princess
Every little girl dreams of being a princess.
At least that’s the common belief. But I have to tell you, it ain’t true. I may have played at being a princess with my friends, but it definitely wasn’t what I wanted for my life. I wanted to be an actor or a writer. (And there was a brief stint of wanting to be a waitress. Yeah, I don’t know what that was about. I’m sure my career aspirations scared the mess out of my logical, practical parents.)
We’ve romanticized the idea of being a princess. It means being special, wealthy, loved. And so we think, “hey, if we can make girls feel like princesses, they’ll understand their self-worth.”
Too many fairy tales, people.
In our quest to convince girls they have worth, we’ve sent the message that in order to be special, you have to have money, power, and pretty things. Isn’t that what’s at the heart of the princess fantasy? To help girls accept themselves, we tell them to pretend to be something else. Seriously?
I don’t want to be a princess or a queen. I don’t want to feel like one either. Can you imagine the pressures that come with being a part of a royal family or ruling a country? It isn’t all about being special and loved, that’s for sure.
I don’t care about fancy jewels or poofy dresses. (In fact, don’t try to get me in that poofy dress or you might find yourself with a broken nose. This girl climbed trees and played with dirt, ok?)
I don’t need some overdone, airbrushed concept of princesshood to make me feel special. I’m not special because someone decided “every girl is a princess.” I’m special because I’m me. I’m unique and uniquely gifted. I’m unlike anyone else on this planet, and I have an incredible future ahead of me. I don’t need to be a “princess” to have worth.