When I was a kid, I played with Barbies. I had a ton of them. Okay, I think it was 11, but that was a lot for the 80s, and I dressed them up in their pretty clothes and my dad taught me algebra so we could build them a house, and they kept Ken in a closet and only brought him out for dates. Good times! (What? He only came with one outfit and it was boring. You’d keep him in a closet, too.) The real conversations about clothes and furniture and renovations and adventure happened without him. And there was only one of him, so he didn’t have any Ken Buddies to hang out with while that went on. The Barbies went on trips (really only to another part of the playroom, but hey, they were plastic.) and Ken sat around at home. I didn’t consider their freakish anatomy something I should aspire to possess, and they had some kind of nebulous source of income that allowed them to have a lifestyle that included having several professions but didn’t include actually being accountable to the workplace. Don’t ask, don’t tell featured heavily in our relationship.
The problem with Princess Culture isn’t the princesses or the dolls with pretty hair or the rhinestone shoes. It’s that year after year we tell girls they have to choose. Be pretty OR smart. Sexy OR serious. And there’s a very clear value judgement associated with that choice. Pretty is right. Sexy is right. Serious and smart are wrong.
In the typical princess narrative, the main character doesn’t do things. She has things done to her. Our wonderful, smart, funny, amazing, brave (and yes, pretty) girls deserve to get the message that they don’t need to wait for a male character to come on the scene before the action starts. Likewise, our boys deserve to understand that women have more to bring to the story than looking nice. Like Princess Leia and her blaster rescuing her supposed saviors, our girls can and will make a mark on this world, and our sons deserve to expect that.
And, lest I fail to make this point, let me underscore that this choice is only for girls. Boys can be sexy and serious and smart. (So long as, by these arbitrary rules, they don’t dare choose pink.) So the problem isn’t being attractive or liking pretty things or wanting to be attractive. The problem is that we have allowed those things to be defined as mutually exclusive. That definition alone- even if we don’t try to take one of those choices from our daughters- is damaging to our children. All our children, regardless of gender.
So, Pink. Listen. I think you’re all right. We’ve never been best buds, but there are times I’m really glad to have you around. But unless you can stop being the kind of friend who doesn’t want a girl to have other friends while she is friends with you, I’m going to have to put you in time out. If liking pink means you can’t like math, then I’m sorry, Pink, but we can’t be friends. It’s not because I like math better than I like you. It’s because well rounded people have more than one friend at a time. And little girls deserve to be well rounded people. So if you want to keep playing, Pink, you’d better get it together and start being a good friend.
Won’t you join us over on our So Much More Than a Princess pin board, where we pin things that remind us that our girls can like pink AND be smart, serious, creative, bold, and so, so much more?
Follow Meghan Gray’s board So much more than a princess on Pinterest.
