by Anti-Racist Parent columnist Deesha Philyaw
As the mother of two girls who do not live under rocks, I have not been able to escape the whole princess thing. A few years back, when my oldest was in kindergarten and my youngest was an infant, I wrote a column (for another site) about how, as I kid, I had embraced media messages that promoted a “white is right” standard of beauty (show of hands: Who else wore the white towel on her head to become Farrah Fawcett’s character on Charlie’s Angels?). I didn’t want my own daughters to go down this path:
…I take a special interest in the media images my children consume, as do most parents I know, regardless of race. I don’t rely on entertainment executives or book authors to affirm or protect my children. That’s my job. But I do seek out age-appropriate books, movies, and other media that reflect the diversity of the world in which we live, with characters who look like us and the people we know and love.
But what about fairytales and the other “classics,” those all-white, generations-old stories and characters that are presumed staples of American cultural literacy, likely to turn up as “Jeopardy” questions? We love “The Sound of Music” and “Mary Poppins”, but quick: Name an American children’s classic featuring a black cast. The good, but depressing “Sounder”?
Should classic stories and movies be avoided then because they tend to feature all-white casts? In our family, we sometimes take a “don’t ask-don’t tell” approach. For example, we simply don’t do princesses. I never told my older daughter, T, about Sleeping Beauty and company, and she never asked about them.
Until this year. Nearly every girl in T‘s kindergarten class is infatuated with princesses. I have an aversion to princesses. Actually, I have an aversion to pretty much anything that invites McDonalds or Burger King to stick a related action figure into a kid’s meal. But I find princesses especially grating. I don’t like the helplessness thing, the dependence on a man to feel complete…thing.
Thankfully, T isn’t anywhere near as obsessed with princesses as her peers. With the exception of the “Wonderful World of Disney’s” Cinderella [featuring singer Brandy in the lead role, and Whitney Houston as the fairy godmother], we’ve managed to avoid Disney’s offerings of the I-need-to-be-rescued princess tales…
You see, back then, I was able to write about the princess thing fairly calmly, fairly rationally. These days, when the princess-mafia has my youngest daughter’s preschool on lock? Not so much.
I am so over the whole princess thing. Over it.
I want Cinderella to develop hammertoes from jamming her anatomically-impossible feet into completely impractical glass slippers. I want Belle and her books to go to a library far, far away. I want Sleeping Beauty to keep hitting “snooze.” Here, Snow White…have an apple.
I never want to see anything pink again. Nothing. I want that sheer-iridescent-pink-nightmare of a fairy/princess/angel aisle in Target to go away. Doesn’t it seem to close in on you, surrounding and entangling you as walk deeper in, like an enchanted forest…an enchanted forest of tiaras, veils, glitter, and feathered boas doused in Pepto Bismol?
And it’s not just that one aisle in Target either. How many times have I picked up what seemed like a good, no-frills pair of sneakers, a backpack, a thermos, a nightgown, or a lunch box–only to find the unholy trinity–Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty–stitched to it?
It’s too much. The pink, the heavy, gendered marketing to children, the excessive emphasis on beauty. Call it blasphemy, but I can’t even get too excited about Disney’s much-anticipated black princess, Tiana. She’s still a princess. What’s the big deal about princesses anyway? They earn their titles by birth or marriage. Big whoop. Bah humbug.
All that said, my four-year-old does not know the depth of my grumpiness where princesses are concerned. She does know that I won’t buy the abovementioned products (“Mommy, look! They’ve got THREE princesses on them!” “Yes, sweetie, I see. ” *smile, nod, keep it moving*). Any typical princess stuff she owns, she’s received as a gift, or it was purchased by her father.
Instead of bad-mouthing princesses to the kids, I’ve opted to challenge the system from within: I’ve infiltrated the princess mafia. Didn’t Sun Tzu say, in The Art of War, we should know our enemies?
To wit: We own practically the whole library of what I call “colorized classics”–traditional fairytales illustrated with brown-skinned characters. So when Cinderella meets the prince at the ball, he’s wearing cornrows. Jack, he of beanstalk fame, wears locs just like we do. The damsel-in-distress schtick is still in full effect, but at least the characters won’t leave my kids with the impression that blondes have more fun.
The books are available through Hyperion’s Jump at the Sun imprint. Kudos to Hyperion for not only colorizing these beloved stories, but for also creating a good product in general. Some picture books I’ve come across are heavy on pro-black-affirmation and good intentions, but light on quality–poorly written, not age-appropriate, or otherwise kid-unfriendly.
The Jump at the Sun books have spurred some good discussions at our house about how princesses are most often shown as white, but how, truly, princesses and princes and heroes and heroines can be any color. Instead of blond flowing tresses, they can have braids and gold beads, like Jump in the Sun’s Goldilocks.
