I Hate Cinderella

My daughter loves princesses and fairytales and apparently all stories that end in happily ever after. Yeah, I know, don’t we all? But lately, I’ve taken a serious stance against Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and all of Disney’s damsels in distress. I vaguely remember being fascinated by the Cinderella story too. I assume it’s because I envied Cinderella’s long, blonde straight locks as I fought with my own poufy, frizzy brown hair made worse by the relentless humidity of South Florida where I grew up.

Now reading the books, 30 years later as a mommy and a grownup, I’m shocked by just how grim fairytales truly are. Everything begins with the loving daddy dying, evil stepmothers taking over, witches casting curses and jealous women poisoning pretty young girls with apples. This is a post feminist woman’s nightmare. Women are pitted against women. Beauty prevails and handsome men adore young women who make friends with rodents and can harmonize with the birds. Yikes.

Somehow these “classics” (a collection of Golden Books) made it on to my daughter’s book shelf. Neither my husband nor I know who bought them but there they sit – favorites of my three-year-old daughter Lexi. When I’m forced to read the books, I present my own sanitized version that changes each time I read it. But my daughter is catching on. “Sally reads this story differently,” Lexi says to me as I rock and read to her at night. Sally is our babysitter – the fairytale filter clearly isn’t as important to her.

Why is it that little girls are drawn to these stories? Is there something in our DNA that makes fairytales so appealing? As my feisty pre-schooler trots around my house, preening in mirrors and applying layers of lip gloss “to look pretty” my “Free to Be You and Me” instinct takes over. I see my own daughter caught by society’s competing messages of Girl Power. She’s a strong personality who believes she can do anything while slathered in makeup. “I’m so pretty,” Lexi will tell anyone who will listen and “I can do it!” She screams if you get in her way.

Personally, I love the “Olivia” books. Olivia is headstrong and curious and her mom is exasperated and exhausted but loving – a welcome and honest mix of a mom.

The last page of the first Olivia book shows a picture of Olivia dreaming. The dream is of Olivia her sitting on the Supreme Court – she is surrounded by all of the justices including Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsberg (granted the book is now slightly dated) Each time we read the book, Lexi asks me to go through all of the justices. It’s a fun game we play. Lexi insists that Antonin Scalia is a girl’s name – to her Scalia is definitely a feminine name and that Ruth Bader Ginsburg is a man (not a flattering photograph of Ruth – poor thing).

This is exactly the kind of dream we want our daughters to take away with them. It’s not about marrying Prince Charming – because let’s face it – he’s a dangerous myth. This is about sitting front and center on your own, empowered not by a prince but because of your own accomplishments. And let’s face it, true power today is doing all that and wearing lipstick. And in Lexi’s case a tiara and a tutu.