When I was little I never dreamed of being a princess. I would sing and dance and play along to my favorite Disney films “Beauty and the Beast,” “The Little Mermaid,” and “Aladdin,” but although I longed for the adventures of Belle and Ariel, I never wanted to be them, exactly.
Ariel and Jasmine seemed to have too many boring responsibilities associated with their crowns, and aside from the gorgeous library, I preferred Belle’s original quaint cottage and village of residence to the echoing, impersonal castle she’d presumably inhabit as a princess.
Yet everywhere I looked, the heroines of my favorite films were princesses, either by birth or marriage. I loved the likes of Ariel, Jasmine, and Belle for their determination and independence, not for their status.
I didn’t understand why my favorite stories kept telling me that becoming royalty was somehow the ultimate goal, that I wouldn’t have my happy ending unless I either was or became a princess.
The potential negative effect on behavior that the prevalence of princesses in the media might have on children has already been well examined here at families.com. The beef I have with Disney in this instance is that almost all its heroines are princesses.
And they’ve been turned from mere characters in movies to an entire brand with a bevy of merchandise—toys, video games, clothing, even special parties—devoted not to the stories behind these often strong, empowered women, but the fact that they are princesses.
Even Mulan, one of the few heroines who never was nor became a princess (three of them showed up in “Mulan 2,” like Disney felt they had to make up for it), is often lumped with the rest for the sake of equality. I am a strong supporter of equality, but when Disney erroneously categorizes one of its characters for the sake of racial equality, it only does further detriment to the other social issue at stake: obsession with class.
I’m fine with Disney creating a brand for girls, showcasing those heroines (especially those from the past two decades) who were strong and took charge of their situations. When they do so, they should definitely represent women of all backgrounds.
But why’d they have to make it the “Princess” brand? They could just call the line “Disney Girls,” or something similar, and then they could include all their characters without awkward stretching of the definition.
We’re teaching children that the coolest girls who have the best adventures are princesses. We don’t get our happy ending until we’re a princess. Even if we don’t end up as one we should still take the title, because somehow our achievements are secondary to our status.
Why do we need to teach girls that they should be princesses? What’s wrong with being a normal girl? Even Disney’s newest heroine in “Princess and the Frog,” and the star of next winter’s Pixar feature “The Bear and the Bow,” either end up as or start off as princesses.
Tiana and Merida are dynamic women who dream of running their own business and becoming an archer, respectively, fantastic goals to which girls can aspire. So why do they also have to be princesses?
There’s nothing wrong with fantasy and wonder; I certainly made believe I was plenty of unrealistic things as a child. But I’m drowning in princesses, and I’m worried about what it may be teaching children. Let’s raise our girls with stories of strong but realistic women, no royalty necessary, and hope that Disney might soon do the same.
Related Articles:
Princess and the Frog Hints at New Era for Disney
Review: Disney Princess Enchanted Journey Video Game
Introduction to Disney Addiction
Examining the Cinderella Effect
Pushing “Up” into New Territory
Do You Know Your Disney Princesses?
Modeling Your Marriage for Your Kids
*(This image by Raymond Brown is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.5 License.)