Feb
01
Just Read It: CINDERELLA ATE MY DAUGHTER by Peggy Orenstein
2011 at 5am Posted by Rebecca Joines Schinsky
Published January 25, 2011 by Harper Collins
I devoured this book in one sitting—ironically, on my e-reader, which lives in a bright pink case—and it is fan-freaking-tastic. And I’m going to rave about it. You’ve been warned.
Beginning with the question, “Since when did every little girl become a princess?” Orenstein examines the products, culture, and messages about femininity marketed to young girls and analyzes their potential impact on the women of tomorrow. She acknowledges that today’s girls live in a world that tells them the way to get what they want is to look like Cinderella, and that is simply not acceptable.
And it starts with Disney, whose line of Disney Princess products has a whopping 26,000 (TWENTY-SIX THOUSAND!) items on the market and boasted sales exceeding $4 billion in 2009. And that’s just the Disney stuff! Sure, Disney says they are just giving little girls what they want, but as Orenstein points out, “when you’re talking about 26,000 items…it’s a little hard to say where ‘want’ ends and ‘coercion’ begins.” American Girl products initially appear to stand in contradiction to the Disney Princess ridiculousness. They feature young girls whose stories are set throughout history and are more about personal identity and achievement than finding Prince Charming, but while “the books preach against materialism…you could blow the college fund on the gear.”
So what gives? Why has girlhood been reduced to conspicuous consumption of all things pink and glittery?
Orenstein postulates that parents buy into the princess and American Girl crazes because they tap into both their own nostalgia and their fears that their girls will grow up too soon. The marketing world calls this KGOY for “kids getting older younger,” how’s that for disturbing? Both American Girl and Disney Princesses “tacitly promise to keep girls young and “safe” from sexualization.” The problem is that “they also introduce them to a consumer culture that will ultimately encourage the opposite.” And it will do so by segmenting the market to magnify gender differences and sell girls the “I am woman, see me shop” brand of feminism (if you can call it that) made popular by Barbie, Elle Woods, and Carrie Bradshaw.
Throughout Cinderella Ate My Daughter, Orenstein ponders the question of nature versus nurture and questions how much of the difference between girls’ and boys’ play patterns can really be attributed to a natural preference for pink over blue or dolls over dump trucks. Her take on gender differences? “The ones that exist become amplified by the two different cultures boys and girls are immersed in from birth. That contributes to the way their emotional and cognitive circuits get wired.”
To better understand how that happens, Orenstein visits trade shows, the American Girl store, and child beauty pageants (as featured on the trainwreck known as TLC’s “Toddlers and Tiaras”). She polls parents, toy industry pros, Disney marketers, and contemporary feminists. She asks how the IRL Disney Princesses (think Miley, Hilary, Britney, et al) go from “wholesome to whoredom,” and she looks to Grimm’s Fairy Tales for alternatives to the pinky-pink psuedo-girl-power picture books for which her daughter is the target audience. She marvels at the success of Twilight, noting that Bella Swan “is the true horror show…at least as a female role model,” but considers that perhaps her appeal lies in the fact that she is “so insipid, so ordinary, so clumsy, so Not Hot.”
Orenstein explores digital culture and the effect that 24/7 packaging of one’s every thought and experience has on young women in a world where “friends become your consumers, an audience for whom you perform.” Of course, girls aren’t just performing online. They’re performing long before that, when they dress up as princesses, or shake their five-year-old rear ends in choreographed dances for which they are at least a decade too young. And this performing comes at a price.
Girls pushed to be sexy too soon can’t really understand what they’re doing…they do not—and may never—learn to connect their performance to erotic feelings or intimacy. They learn how to act desirable but not how to desire.
When the culture of pink isn’t telling girls to act too sexy for their ages, it is busy fetishizing wholesomeness, which we all know can’t last forever (remember the days when Britney Spears proudly declared her virginity to the world?), setting girls up for a virgin/whore cycle that encourages them to “cast off their values by casting off their clothes” and to “view self-objectification as a feminine rite of passage.”