Recently, my youngest and I were in public reading one of the Jump in the Sun books. A little girl around the same age (4) wandered over to us, and, started reading along. After about five seconds, she shouted: “THAT’S not Cinderella!” When my babygirl shouted back, “Oh, yes it is!”, I was one proud mama.
As I’ve gone deeper into the princess underworld, I’ve required help from trusted comrades. My friend and fellow writer-mama Christina gives me hope. She writes often about her inner princess, and has blogged recently about two books with heroines we don’t mind worshiping. One such heroine is Zahrah:
In the northern Ooni Kingdom fear of the unknown runs deep, and children born dada are rumored to have special powers. Thirteen year old Zahrah Tsami feels like a normal kid – she grows her own flora computer; has mirrors sewn onto her cloths; and stays clear of the Forbidden Greeny Jungle.
But unlike other kids in the village of Kirki , Zahrah was born with the telling dadalocks. Only her best friend, Dari, isn’t afraid of her – even when something unusual begins happening to her – something that definitely makes her different.
The two friends determine to investigate, edging closer and closer to danger. When Dari’s life is endangered, Zahrah must face her worst fears all by herself, including the very thing that makes her different.
(Zahrah the Windseeker by Nigerian writer, Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu)
And last week, I stumbled upon something new for my arsenal, in the most ironic of places: Yes, Target.
As I pushed my cart passed the book aisles, a book screamed out at me from the shelves: PINK! But then something else: Brown. And I knew that face! It was Grace from Amazing Grace and Boundless Grace. But why was she wearing a tiara, pearls, and a pink gown? Hadn’t she proved her classmates wrong, in Amazing Grace, when they told her that a black girl couldn’t be Peter Pan? Hadn’t her Nana saved the day the day by taking Grace to a ballet of Romeo and Juliet featuring a Trinidadian female lead? Why, then, was Grace dressed like the enemy?
The book was titled–what else?–Princess Grace. But this was no ordinary princess book. The story was kind of contrived in order for Hoffman to make her Point about princesses, but that aside, this book was downright subversive! Grace likes princesses, the “pink and pretty sort”, but as the story unfolds, she comes to wonder: “But what do princesses do?”
Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes, Grace! This is a question that is long overdue in children’s literature!
Grace and her classmates eventually discover all sorts of princesses, real and imagined. Warrior princess Amina of Nigeria; Pin-Yang of China, who started a women’s army; Princess Noor Inayat Khan of what is now Andhra Pradesh, who was shot and killed by the Germans in Dachau during World War II for being a spy for the French. The kids learn about Cinderellas from Egypt, Cambodia, and the Phillipines. Hoffman also gives a shout out to Nyasha, a Zimbabwean Cinderella featured in John Steptoe’s Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters.
By the end of the book, Grace is adorned in a princess costume made of Kente cloth from The Gambia, and she has learned that “there’s more than one way of being pretty.”
Amen and amen.
For all my ranting and efforts to bring down the princess mafia, we’ll no doubt catch Tiana in Disney’s “The Princess and the Frog” when it hits theaters next year–if only to deconstruct it over ice cream sundaes afterwards.
Deesha Philyaw is a freelance writer who has written for Essence Magazine, Wondertime Magazine (a Disney publication), and The Washington Post. Deesha holds a B.A. in economics from Yale University and a Master’s degree in teaching. In her pre-mommy, pre-writing life, she was a management consultant, briefly, and then an elementary school teacher. A native of Jacksonville, Florida, Deesha currently lives in Pittsburgh with her two daughters.
I’ve been watching this post since the day it went up (someone immediately alerted me that my daughter’s picture was being used), and I’ve appreciated the good and civil discussion both in the article and the ensuing comments.
I’ve also been struggling with this photo being used…at the time I uploaded it, I neglected to put the “all rights reserved” license on it, so that it would not show up in a Creative Commons search on flickr–which I typically do with images of my daughter. Finally, I decided that the message in the post was too good to quibble about the small image, and that anyone who read it the post would not implicate the child pictured as “part of the problem”–I mean, she’s just a kid, right?
But today, this picture, in all its FULL RESOLUTION glory, is circulating widely through Google Reader, courtesy of The Parent Blogging Roundup, with the caption, “The Princess Problem: The Anti-Racist Parent.”
