When I discovered I was expecting a daughter, I made several commitments to myself. Firstly, I aimed to create a wardrobe for her that featured colors beyond the stereotypical pink. I planned to fill her room with gender-neutral toys like Legos, train sets, and puzzles. I resolved not to label her as “pretty,” as I wanted to avoid linking her self-esteem to her appearance. And one promise I was adamant about was never to refer to my daughter as a princess.
However, I’ve since found myself reconsidering that stance. The term “princess” has often been criticized, with some associating it with entitlement and tantrums, while others view it as synonymous with passivity and conformity. For many, calling a girl a princess seems to contradict feminist ideals.
Yet, I call my daughter “princess” every day. Perhaps I’ve lost my way. Influenced by a barrage of toys and media, my daughter has developed a genuine affection for all things royal. To her, being a princess entails wearing extravagant dresses, frolicking with animals, residing in a castle, and bestowing glitter upon her loyal subjects (which includes her father, me, and her ever-accommodating older brother). To her, the term represents being cherished and unique. Referring to her as a princess is akin to expressing my love.
Is Embracing the Princess Identity Detrimental?
Is it really detrimental to let her embrace this identity? Some might argue that it fosters entitlement or a sense of superiority. However, I disagree. This isn’t about instilling arrogance or reinforcing negative stereotypes. It’s simply imaginative play. In her eyes, she’s the princess of our small family kingdom, and we even held a coronation ceremony to celebrate this!
This belief is not permanent. As she grows, I’m confident she will recognize the difference between fantasy and reality. By the time she reaches college, I doubt she will arrive wearing a tiara. Even if she did choose to attend classes dressed as a princess, who are we to judge her happiness?
At five years old, she doesn’t yet grasp the distinction between the fantasy of princesses and their real-life counterparts, and I don’t feel the need to shatter her delightful illusions just to uphold my feminist views. Recently, she expressed her desire to stay home and care for her future children, only for her older brother to interject about the importance of education and independence. Her retort, “It’s my choice. You can’t decide for me,” showcases her budding sense of autonomy and awareness.
More Than Just a Title
We affectionately refer to her by many names—sweetheart, munchkin, little star. “Princess” might not always be her top choice (though it certainly seems to be). We also prioritize highlighting her admirable qualities: her empathy, creativity, determination, and intelligence. These are the attributes that make her our true princess.
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Conclusion
In summary, calling my daughter a princess is not an endorsement of outdated ideals; rather, it’s an expression of love and imagination. It’s a playful acknowledgement of her unique place in our family, where her qualities truly make her a queen in our eyes.