Princesses 101- February 28, 2014
I want to thank my parents for my fine liberal arts education. My bachelor’s degree in Media Studies/Television Broadcasting was put to great use during my years in TV news and public relations. I only think of the Dance minor I completed when I look at my still calloused feet and reminisce about my 19-year-old figure. Why didn’t I appreciate that body?! And why did my parents let me minor in Dance?!
I couldn’t tell you much of what I learned in many of my undergraduate classes. Mythology, anyone? That knowledge only surfaces during the occasional Jeopardy round. There is one class that has stuck with me. Its lessons haunt me every time I pick up the obscene amount of princess toys my three-year-old daughter has.
Gender and Media Culture was some 300 level class I took as a senior elective in the Media Studies major. This course ruined everything for me. Every movie. Every fairy tale. Everything. Did you know that everything is a metaphor for deflowering a virgin girl? I didn’t either. Did you know that every story we were ever told or movie we ever enjoyed was subconsciously poisoning us as women into thinking we have to be saved by a man and that nothing is more important than physical attractiveness? Yeah. Now I know.
Everything was based on the “Cinderella Principle” or something. Don’t quote me on this. Basically, you have to have the makeover and magical transformation of the woman/girl before she is deflowered. The movies we had to watch included “Boys Don’t Cry” and “The Accused,” complete with violent rape scenes. We also had to watch a film version of Little Red Riding Hood from the 80’s with some doe-eyed virgin who turns into a wolf. Naturally, a metaphor for virginity loss. (Found it! It’s 1984’s “The Company of Wolves.” Ugh.)
Like every 3-year-old girl I know, my daughter has been completely seduced by everything princess. Well played Disney marketers. Well played. She LOVES princesses and I’m left stomaching all the metaphors. I don’t want to pooh-pooh the princesses because that would be scoffing at something that she likes, and thus scoffing at her. Here is my visual representation of what goes through my mind when I look at her toys/movies/books:
These are a little better. My princess thoughts warranted another graphic. Here you go:
The new Disney movies are amazing! I love some of the newest princesses:
My daughter has seen and loves all of these movies except for Snow White. (I don’t know how to tap into the Disney vault. How do they keep that think “locked” in the Internet age? Granted, I haven’t tried that hard. ) I see her glowing face when she giggles at the mice in Cinderella and when she twirls in her Belle dress. I giggle when she sings the misheard lyrics of “When Will My Life Begin?” Plus, when Ariel does this…
…it is so freaking awesome, I can’t stand it. It was awesome in 1989. It’s awesome now. That’s the thing. Even though I know all the metaphors and understand Disney princesses have extremely unrealistic hair, I love them. My daughter loves them too. So, I guess that’s why this weekend I grit will my teeth, bury my feminist fury and snuggle with my daughter on the couch to watch a princess movie. As a child I understood that these were fairy tales, why wouldn’t she? It’s up to me to make sure Cinderella is just a fun story and that I am the real female role model in her life.
So take THAT Gender and Media Culture professor! I will watch princess movies and I will love them! Well, before I start worrying about superhero cartoons and their unrealistic portrayal of masculinity and what it will mean for my infant son in a few years. Dammit liberal arts education strikes again!
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