Peggy Orenstein, the author of one of my all-time favourite articles is now the author of a book on the same theme, Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the frontlines of new girlie-girl culture. And this excerpt from a review of her book really nails some important points:
In the case of child beauty pageants, Orenstein offers a shrewd critique of why media exposés of the phenomenon are so perennially popular. They “give viewers license, under the pretext of disapproval, to be titillated by the spectacle, to indulge in guilty-pleasure voyeurism,” she observes. “They also reassure parents of their own comparative superiority by smugly ignoring the harder questions: even if you agree that pageant moms are over the line in their sexualization of little girls — way over the line — where, exactly, is that line, and who draws it and how?” Orenstein allows us to watch her struggle with these questions, and when she arrives at a few answers, they feel well earned…
.. Orenstein finds one such enlightening explanation in developmental psychology research showing that until as late as age 7, children are convinced that external signs — clothing, hairstyle, favorite color, choice of toys — determine one’s sex. “It makes sense, then, that to ensure you will stay the sex you were born you’d adhere rigidly to the rules as you see them and hope for the best,” she writes. “That’s why 4-year-olds, who are in what is called ‘the inflexible stage,’ become the self-appointed chiefs of the gender police. Suddenly the magnetic lure of the Disney Princesses became more clear to me: developmentally speaking, they were genius, dovetailing with the precise moment that girls need to prove they are girls, when they will latch on to the most exaggerated images their culture offers in order to stridently shore up their femininity.” For a preschool girl, a Cinderella dress is nothing less than an existential insurance policy, a crinolined bulwark to fortify a still-shaky sense of identity.
Orenstein is especially sharp-eyed on the subject of what comes after the princess phase, for in the micro-segmented world of marketing to children, there is of course a whole new array of products aimed at girls who begin to tire of their magic wands. These include lines of dolls with names like Moxie Girlz and Bratz: “With their sultry expressions, thickly shadowed eyes and collagen-puffed moues, Bratz were tailor-made for the girl itching to distance herself from all things rose petal pink, Princess-y, or Barbie-ish,” Orenstein notes. “Their hottie-pink ‘passion for fashion’ conveyed ‘attitude’ and ‘sassiness,’ which, anyone will tell you, is little-girl marketing-speak for ‘sexy.’ ”
(I have written on this topic a lot previously – see the archives here for more of my thoughts).
Am so glad I don’t have a daughter at the moment (if ever)… I’m sure if I did this would be a must-read.
My nearly 4 year old daughter is currently in this phase, in a mild way. It’d good to have an understanding about why girls behave like this!
For a preschool girl, a Cinderella dress is nothing less than an existential insurance policy, a crinolined bulwark to fortify a still-shaky sense of identity.
There must be a better way of putting this, but – what about gender-nonconforming/-flexible kids? It would be understandable if not, but does the author touch on them at all in her book?
(I’ve been wanting to read it anyway, but if she does that’d definitely bump it up a few places in my to-read pile.
)
Great question. I don’t know the answer, but great question!
That gender policing by little kids is very interesting. I think just about all the girls at my daughters daycare have long hair, like past their shoulders long. My daughter has short hair because she hates having it combed. MyNigel over heard a little boy asking his Dad (about our short haired daughter) ‘Dad is that a boy or a girl because its got short hair but its wearing a dress’. Dad of little boy was extremely embarrassed, MyNigel thought it was the funniest thing he’d heard for a while.
It is really strange how everyone looks at her hair and seems to think she’s a boy, despite the fact that she can be decked out head to toe in pink (she chooses most of her own clothes now and what arrangements she wears them in). They never look lower than her face, unless of course they are little children of a similar age.
Today she is at daycare in a matching singlet and undies set (purple, Dora) with purple Dora tights complemented by a pink dressing gown with hot pink and white love hearts. My favourite carer merely raised an eyebrow before greeting her. I threw a dress into her locker in case the dressing gown was deemed too hot. I can’t wait for the fights over wearing a uniform to school next year.
Interesting how that little boy used the pronoun “it” to describe your daughter! How funny!
Interesting about all the little girls having long hair now. When I was in nursery school, thirty years ago now, I had short, Christopher-Robin-style hair. I remember one time, ever, someone asking if I was a boy or a girl. And I don’t recall standing out for short hair; I think lots of other girls had short hair too.
Heh Mindy, my daughter’s hair was short for a while because it knotted dreadfully and the combing was really traumatic. Now she is keen on growing it long, so we have a deal that she has to let us comb it in exchange. Before that she was a really hairless toddler and despite pink items of clothing all men thought she was a boy! So, she thinks adolescent boys with long hair are women and I understand now why she wants hers long. Luckily, it doesn’t knot anymore. Clothing related activities can go on for hours at our place, especially nows there’s an 18 month old sister to dictate clothing choices for.
Peggy Orenstein’s piece about how Japanese culture acknowledges miscarried babies is one of the most moving pieces I have ever read.
Really looking forward to reading her book.
I am really excited to read this book. Essentially, I think this confirms Judith Butler’s “Gender Trouble.” And, I would love to hear her thoughts.
I just wrote about Barbie on my blog a few weeks ago and how I swore — up and down — that my Kid would never have a princess. I do think that gender is something we put on. We need to give our sons/daughters the tools to realize when they are being had. We have to take the time to say: no woman should ever give up their voice (Ariel), men wear pink, and not only say, but model this behavior.
As an idealist, I want to believe that I have the most influence on my daughter and that leading by example will make a difference. What, in the end, would banning princesses accomplish? I think it would have made her less aware, less capable of critical thinking. KWIM?
I am in the middle of princess hell now and barely coping…! I thougth I was raising my just 4 y.o to be a strong feminsit confident woman. Why does she want to be a Princess~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[...] to hear Peggy Orenstein, whom I like so very very much being interviewed here about her book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the [...]
[...] when I read in Blue Milk about this book, I ordered it and these last few days had a bit of time to read it. And this book kind of reassured [...]
[...] I am interested. [...]