When my daughter, Mia, turned two and a half, she began exclaiming—often quite emphatically—“I have to be pretty!” This declaration accompanied her desire to wear pink shirts or dresses, completely bypassing pants. My first instinct was to resist, thinking of all the playground adventures she might miss out on if she only wore dresses. “I don’t want to climb. I have to be PRETTY!” she would insist.
At first, I blamed well-meaning strangers who complimented her on her pink outfits, believing they were shaping her perception that beauty was paramount. I felt frustrated by their comments, fearing they were setting her up for a lifetime of unsolicited judgments about her appearance—something I believed could lead to deeper issues down the line.
However, as Mia’s fixation on being pretty grew stronger, I began to understand that it wasn’t just societal brainwashing. It was actually a significant aspect of her identity and a way she expressed her femininity. My role as a mother, who identifies with feminist values, shifted from trying to steer her away from the overwhelming pink narrative to embracing her love for all things girly, while also critiquing the problematic aspects of gender marketing targeted at children. This was no small task; it forced me to confront my own biases regarding femininity.
Growing up in the ’80s in the UK, I noticed that there was a certain disdain for girly traits. Tomboys were celebrated, while girls who loved pink were often looked down upon. I longed to be like those girls with their My Little Ponies, yet I felt pressured to conform to an ideal that rejected femininity. I would mock those who enjoyed dresses and sparkles, thinking myself superior. It’s no wonder that I wasn’t the most popular kid in school!
While Mia’s experience may be a specific case, many of us are exposed to a subtle form of femmephobia from an early age. Even girls encouraged to embrace their femininity often grow up learning that their choices can lead to judgment about their intelligence and respectability. Recognizing this misogynistic framework is crucial, but I found myself grappling with these issues when I discovered I was hiding Mia’s tutu. I was uncomfortable with the “pretty princess” comments she received from passersby whenever she wore it.
That moment made me realize I needed to reevaluate my perspective. The tutu wasn’t the issue, nor was the desire to be pretty. The real problem lies in the narrow definitions of beauty that society imposes—ideals that are often exclusive and unrealistic.
What I hadn’t grasped was that for Mia, being pretty was about adornment and creativity: colorful dresses, sparkly hair accessories, and fun jewelry. When she tells me I’m not pretty, she simply means I should wear brighter colors. When she claims she’s the prettiest, it’s based on her necklace collection, not some external validation. In her world—Mia-land—everyone is pretty, and I wish we could all share her inclusive view.
There’s still much work ahead. Mia will inevitably encounter societal standards that dictate who is considered pretty and who isn’t. It’s going to be a challenge to dismantle the damaging definitions of beauty that surround us. However, I want to embrace the lesson she has imparted: being pretty is an expression of creativity, not an inherent trait, and there’s no frivolity in that.
In conclusion, let’s celebrate the joy of self-expression and creativity, reminding ourselves that being pretty is all about how we choose to adorn ourselves.
For more insights on parenting and self-empowerment, consider checking out some great resources on pregnancy and home insemination at Women’s Health, and explore the practical options available at Make A Mom for those looking to start their own families. And if you’re interested in learning more about our journey, take a look at the terms and conditions on this page.
Summary
This article reflects on a mother’s journey of understanding her daughter’s desire to embrace femininity and beauty through her innocent lens. The author shifts from resisting societal pressures regarding femininity to supporting her child’s self-expression, ultimately realizing that being pretty is a form of creativity rather than a societal expectation.