The Day My Son Learned That Princesses Are For Girls

Erica Merten is a graduate student, mother, partner, counselor, advocate, cat-herder, and lover of all things pomegranate-flavored.

I remember the day my three year old son learned that princesses are for girls. It was in the context of his asking for play jewelry and dress-up clothes for his upcoming fourth birthday. He informed me, matter-of-factly, that he no longer wanted princess dresses for his birthday because princesses are, in fact, for girls and he is a boy.

“But I thought dress-up clothes were for pretending,” I asked, innocently.

“But I can’t pretend to be a princess because princesses are for girls,” he responded, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

What struck me the most about this exchange was that he couldn’t identify to me where he had learned that he was no longer permitted to enjoy things that were designated by society as “for girls.” He calmly informed me that he “just knew” something that had shifted for him within a matter of days. The child who unapologetically announces that his favorite colors are pink and purple, even at the admonishment of his five-year-old cousin, had somehow suddenly learned new rules. It made me think about the messages he and other children are receiving about what they are or aren’t allowed to enjoy, even within the sanctity of make-believe. It made me wonder how much a parent or concerned person in a child’s life can affect this development when there is so much subconsciously taught in our culture about a carefully-guarded gender binary. What narrative are they growing up to retell?

We’re all familiar with the pink aisle. Rows of dolls with made up faces, dresses and jewelry, all a vibrant shade of pink that stands out starkly in a sea of different colored aisles. And the grey and blue toned aisle of weapons, machines, and fighters. The way that we market to children affects the playground politics that enforce these rules even as young as preschool. In our language, we unknowingly enforce ideas of what we perceive to be a child’s gender and the attributes that each gender is meant to embody in our society. When we gush about how pretty and cute a little girl’s outfit is or praise a little boy for growing so big and strong, we teach them the narrow definition by which society will deem them appropriate. If at any point in their lives they should fail to meet these strict criteria or don’t identify with either gender, studies on bullying, intimate partner violence, and self-image have shown that the results can be devastating.

So what can we do?

Start by having the conversation. Be aware of the language you use when talking to children. What adjectives do you find yourself using more when speaking with girls? What qualities do you tend to encourage in the boys you know? Challenge yourself, and challenge those children, to think outside that binary. Someday that little boy might want to be a father; why shouldn’t he practice by playing with dolls? This little girl wants to know how things work; why not get her a science experiment kit for her birthday? Most importantly, speak up! When you hear children on the playground enforcing the strict rules they’re learning on TV and in the toy aisles, gently encourage them to think outside the box. What makes a color for girls or for boys? Modelling goes a long way in teaching children that it’s acceptable for them to break that mold. Intervention on the personal level with the kids you interact with every day can raise a generation that thinks more deeply about these questions.

While I inwardly began to mourn the newly discovered loss of my child’s freedom of expression, I outwardly asked him what kind of dress-up clothes he would like then, if princess dresses were off the list.

“I want fairy dresses,” he stated emphatically, “Fairies are for boys AND girls. With crowns. And earrings.”

Fairies it is, then.