“Alright, we’ve got these new bell bottoms with a red tank top, jelly bean leggings, or the purple dress,” I announce. We have a mere two minutes before breakfast, and despite the morning rush, I want to offer my daughter some choices.
“Purple dress!” my 4-year-old exclaims, beaming with joy.
Internally, I groan. A dress? Really? Of course, she chose the twirly, floral, purple number. If there’s anyone embodying stereotypes, it’s her. She’s your classic “all girl,” as they say.
I take the dress off the hanger and help her into it. Buttoning it up, I watch as she twirls happily toward the stairs, her delight infectious.
If I’m being honest, I don’t exactly relish the fact that my youngest is drawn to frilly clothes and shiny trinkets. The Cinderella sneakers? Ugh. The tutus over pants? Irritating. I find myself frustrated by her affinity for traditional “girl” attire.
For me, buying those princess sneakers feels like a betrayal of the values I’ve tried to instill in both my daughters. It’s as if I’ve failed her. “You’re better than this princess nonsense!” I want to shout.
But if that’s what she wants, and the (ugly) sneakers don’t break the bank, how can I refuse? Is it truly harmful? Why shouldn’t I validate her choices?
On that note, I must admit something else: I absolutely adore my older daughter’s unique fashion sense. I shower her with praise for her cool style—she’s a thoughtful, artistic girl who gravitates toward gender-neutral clothing. Blue is her favorite color, and she loves her Converse high-tops and baseball tees.
I suspect she gets her independent streak from me—“Being different is cool.” She doesn’t fuss over trends or lament her wardrobe like her younger sister. The “twirl factor” means nothing to her.
It’s clear that my reactions to both daughters and their styles are quite unequal, and I feel awful about it. I can’t help but point fingers at myself (and perhaps the patriarchy, too) for this fashion dilemma.
The Complicated Relationship Between Feminism and Fashion
Feminism and fashion have always had a complicated relationship. Some argue that caring about appearances contradicts feminism, while others claim that fashion is a form of self-expression that is inherently feminist.
The messages we receive are confusing. Society tells us that being natural and rejecting beauty norms equates to being a “real woman.”
Honestly, I’m not thrilled with my post-baby body—my belly, sagging breasts, and everything in between. Acknowledging that doesn’t make me vain or less of a feminist. The only thing keeping me from plastic surgery is my budget (and a newfound journey toward body positivity).
Let’s not even start on my gray hair—I’m not ready to embrace that just yet. If I did, I’d be hailed as “real” and “natural.” But heaven forbid I look my age, right? Talk about mixed signals.
I enjoy makeup, I shave my legs, and yes, I love pretty heels. And guess what? My youngest daughter adores sparkly shoes and all things pretty.
Young girls and women shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting to look beautiful. We shouldn’t shy away from liking traditional “girly” attire. I’m no less authentic for wanting to groom myself. I know other women feel the same way about their beauty routines.
I can still be a feminist while wearing five-inch stilettos and a form-fitting dress. Dying my hair to hide the gray doesn’t diminish my achievements or intellect, nor does tattooing my belly to conceal postpartum scars. Caring about style doesn’t equate to being superficial. Feeling beautiful is empowering.
Embracing My Daughter’s Choices
So why should I be concerned if my daughter is invested in her appearance? Caring about how she looks doesn’t define her worth or character. She’s not shallow for loving fashion.
My little girl is also focused on winning at Twister, drinking chocolate milk with a fun straw, being a loyal friend, and excelling in gymnastics. She doesn’t equate her self-worth with her wardrobe—she simply enjoys pretty things, and that’s perfectly fine.
Rather than fretting over “Why does my daughter love flowery dresses? What does this mean for me as a feminist mother?!” I should celebrate her individuality and support her self-expression. Who am I to say that princess shoes are unattractive or anti-feminist? Not that she’d fully understand that right now anyway. If she wants to wear twirly dresses and sparkly headbands, let her be. If getting dressed takes a little longer for her than her sister, so be it. She’s dancing to her own rhythm, dresses, tutus, tiaras, and all. From now on, I choose to honor that.
Caring about appearance doesn’t mean that’s the only thing that matters. I know this because, while I care about my looks, I also deeply care about my daughter, the world, social justice, and my loved ones—all at once.
This article originally appeared on August 30, 2016. If you’re interested in more great content, check out our blog for more insights on parenting and self-care.
Summary: This article explores the complexities of motherhood and feminism regarding daughters’ fashion choices. The author reflects on her conflicting feelings about her daughters’ styles—embracing the “girly” while also wanting to promote individuality and self-acceptance. Ultimately, she recognizes the importance of supporting her daughters in expressing their preferences while maintaining her own identity.