Embracing the Princess: A Journey of Parenting

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When I found out I was expecting a little girl, I made a few promises to myself. First, I was determined to create a wardrobe for her filled with colors other than pink. I wanted her room stocked with gender-neutral toys like building blocks, trains, and puzzles. I vowed never to call her “pretty,” as I didn’t want her to think her worth was tied to her appearance. And, most importantly, I promised I would never, ever refer to her as a princess. Ugh. Yuck.

Well—surprise! I’ve broken all those promises, and the most shocking of all is that last one. The term “princess” has become almost taboo, conjuring images of entitlement and tantrums for some, while others associate it with passivity and conformity. Somehow, calling my daughter a “princess” has been labeled anti-feminist.

Yet, I find myself calling my daughter a princess every single day. What in the world am I doing? Toy companies, movies, and every little girl she’s ever played with have completely unraveled my careful intentions, much like Rapunzel’s hair (seriously, Disney, it wasn’t that tangled). Bombarded from all sides, my daughter has developed an unshakeable love for all things royal. To her, being a princess means wearing fluffy dresses while playing with animals, living in a castle, and sprinkling glitter on her loyal subjects (me, her dad, and her wonderfully patient older brother). For her, being called a princess is akin to hearing “I love you.”

But isn’t it unfair to let her think she’s a princess? Isn’t that just going to spoil her and make her feel superior? Nope. We’re not raising her to be arrogant, nor are we enforcing any outdated ideals. We’re simply having fun. My daughter sees herself as the princess of our little family kingdom, and she’s not wrong—there was even a coronation ceremony!

This phase isn’t permanent. As much as she believes she’s a real princess now, I doubt she’ll show up to college orientation in a tiara. By then, she’ll likely understand that she’s not part of an actual monarchy. And honestly, if she did show up dressed like Princess Aurora, who are we to judge? If it makes her happy, let her wear that ridiculous dress and sing to squirrels.

At five years old, she doesn’t yet see the difference between her imaginative view of a princess and the reality of someone who might just be a figurehead. I’m not about to crush her innocent fantasy just to keep my feminist credentials intact. The other day, she announced she didn’t want a job when she grows up because “I want to take care of my babies myself.” My son quickly chimed in and said, “No, you should go to college and make your own money.” To which she replied, “It’s my choice. You can’t decide for me.” So, yes, she’s a feminist in her own right!

We do call her other names too—sweetheart, goober, and monkey, among others. But “princess” might just be her favorite (totally not kidding). We also emphasize the qualities we admire in her, like her kindness, creativity, and intelligence. Those are the traits that truly make her our princess.

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In summary, calling my daughter a princess is not about instilling entitlement but about celebrating her uniqueness and creativity in our little kingdom. It’s a playful way to reinforce her specialness without undermining her independence or self-worth.