Is your little girl a princess? I know mine is, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all. I know there’s a book out there called “Cinderella Ate My Daughter,” that talks all about the dangers of the princess obsession. I also know many people who think that if they let their daughter wear pink or watch disney or play in a toy kitchen they are somehow setting feminism back fifty years.
The general consensus seems to be that if you let your child pretend to be a princess you’re sending them a message that they’re allowed to act spoiled, and they need to be rescued by Prince Charming.
Way to focus on the negative! Princesses have privileges the rest of the world lacks, certainly. And if you’re sitting on your personal computer reading this post from a climate controlled home of some kind and have food in your refrigerator, so do you. Does that make you a bad person? No. With privilege comes a responsibility to your household and to your community.
A princess certainly knows how to behave properly, so if my daughter wants to be a “real” princess then she’d best mind her manners. A princess doesn’t get everything she wants, she still has to contend with the King and Queen, and a real princess does not need a prince to rescue her. I’ve not seen a single Disney princess since Cinderella that wasn’t resourceful, and independent. Generally the event that propels a Disney movie forward is when the protagonist tries to change their life, which shows initiative. Ariel didn’t wait around for Prince Eric to find her, she made tough sacrifices and found him on her own. Belle didn’t stay safely at home and trust that her father would return to her, she braved the storm and charmed a beast. Jasmine wasn’t going to let the men sit around and decide her fate. Pocahontas prevented a slaughter, Tiana worked her but off to reach her dream, and Rapunzel took control of her life despite years of emotional abuse and manipulation.
There are plenty of positive examples of princesses in literature as well. “The Enchanted Forest Chronicles,” by Patricia C. Wrede, and “Ella Enchanted,” by Gail Carson Levine are just two of countless examples. I could go on all day, but the point I’m trying to make is that a princess is what you make of it. There are plenty of positive messages to send if your child wants to mimic a princess. There are plenty of negative messages you could choose to focus on, but what does that accomplish other than missing a perfectly good teachable moment?
What do you think?