Every girl everywhere is a princess, as Sara Crewe and Frances Hodgson Burnett would have us believe. But what defines a princess, and how she looks, or what she wears? After reading "Sick of Pink," an October
article in the Boston Sunday Globe Magazine, I was reminded of
another I read several years ago in the New York Times magazine about so-called "Princess Culture" and its effects on girls and color presentation.
"What's wrong with being a princess, mommy?" is the question raised by Peggy Orenstein's young daughter--to which she responds, most everything. Everything that surrounds her daughter is about being a princess, about being clad in pink, and Orenstein's complaint is that Cinderella, pretty as she may be, "doesn't really do anything." Is Peggy right? Who are these princesses, as far as role models?
As a former Disney princess girl myself, I'd say I turned out all right, but I did hit a phase where I began rejecting pink. To that point, I also find it interesting that Ariel dolls are marketed wearing a pink dress that she wears in the movie for probably fewer than five minutes. I guess it's kind of tricky to market a standing figurine with a green tail and sea shells--perhaps not the most conservative option. Details, details. But as Orenstein points out, even Mulan is marketed in her pink dress attire, which she actually rejected in order to fight for her family's honor.
In a search for some non-pink princess friends, I found this altered image of Cinderella. After the pink dress the mice sew for her is destroyed, her ball gown is white, maybe even pale blue, and at no point after that do we see our heroine in pink. So what gives? Where did this picture come from, Internet? Can a princess only be a princess if she wears pink?
It wasn't always this way with pink. As Orenstein notes,
When colors were first introduced to the nursery in the early part of the 20th century, pink was considered the more masculine hue, a pastel version of red. Blue, with its intimations of the Virgin Mary, constancy and faithfulness, was thought to be dainty. Why or when that switched is not clear, but as late as the 1930s a significant percentage of adults in one national survey held to that split. Perhaps that’s why so many early Disney heroines — Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Wendy, Alice-in-Wonderland — are swathed in varying shades of azure. (Purple, incidentally, may be the next color to swap teams: once the realm of kings and N.F.L. players, it is fast becoming the bolder girl’s version of pink.)
Which brings us to what struck me this past week: the Globe Magazine article discussing the implementation of pink during the month of October for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Some survivors have reached a point of exhaustion and are tired of seeing it everywhere and having it remind them of their disease, remind them that they are waiting for their CT results (an excruciating process which I experience alongside one of my closest friends, a two-year Hodgkin's Lymphoma survivor). But a color, triggering? Especially one as cheerful and well-intentioned as pink? Distressing!
So what's the problem with pink? Certain fashionistas, like our gracious blog host, swear by it. I have nothing but love for the pink garments I own. Late last night, over pizza bagel bites and relationship moans, my Beloved Housemate and I ended up realizing that we both had pink bedrooms as young children and eventually rejected the color and went for others (my bedroom at home is now blue, but at school, it's a combination of purple and green). We also discussed the fact that, though we had Barbies, they served as a device to act out our own stories (camping Barbies, in my Beloved Housemate's case). We are now distressed that pink and Barbies are no longer simply a vehicle for imagination, but rather a part of a greater pink lifestyle.
For me, the verdict is this: I love pink. But not everyone does; the way some feel about pink is how I feel about chartreuse. And perhaps we should take into consideration how we suggest things (like an appreciation for pink) to the younger members of society. They may love it, they may not, but let's give everyone a fair chance for love towards all colors. Some men pull off pink better than anyone I've ever seen, and some women rock burgundy and navy like it's a profession. Love what you love.
In the end though, every girl everywhere is a princess--pink, blue, purple, or otherwise.
Images, in order of appearance: (1) Sara Crewe from A Little Princess (http://www.stars-now.net/images/movies/alittleprincess/lieselmatthewsthen.jpg); (2) Ariel from The Little Mermaid (http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f112/drsd2kill/LITTLE%20MERMAID/MERMAID15A.jpg); (3) Ariel dolls as marketed by Disney (http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2006/12/19/magazine/24cinderella.2.190.jpg); (4) Alternate Universe Cinderella (http://thetorchonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/cinderella.jpg); (5) Breast Cancer Awareness Pink (http://cache.boston.com/bonzai-fba/Third_Party_Photo/2009/10/01/pink_big__1254425291_3471.jpg); (6) Belle from Beauty and the Beast (http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/6600000/Belle-beauty-and-the-beast-6615760-300-336.jpg); (7) Still from A Little Princess (http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3287/3007972433_9ceaeb2883_o.jpg).
