I grew up with Disney.
We had 34 Disney videos on our fireplace mantle, most of them featuring a princess. Blonde, brunette, redhead, privileged, gifted and under-appreciated; all thirty-one flavours.
I loved them and all of their fairy tale wonders... Strike that, I love them (present tense). I am also a power tool junkie, a savvy business women, and can take my husband in a fight with one arm tied behind my back. Thanks to the princesses, I also love wearing evening gowns, doing my hair and going on a romantic walk with the man I love.
For me, Cinderella, Jasmine, Belle, and Ariel were inspirational. I think that, without them, I may never have found such pride in feeling beautiful and confident as a woman, not just as a person. I love feeling pretty and having all eyes on me; I love when my husband protects me and acts with chivalry, even though I am strong, smart and can do just about everything I want to on my own.
When I was a child, my family all got together one Christmas to give me everything from the bright pink Barbie aisle at the toy store: the horse, the convertible, the wardrobe of clothes, the man and of course, the girl herself. I received just one present that year that had nothing to do with Barbie.
I cried and cried and cried.
Barbie looks and dresses and dances just like the princesses. What is the problem? Why had I, and have I, never shown any interest in Barbie? (forget about why would my family decided to buy nothing but Barbie even though I had never shown any interest in her). Barbie is too two-dimensional. She has no flaws, no depth, no dark past, and no bright future. All she is, is a doll; even if you have a great imagination and give her life when you play with her, what is she?
The Princesses have lives. They have dark sides, histories and something they are moving toward. They aren’t my idols by any means, but they do present a quiet side of myself that I like to let shine from time to time and cherish.