By Zsofia McMullin for The Motherlode in the NYTimes
I
have a 5-year-old little boy, a living room filled with boxes of
soldiers, swords and Matchbox cars, and a complicated relationship with
fairy tales and the princes and princesses who live in them.
A
part of me loves it when my son decides to play princess. It does happen
from time to time — when we break out the nail polish and the sparkly
eye shadow; he brushes my hair, puts on my necklaces and we watch Sophia
the First. I am excited when he wants to explore a different part of
himself, and I secretly enjoy this kind of activity. He is an only child
and will always be an only child, and playing princess is something I
know how to do without thinking. (Go figure!)
But then there are
days when we sit down to play with his Playmobil figures and he
announces that my princess figurine is not allowed to have a sword. “Why
not?” I ask as I rebelliously attach a tiny gold sword to her hand,
only for it to be ripped out again. “Because princesses don’t know how
to use swords.” “So what am I going to do when the enemy attacks?”
“Well, you just stay in the castle and wait for me, O.K.?”
Oh, all right.
Because
clearly that is what princesses do in many movies and books: They wait
for their prince to rescue them. There are many things that are wrong
with this if you are the mother of a girl, but I am starting to feel
like mothers of boys should be just as wary of this princess-myth.
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