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How My Toddler Showed Me the Joy of Embracing Pretty Parenting
When my daughter Mia turned two and a half, she started exclaiming—often loudly—“I have to be pretty!” This became her go-to justification for choosing pink shirts or twirly dresses over pants. My first instinct was to push back, reminding her that wearing a dress might not be practical for climbing at the playground. “I don’t want to climb. I have to be PRETTY!” she would shout back.
I assumed that the well-meaning comments from strangers—like “That dress is so pretty!”—were shaping her perspective, and I found myself frustrated, imagining a future where she faced unsolicited remarks about her appearance. This felt like the beginning of a long road toward unwanted attention, and I wanted to protect her from that.
However, as her passion for all things pretty grew, I began to see that it wasn’t merely brainwashing; it was an integral part of her identity and self-expression. My role as a mom was shifting. Instead of fighting against the pink tide that inundates little girls from birth, I realized my job was to support Mia’s love for girly things while also critiquing the problematic aspects of gendered marketing. This was no easy task and required me to confront my own biases about femininity.
Having grown up in the ’80s in a conservative Scottish environment, I was taught that tomboys were celebrated while girly girls were often dismissed. I yearned to fit in with the girls who wore pink and cherished My Little Ponies, but I felt pressure to be different. My friends and I would mock ads for girls’ toys and I pretended blue was my favorite color. I even belittled my classmates for their dresses and accessories, associating femininity with weakness. (No surprise I wasn’t the most popular!)
This attitude reflects a broader issue that many of us face: an ingrained femmephobia. Even girls who are encouraged to embrace their femininity learn that they may be judged or dismissed for it. Taking an interest in fashion is still often seen as trivial. While I thought I had overcome these societal biases, I found myself hiding Mia’s tutu because I was uncomfortable with the praise she received for it.
That’s when it hit me: the tutu wasn’t the issue. Nor was the desire to feel pretty—there’s nothing wrong with that. The concern arises when “pretty” is defined by narrow, often unattainable standards of beauty. It’s problematic when young girls internalize the idea that their worth is tied to their appearance.
What I hadn’t fully grasped was that Mia’s concept of pretty is entirely different. To her, it’s about fun and creativity—sparkly hairbands, colorful dresses, and playful accessories. When she says, “Mommy, you’re not pretty today,” she’s simply suggesting I wear brighter colors. Her definition has nothing to do with societal ideals and everything to do with joy and expression. In her world, everyone is pretty, and I wish we could all share her liberated perspective.
Of course, there’s work ahead. Mia will inevitably encounter the harsh realities of beauty standards. It’s going to be an uphill battle to help her navigate the narrow definitions of pretty that surround us. But for now, I’m holding onto the lesson she’s imparted: pretty is something we create and enjoy, not a measure of our worth. And that tutu? It’s definitely here to stay.
For more insights into parenting and navigating these conversations, check out this post on intracervical insemination. Also, if you’re looking for expert advice in the realm of home insemination, Cryobaby offers valuable resources. Additionally, UCSF’s Center for Reproductive Health is an excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
Embracing my daughter Mia’s love for all things pretty has challenged my preconceived notions about femininity and societal beauty standards. While I recognize the pressures she will face, I aim to support her joyful expression of self without imposing my biases.