Yikes. Suddenly, my innocent child is a poster-child for racist mythology, and by implication, racist parenting, and…well, I’m kinda not OK with that. It has nothing to do with the content of this post, which I think is excellent, as are its author’s response to the comments throughout. If the Parent Blog Roundup wasn’t appearing on Google Reader with the image so huge that it literally fills my entire 17″ screen, maybe I’d feel differently. I don’t know. Is this unreasonable? I have some other images that might be appropriate to use, including some of Cinderella’s “wicked” stepmother and “ugly” stepsisters, who, true to Disney form, are NOT blonde and blue-eyed (this is something that my mother pointed out to me throughout my childhood).
I have to say, about my daughter, that she withstood the princess packaging for as long as she was not in preschool–then it was all over. She LOVES “princesses.” She also loves ballerinas, fairies, etc. Turns out, it’s all about the DRESS. The femininity. The other day, when someone called her “a little princess,” she responded, “Princesses aren’t REAL!” That’s a pretty good response, in my book.
I’m not going to be belligerent and demand you replace the image with something else–you didn’t do anything wrong in using it…but maybe I wish you would. Is that wishy-washy enough? I guess you could say I’m a bit non-confrontational.
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Mulan, Jasmine, and Pocahontas…not white, and not waiting for a man. As far as a classic Black story, how about Little Black Sambo? I don’t think we need to worry about princesses. I like to make sure my kids are exposed to a large variety of toys, stories and interests. I can already see my 5 year old daughter starting to outgrow princesses. Don’t worry so much!
Hi, Belinda…
I’m glad you appreciated my post (and your daughter’s a cutie!). I didn’t choose the image, and I don’t believe any of the columnists here do, fwiw. So I can’t respond to your concern “officially.” I’m guessing the moderators will if they haven’t already.
Nope, no response at all, outside of yours here.
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Disney princess madness? Wow, am I glad I missed that!
I remember reading a book of adapted fairy tales when I was about seven called Girls to the Rescue–I *think* I remember that some of the stories were set in non-European fantasy worlds, and they were all about girls (sometimes princesses, and sometimes not) saving the day and having adventures. There are also the Royal Diaries, which I think are actually meant for late elementary-ish kids? But they’re fictional diaries of historical princesses (my favorite was Elizabeth I, closely followed by Cleopatra).
>As far as a classic Black story, how about Little Black Sambo?
Are you fricking kidding me? If you’re not joking (badly), the history and original content of that story is offensive (and actually targets South Asians – seriously, it’s a Kipling story). Gee, no wonder you’re “Anonymous.”
>Don’t worry so much!
Thank you for playing the “How To Shut Down Discussions Of Racism” game – you get points for trivilizing concerns and telling people that they are worrying needlessly, and that your kid is the emblematic spokeperson for everyone else’s kid, but you lose for missing the opportunity to tell us how there are so many other better concerns in the world, that “worrying” about this doesn’t matter [answer to that concern: it's called multitasking - discussion of one topic does not mean others are not valid adn important].
Next time, please, continue explaining yourself, and you too can win at attempting to shut down viable discussions about issues you from your position of privilege or assumed/attempted privilege deem unnecessary.
This may be a little off the anti-racist topic, but for what it’s worth, my Barbies all ended up with crew cuts or baldness. I also put them in Ken’s pants, so much for the princess.
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I am honestly surprised that Anonymous happened upon an antiracist website. There is more to being antiracist than providing a variety of toys, and hoping a child outgrows princesses. This is not about little girls liking princesses, it is about children being inundated by gender stereotypes. It is also about the sheer number of pretty, thin, white princesses compared to the scanty numbers of anyone else. It is also about the proportion of helpless women waiting for rescue compared to competent self-assured characters. Little Black Sambo is a caricature (ie. belittled, stupidified, and otherwise less-than), and not at all conducive to encouraging positive racial self images and role models. Don’t even get me started on the portrayals of any non Caucasians in other ‘classics’.
Slacker Mom. The problem is that kids have not been firmly taught frim the beginning that toys are only fantasy and not reality. I loved Barbies with blond hair, blue eyes, and white from age twelve. However, include the other different colored hair and skin color. I always knew they were only fantasy like my GI Joes as well as my repkicas of ships and planes. I love them though I never wanted to be a real soldier. I cannot swim. I have a fear of extreme heights. I enjoy the toys of fantasy but not real ones. i judge beauty by inside more than outward appearance. Barbie is nothing but a lifeless toy like all the rest. My role models were my parents. Barbie was just a way for me to play husband and boyfriend with my GI Joes. I’ve collected them for decades without seeing them as anything more than toys.
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Almost a month later, I am still concerned about Nina Bonita. Out of curiosity, I ordered it for my son. I read it out loud to him at my parents’ house with other family around, not exactly listening but not out of earshot, either.
