31
Oct
The Princess Dilemma: Thoughts on Peggy Orenstein’s Cinderella Ate My Daughter By: Megan Ross
“It’s a girl!” my doula announced happily. I had been longing to hear those very words for about 9 months. Among other reasons, I wanted a girl because I loved the name I had chosen for her. My husband and I had never reached a conclusion on what we would name a boy. Also, I would now have a (slight) justification for my My Little Pony Collection. And lets not forget all of the adorable outfits in her future. Now that Leora is almost two, though, my excitement is laced with some anxiety. Beginning at younger and younger ages, girls are learning from our culture, namely through marketing and the media, that their self-worth comes from how they look. The “princess phenomenon” in particular, worries me. You can imagine my interest, then, in Peggy Orenstein’s book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter. Orenstein give a fascinating look into society’s role in influencing our children, and in particular, girls. I hoped she would offer guidance and ideas on how to handle this new era of extreme girlie girls.
At the outset, Orenstein describes her attempts to shield her daughter from all things princess. She was successful until her 2 year old went off to preschool, and was chided by a boy in her class for wearing her favorite Thomas the Train outfit. From that point on, she wanted to look like the other girls who were of course into princesses. She had a classmate who wore a princess dress to school every day. Having witnessed my niece, I can attest to the power of these princesses, and their looks don’t come cheap. But it’s not just the look that bothers me. In fact in and of themselves, the princesses aren’t terrible. Sure, some of their stories aren’t very empowering, and they tend to be on the thin side, but imaginative play of most kinds is healthy, as long as it’s just play. What’s troubling is the 24/7 attitude that being a princess can inspire: “I am a princess, and you must treat me as such.” Extravagant, princess-themed parties abound, requiring parents of attendees to buy expensive dresses. Other popular themes: mani-pedi and spa parties, because princesses need to be pampered, even if they are 6. Luckily Orenstein discovers that the princess phase is relatively short-lived, but what follows is not cause for celebration.
If you peruse the girls’ section of any toy store, you’ll be met with the blank stares of dolls that look like they just came from a night of hard partying. And girls at younger ages are gravitating towards these dolls in the attempt to be more like older siblings or the girls they see on TV. This leads to the desire to look like these dolls or people, and unfortunately I’ve seen far too many outfits that help little girls accomplish this. Do girls really need “Juicy,” “Justice,” or “Princess” written across their butts? These images of female sexuality, either the dolls or girls they see in the media, show young girls how to act and dress sexy before they even know what sex is. Orenstein worries that this will prevent them from knowing what they want out of a sexual relationship when they are older. They will only know how to perform as a sexual object in order to get or keep a man, instead of demanding a reciprocal relationship where their needs are met as well. She talks to a professor who studies female desire, and is dismayed to hear that many young women connect how they feel sexually with how they look. They don’t know how to relate to themselves in other terms. If they don’t think they look “good,” they don’t feel positive about their sexuality, which is sad, because one should have nothing to do with the other.
Something else girls are becoming aware of at far too young an age is weight. Anorexia is affecting girls at younger ages, and why wouldn’t it? With a few exceptions, most of the stars of children’s shows are skinny, and these stars are marketed in a way to encourage their audience to be just like them. In any grocery store check-out line, we’re inundated with magazine covers plastered with stories about weight: “Who is losing weight?” “Who is gaining weight?” “Whose cellulite-ridden legs are these?” (and occasionally) “Who lost too much weight?” There isn’t much we can do to change the media’s current focus, but we can use it as a catalyst for discussions about image, and why there are more important things we should focus on than how we look. As Orenstein admits, this is much easier said than done. Despite the message we give our daughters, downplaying the importance of their looks, what they constantly see and hear around them contradicts our message. Often the way we act contradicts our message. I recently threw out my scale because Leora was playing on it after my morning weigh-ins. Whatever my own issues, I don’t want them rubbing off on her. Orenstein expresses similar concerns because she struggled with an eating disorder, and doesn’t want her daughter to suffer through the same painful experience. We’re human, and it’s impossible to be consistent 100% of the time, but we should still strive towards this goal. I’ve seen many parents throw up their hands in defeat after a little whining for some desired item they don’t want their child to have. Marketing to children wouldn’t work otherwise. They don’t have money, but they have lungs. If we decide to endure the shrieks and close the purse strings to toys that objectify girls, or refuse to let them watch shows that do not promote a healthy body image, perhaps toys companies and TV executives would stop making them. A girl can dream, can’t she? But in all seriousness, if we tell our daughters that looks aren’t everything, then give them a Bratz doll for their birthday, what message is that sending?
Throughout her book, Orenstein researches the effects many different types of media and marketing have on girls before they have the ability to make decisions about who they are, often warping their sense of self. She concludes that the best way to combat the “princess phenomenon,” and the succession of concerns that follow, is to promote self esteem and self-worth through channels that do not focus solely on looks. It’s impossible to ignore how we look altogether, but we should help our daughters feel positive about their looks, even if they don’t live up to society’s unrealistic standards. This is increasingly difficult when we are bombarded by billboards touting plastic surgery and weight loss miracles, TV shows that star girls who do not look real, and pre-teen and teen magazines that offer tips on losing weight. We parents also need to be more aware of how our actions and hang-ups about looks can affect our daughters. Orenstein stresses that it is important to stand “firm in one’s values while remaining flexible,” and that is what I hope to accomplish (192). I still feel a bit overwhelmed by the task in front of me, but at least I have a better understanding of what I am up against so I can help Leora navigate the many trials and joys of growing up.
