My daughters are a delightful mix of contrasts. My six-year-old, Lily, is a delicate sprite—thin, with a wild mane of frizzy hair, knobby knees, and spindly limbs. Yet beneath her fragile appearance lies an undeniable strength. She radiates an inner fire that keeps her afloat, even as the slightest gust could topple her.
On the other hand, my three-year-old, Emma, is adorably chubby. While she nearly matches her sister in height, she carries a sweet, baby-like sensitivity that reflects her age. With the face of a toddler and emotional maturity to match, she shifts from giggles to tears in an instant, often collapsing into a heap of sadness at the slightest frown.
Lily is a blonde with piercing blue eyes, resembling her father, while Emma shares my dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. This leads to puzzled looks from strangers, who often question if they are truly sisters. Only once did someone dare to ask if they share the same parents, leaving me speechless—though a friend suggested I might respond with, “as far as my husband knows (wink).”
Despite their differences, the girls share a singular passion: princesses. Princess movies, dolls, and dresses flood our home. Having attended an all-girls school from sixth to twelfth grade, I was raised to appreciate the power of women. My teachers instilled in us the importance of self-worth beyond societal expectations. One memorable English teacher passionately criticized the princess culture, questioning, “What are we teaching our future women?”
Fast forward twenty years, and here I am, surrounded by princess paraphernalia. I’ve tried to provide them with diverse toys like dinosaurs and Legos, but the allure of princesses remains undeniable. I could restrict them, but I firmly believe that banning something only heightens its appeal. Thankfully, they seem to enjoy a wide variety of books and rarely ask for Disney princess stories.
Whenever they choose a princess-themed toy over something more empowering, I hear my teacher’s voice echoing in my mind, urging me to consider the implications. I sometimes feel guilty, worried that I’m letting down those who fought for women’s rights. How can I ensure my daughters grow to be strong and independent? I encourage them to face their fears and demonstrate problem-solving abilities. Because their father often works late, they know that when something needs doing, mom is there to handle it. I strive to teach them that they can be both loving and strong. But is that enough?
Not long ago, while at the park, my daughters were engrossed in the sandbox. Emma was deeply focused on her digging when a larger boy approached and snatched her shovel without a word. Emma immediately burst into tears, while Lily, looking like the tiniest fairy, stood up and approached the boy. I held my breath, reminding myself not to intervene just yet. I silently urged Lily not to whine or beg but also not to yell or shove.
To my surprise, Lily locked eyes with the boy and gave him a fierce glare. He handed over the shovel without hesitation. The icing on the cake? She thanked him politely. In that moment, she embodied strength, composure, and grace under pressure.
Lily returned the shovel to Emma, and they resumed playing joyfully, getting dirtier by the minute. The mess would have delighted my English teacher, but it was the display of girl power that would have made her proud.
So, my dear girls, embrace your princesses if that’s what you wish to play with on any given day. As long as you can demonstrate strength when it counts, you are on the right path toward empowerment.
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In summary, my journey as a mother to two uniquely different daughters has taught me that while interests may vary, the essence of girl power lies in their ability to stand strong for one another. Embracing diverse interests doesn’t diminish their strength or independence; rather, it enriches their character.