I was not in my comfort zone with this book. My entire family is white (except for my mother-in-law’s cousins) and we do not talk about race but consider ourselves non-racist. I was not comfortable with one of the early pictures of Nina where her skin was completely black and her lips were quite large and very red. I was also not comfortable with the repeated phrase, “beautiful black skin. ” To me, it felt reductive and somehow too fixated on race. Perhaps this is my white privilege showing, or perhaps it is just that I am not yet an advanced anti-racist. (Perhaps those two are really the same thing.) Regardless, I will probably not read that book out loud in front of anyone again.
Finally, I am still not comfortable with the idea of the rabbit going out and finding a dark-furred rabbit so that they can breed a colorful, “mixed-race” family. It seems to me to be modelling the patronizing idea that babies of color, especially when they are part white, have a special line on cuteness.
I can only assume that I’d be more comfortable with this book if my family and friends included more people of color. I’ve always lived in small towns where the populations were more than 90% white. I am one of the 20% of white Americans who do not claim to have a close personal friend who is African American. That’s part of why I read ARP! I have a friendly acquaintance from Kenya, and another friendly acquaintance whose husband is from Africa, but no one I am so close to that I would ask the favor of their opinion of this book. My minister’s husband is from Sudan…perhaps they would have some insights.
Anyway, I write this after the early-August “I’m glad you’re here” post, and I too am glad ARP is here. Perhaps no one wants to walk me through this, but if anyone does respond to this comment I’ll be glad to read it. Thanks.
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I can see some of the merits of your arguement, but I disagree with parts of it. The whole notion that Princess stories should end with the princess working and being single and happy aren’t really that true to human nature. Our instincts are to pair up and have families-that’s the norm of the human condition. The single, self-supporting women my age that I know are all looking for a man. The women I know who are middle-aged or more and have never been married or had families are generally lonely or regretful. I’m sure that there are women who are happy to be alone, but they aren’t the norm. Fairy tales are there to show us what we wish for, not what we might end up with.
That being said, my favorite Disney “princess” (who was never a princess at all) is Mulan, and my kids know that. We’ve talked about how brave she was, how she loved her father so much, and how the movie is based on a real Chinese legend from 2,000 years ago.
I have never restricted my daughter’s access to Princesses. She is smart and outgoing, with loads of self-confidence. She is eight years old, and loves science and nature. She enjoys reading, and is fascinated by fairies (did you know that Disney has a black fairy?). Her greatest example of what love and marriage looks like comes from her father and I, not the Disney company.
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My favorite princess is Elizabeth from The Paper Bag Princess. She’s feisty.
I may have to find the Princess Grace book for my classroom; it sounds awesome!
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Added this to StumbleUpon.
Karen…I know my response is about two years late, but I would like to discuss some of what you said.
You stated that your family considers themselves to be “non-racist”, yet there is a reluctance to talk about race. Part of being an ally is learning that it is OK to have healthy discussions about race, racism, and how they affect society. There is no way around it.
If you are the mother to a child of color, you WILL have to talk about race sooner or later. The subject cannot and should not be avoided because it might be a little bit uncomfortable. It’s about preparing kids to have a sense of confidence and empowerment in a world that will attempt to define them in ways that can be destructive.
I can see your point about the illustrations in the book…the description of very black skin and bright red lips reminds me of racist imagery that once depicted African-Americans. In that sense, I don’t blame you for being a bit uncomfortable with the illustrations.
However, I’m curious as to why the phrase “beautiful black skin” bothers you. You feel that it fixates on race, but I believe the point is to show children that black CAN be beautiful.
The world isn’t colorblind. Many children of color, especially black children, need to know that they’re fine just the way they are no matter what their skin looks like.
Here is an ugly fact…no one will love your son as much as you do. The world will not always be kind and accepting of his differences.
By using the phrase “beautiful black skin”, this helps to build self-esteem. I am not dark-skinned by any means. But I’m still a person of color and I see how important it is for children to value themselves in a society that seeks to tear them down if they don’t fit certain standards.
Most people are not trained to see Blackness as beautiful, worthy, or acceptable…they are socialized to view it as bad, criminal, ugly. Sadly, some Black children internalize this notion and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. By telling a Black child that his/her skin IS beautiful, this creates positive reinforcement.
Remember, there’s more than one way of being pretty. It isn’t limited to whiteness or near-whiteness. It includes dark brown eyes, curly hair, kinky hair, and skin that comes in shades from vanilla to chocolate.
Hopefully that explains it. Don’t be afraid to say “beautiful black skin” or “beautiful brown skin”.
African culture and African-American culture are very different. Caribbean culture and African-American culture also differ in many ways. I’m not sure if a Sudanese or Kenyan individual would be able to provide insights into a culture they don’t identify with, but I’m sure that they probably will see the benefit in a Black child being told that he/she is beautiful.
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