When I discovered I was expecting a daughter, I made several commitments to myself. First and foremost, I aimed to curate a wardrobe for her that featured colors beyond the ubiquitous pink. I envisioned her space filled with gender-neutral toys like building blocks, train sets, and puzzles. I resolved not to label her as “pretty,” as I didn’t want her self-esteem to be tied to her appearance. And certainly, I swore I would never refer to my daughter as a princess. That idea repulsed me.
However, here I am—having broken all those promises, especially the last one. The term “princess” has garnered a negative connotation for some, suggesting entitlement and tantrums, while for others, it evokes notions of submissiveness and decorum. Regardless of its interpretation, “princess” has seemingly become the antithesis of feminism.
Yet, I call my daughter “princess” every single day. What am I thinking? Toy companies, films, and the other little girls my daughter has interacted with have dismantled my carefully constructed ideals as easily as Rapunzel’s hair falls free. Over time, my daughter has developed a deep fondness for all things royal. For her, being a princess means wearing fluffy dresses, frolicking with animals, living in a castle, and adorning her subjects (which includes me, her father, and her ever-patient older brother) with glitter. In her eyes, the word “princess” signifies being cherished, akin to telling her I love her.
Is it unreasonable to allow my daughter to embrace her identity as a princess? Am I fostering a sense of superiority? Not at all. We’re not breeding arrogance or perpetuating patriarchal ideals as some may claim. We are simply engaging in play. My daughter views herself as the princess of our little family kingdom, and she’s not mistaken. We even held a coronation ceremony to make it official.
This fantasy won’t last forever. Despite her current conviction, I doubt my daughter will waltz into college wearing a tiara. Eventually, she will understand that real-life princesses may not wield actual power. And even if she decided to attend college dressed like Princess Aurora, who are we to criticize? If it brings her joy, let her wear her costume and sing to animals.
At five years old, my daughter doesn’t see a distinction between her imaginative concept of a princess and the reality of a figurehead. I don’t feel the need to shatter her delightful fantasy to uphold my feminist principles. Recently, she announced that she doesn’t want a job when she grows up because “I want to take care of my babies myself.” While I pondered my response, her brother interjected, saying, “No, you should go to college, get a job, and make your own money instead of relying on a husband.” To which she retorted, “It’s my choice. You can’t decide for me.” So, it seems she possesses a sense of autonomy after all. (I still have time to help her appreciate the importance of independence.)
We refer to her by various affectionate names: pumpkin, monkey, sweetheart, and goober. While “princess” may be her favored title (just kidding, it absolutely is), we also highlight the qualities we admire most in her—compassion, thoughtfulness, resilience, generosity, creativity, and intelligence. These attributes, combined, truly make her our princess.
For more about home insemination, you can check out this post on the home intracervical insemination syringe kit as well as this useful resource on in vitro fertilisation. If you’re interested in exploring options, visit this authority on home insemination kits.
In summary, while I once resisted calling my daughter a princess, I have come to embrace the term as a reflection of her unique identity within our family. Rather than instilling a sense of superiority, it fosters her self-worth and encourages her imagination. Ultimately, it’s about cherishing the traits that make her our beloved princess.
Keyphrase: “embracing the princess identity”
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]