I think people like Orenstein have this narrow-minded view that says if a girl likes pink and shoes and make-up and fashion that she's destined for a life of materialism and stupidity. Feminine isn't synonomous with stupid or promiscuous. And princess isn't synonomous with entitlement, materialistim, and superiority either.


I'm really glad that I learned these things. I'm really glad that I could look within myself and realize that I don't have to feel bad because I love the things that I do. I can love shopping and pink. I can love make-up as a way of artistic expression, not just "sexualization." And so can my daughters. I'll teach them what it means to be a true princess, one who's humble and loving, compassionate and giving, and who's beautiful both inside and out.