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Other than the fact that I could watch “Princess Bride” countless times, anything “princess” has never been one of my interests. Growing up, I never wanted to be a princess. I never wanted to play with princess dolls. I never desired anything labeled “princess,” whether pajamas, bikes, or panties. I never needed to, or wanted to, see myself as a princess.
So now, as a feminist and mother, I have caught myself off guard in using one term of endearment with my 14-month-old daughter. Along with “little angel,” “poopsie whoopsie,” “honey bunny,”… I’ve heard myself calling her a “princessa” (as said in my native tongue, Icelandic).
Okay, I told myself. She’s still very young. No harm done. She won’t remember this – let alone fathom the larger messaging the word sends – as long as I quit using the word sometime soon…
But sometime soon has passed, and using the word feels good and right to me because she is just that in my eyes: my little princessa. She is charming, endearing, intelligent, gorgeous, thoughtful, and loving. She is fearless, self-confident, bold and sweet. She has everyone waiting on her hand and foot. She is, quite simply, mesmerizing and lovely.
Still, it’s hard to use the word princess and not feel my feminist nature rear its head, given how the word is used in American culture. Here, it means sporting a tiara, ball gown, and glass slippers, being pretty and perfect, and overdosing on Disney’s ideas of what it means to be princess, most notably finding your prince. Amongst the potential consequences of this are being self-consumed, difficult to please, and waiting around for a man to come save you, complete you.
As a still fairly new mother wanting to do the best for my daughter, it’s easy to get caught up in the do’s and don’ts of parenting. It’s easy to succumb to fears others have for me, and my family, whether such fears are founded or not.
But when I worry about what the potential impact of calling my daughter a princess, I remind myself that I, along with my husband, need to and can do what’s right for my child. I need to follow the advice that I’ve given other parents as a sexuality educator, that I’m the one who is ultimately in charge of the messaging my daughter receives on a daily basis. I have the power to buffer how princess messaging is going to be processed and perceived. I can own the word positively in its use.
In raising a daughter or son, it’s important that all caretakers not only consider the words they use to show love and adoration, but to make sure that they’re defining them as well. While all words are socially constructed, they can be deconstructed too. It is how you use the words and the power you want to give them that will have the bigger impact. Instead of banning words or labeling their meaning based on societal definitions, all of us need to consider owning them in a good way, and in a way that sends positive messaging to children.
Shortly after I began this piece, I came across an article in the latest Cosmopolitan Magazine about women doing a princess half-marathon at Disney World. While I still can’t relate to the participants’ desire to be a princess, to get married in a Cinderella gown, and to wear name brand glass slippers, I found myself warming to their evolved definition of “princess.”
According to Cosmo, the term is not about being rescued by Prince Charming or being self-absorbed. To the marathoners and other women, to be a princess has taken on a much more positive spin, coming to mean femininity, specialness, entitlement and strength.
So if I choose to keep using “princess,” then I’m going to make my daughter aware of the fact that being such isn’t about having royal family ties, or becoming Cinderella or Snow White, or holding out for Prince Charming. It can be so much more and better things.
According to Merriam-Webster, “princess” can mean: “a woman having sovereign power” and “a woman of high rank or of high standing in her class or profession.” Synonyms include: goddess, diva, queen, high priestess, and prima donna – some pretty powerful words in my book.
And as my daughter grows older, and into a more empowered, post-princess self, I’m sure that it’s the meaning of these are words that she’ll choose to own in one way or another.
