It’s actually been a while since I finished reading Peggy Orenstein’s Cinderella Ate My Daughter, but it is A Book Worth Blogging About. I took notes for this purpose. The author shares a lot of my feelings about the trouble with maintaining role models in the media for young girls.
I was into Disney princesses when I was little, although Disney Princesses ™ were not yet a thing. I adored Aurora, Ariel, and Belle as individuals, but the company had not yet begun lumping them together in merchandise.
Orenstein comments on the transition: “Old-timers like Roy Disney considered it heresy to lump together those from different stories. That is why, these days, when the ladies appear on the same item, they never make eye contact. Each stares off in a slightly different direction, as if unaware of the others’ presence. Now that I have told you, you’ll always notice it. And let me tell you, it’s freaky” (Orenstein, 2011).
Orenstein (who was already an educated feminist writer before she gave birth to a daughter) struggled a lot with letting princesses dominate her daughter’s play. She consulted with other moms, who were equally confused. One mom allowed the merchandise in the house, but not the stories—seems backwards to me. A story is just a story, it’s not necessarily an ideal. But many people may disagree with me on that. I’m not saying that a story can’t have greater implications, but that opens up room for discussion.
I was never really into Barbie—she was too much of an empty vessel—could she not pick ONE career and ONE best friend and ONE car? I wasn’t into changing her clothes over and over again—wasn’t as fun as some girls seemed to think. Her legs were too rubbery to get them off and on easily anyway. Because I didn’t like Barbie, I don’t think I would have liked Bratz if they had been around then. But if I were raising a daughter, I would definitely think Barbie was preferable over Bratz. Barbie is at least an adult, whereas the Bratz look like prepubescent prostitutes. Then came Moxie Girlz, which are basically toned down Bratz, and now there is Monster High, which, as far as I can tell, simply causes confusion. Personally, I think the Monster High dolls are kind of cool looking, but I don’t know that they’re appropriate for the ages they’re being aimed at.
I did enjoy Jem and the Holograms—and I have watched a few episodes recently--that is a blog entry unto itself.
I imagine that if Disney Princesses ™ had been a thing when I was the right age, I would have fallen right into it. And I suppose there would have been worse things to be into. Orenstein reaches that conclusion: as things marketed to young girls go, princesses seem like the safest bet. Princesses do not encourage growing up too fast. Princesses are innocent. Princesses are many things, but they are not hypersexualized.
I don't know where the cultural fascination with princesses began, but if the recent royal wedding is any indication, lots of grown women have yet to fully outgrow it. I admit it-- I even got sucked in to the footage, and pontificated how this may be the only time I would ever see a woman walk into a church a civilian and walk out a princess.
I roll my eyes at the princess merchandise, because I feel it strips the characters of their individual personalities, and a lot of it is just plain cheesy. But I have been known to defend the characters as shown in the movies—some say my perception is skewed, but what I took from Ariel, Belle, and Jasmine was a strong THINK FOR YOURSELF message. These chicks are not settling for what they are “supposed’ to do—they know what they want. Even Jasmine, whose end goal is to get married, demands that Aladdin like and respect her for who she is.
One thing Orenstein pointed out jumped out at me. The princesses never have female friends. At least not in the best-known stories: Pocahontas had one, and Tiana too. I can’t believe I never noticed that. Everyone notices that they never have mothers—again, Tiana had one. I’m not really sure where Disney is going with stripping almost every princess of all female companionship. Granted, none of the male main characters have mothers either—but they have male friends.
Orenstein continued her journey by venturing to American Girl Place. If you’re looking for dolls that don’t encourage girls to grow up too fast, American Girl dolls seem like a good solution—but they are expensive! They were created by Pleasant T. Rowland, a former teacher and textbook editor, with the goal of countering Barbie’s glorification of woman hood by celebrating girlhood and forging a bond between mothers and daughters.
Again, I have to confess that American Girls were something I was into. My grandmother encouraged it—she brought me one of the books and the doll catalogue, and I was hooked. I was in love with the Victorian one, Samantha, and I did learn a lot about American history in the process. I haven’t read the books in years, but I enjoyed them at the time. And the catalogue itself was fascinating—each page summarized a book and had an outfit and accessories JUST FOR THAT BOOK. Although, as Orenstein points out, “The books preach against materialism, but you could blow the college fund on the gear” (Orenstein, 2011).
American Girl Place did not yet exist when I was at the target age, but I have since had the opportunity to visit the one in Chicago. It’s really just a large department store, but like FAO Schwarz and the Disney Store, has a vaguely theme park-esque atmosphere. The friend I was visiting and I wandered from floor to floor and stared at all the surrealness around us—doll accessories wall to wall, doll dioramas, a restaurant with seats and food for dolls, a doll hair salon. And lots and lots of money being spent. Orenstein observes that the mothers are fascinated by the accessories and the detail work, while the daughters’ main focus is on the clothes. What do they buy? Usually some of each. Forging a bond between mothers and daughters indeed.
In 1998, Pleasant sold out to Mattel, the creator of the doll she was trying to compete with (can’t really blame the woman, as it was a hefty paycheck). I’m not entirely clear on the timeline, but I’m betting that’s when the historic girls were relegated to the background and the “American Girls of Today” took over. And when American Girl Place came into being. “The simplicity of American Girl is expensive, while the finery of Princess comes cheap” (Orenstein, 2011).
I talked about the tween stars in an earlier entry. Orenstein describes Miley Cyrus and her ilk as “a different kind of Disney princess” and she is so right. I also appreciated that she mentioned my beloved Clarissa-- Clarissa proved that a female lead could play to both sexes, which encouraged Disney to take a chance on Lizzie McGuire.
That’s So Raven came next, and is to this day the longest-running of the bunch They filmed 65 episodes in rapid succession before Raven could age. I forgot about
That’s So Raven when I wrote the previous entry. It always seemed pretty harmless to me. Then there was the first Disney Channel original musical—The Cheetah Girls. It also starred Raven Symone, and I think its main purpose in life was to cash in on That’s So Raven’s popularity. That and to lay the groundwork for High School Musical. BUT, when I worked at The Disney Store, there was a song that used to play in the store from The Cheetah Girls which had a very strong girl-power message which actually bashed the Disney princesses. I still find that ironic and incredibly cool:
I don't wanna be like Cinderella
Sittin' in a dark old dusty cellar
Waiting for somebody, to come and set me free
I don't wanna be like Snow White waiting
For a handsome prince to come and save me
On a horse of white, unless we're riding side by side
Don't want to depend on no one else
I'd rather rescue myself