There is plenty in this book to be outraged about (believe me, I’m just scratching the surface here), and Orenstein responds appropriately, but she never judges other women for the choices they make in raising their daughters. Instead, she argues for the importance of empowering children—especially girls—with media literacy and encouraging them to be skeptical about the messages targeted at them. Orenstein acknowledges from the get-go that raising girls is a Herculean feat in today’s culture, and she never suggests that her choices are the right ones. In fact, she openly discusses decisions she has questioned or regretted. This humility, coupled with the call for awareness rather than a single, prescribed course of action, makes Cinderella Ate My Daughter a can’t-miss read for anyone who is at all involved in raising or educating girls today.
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I caught Peggy Orenstein on the Diane Rehm show the other day and found the interview fascinating. I’ve been wanting to read the book ever since, so I’m glad to see you’ve endorsed it!
Rhapsody Jill just reviewed this the other day, so I’ve been thinking about this book ever since. I have a 13 year old daughter, so I can attest to the fact that there is a huge problem out there. I myself was never a princess kind of girl, but my daughter was when she was younger. And all the while (when she still listened to me) I would pipe up and tell her that my favorite was Mulan because she kicked butt and stood up for herself, that it is more about just being beautiful, blah blah. At the age she’s at now, she believes in the value of good grades and works hard at it, BUT she is constantly worried about her hair, her acne, her weight, etc. and it makes me nuts. My comment to Jill was that while this author is dead on about all the issues, it is a LITTLE more complicated than just sitting down a teenager and telling her how she should think. They think we are idiots. Still, I really do need to read this book! Just to validate my frustration!
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Ok, I’m glad you pointed out that the author isn’t judging other moms because I’ve seen this book elsewhere and thought, “Oh great, another Judgy Judgerson telling mothers how they’re doing it all wrong and what bad feminists we all are and are ruining our daughters.” It made me not want to read it because raising girls is DAMN HARD WORK and I don’t need to feel even more inadequate. That’s a whole other post but anyway…
I think I might read this now.
My girl loves pink. She does and if I stand in the store and say, “What about this colour?” It’s all nope, pink. She’s actually gotten flak at school for liking pink from other girls. That makes me blood boil because I see all these teenaged girls and can’t tell any of them apart. It’s like they have hive-mind. So I encourage her individuality as much as I can even if it means more pink. She can wear pink while she becomes a rockstar/mountain climber (that’s what she tells me).
I did manage to take the shine off princesses though. She asked me what real princesses do. I thought of Queen Elizabeth and said, “They have to learn a lot so that they can help their people. That’s their job.” Didn’t seem so glamourous after that.
Don’t get me started on Miley Cyrus…
It’s funny how I have so much to say about a book I haven’t read yet.
Chrisbookarama´s last [type] ..Lazy Sunday Thoughts- The Cranky Post
All I can say is that my daughter (now 20) survived the pink. I struggled through her phases of girly-girl (from Cinderella to the Spice Girls to Sex in the City), and now she’s emerged as a smart stylish girl who has found her own way. I wish I had had more faith that my own (non-pink) values would indeed sink in, because they did. Beautifully.
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[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Rebecca Schinsky, Kristi Tuck Austin. Kristi Tuck Austin said: I MUST read this book. Thanks Rebecca! RT @bookladysblog Peggy Orenstein on Disney Princess and the problem with pink: http://su.pr/1AakMo [...]
My book is on the way! I definitely struggle w/ the pink! It’s very creepy to really think about the things we are giving our daughters, which is why a lot of people would rather claim the items at benign, I think. Like the cheap plastic high heel dress-up shoes you can buy for 4 years olds at Target/Walmart etc. usually with Disney themes on them. One girl at our preschool broke her ankle wearing the things!
When I see what’s happening with some children today, I cringe. Makes me so grateful for my simple farm-life upbringing and how I gravitated to nature, animals, and books.
I don’t have children, but this book sounds like a must read for those that have little girls.
Margie, given how awesome I know you are, I’m my one bit surprised. Thanks for sharing a different perspective.
I’d like to read this one. We have a series of children’s picture books about an adorable princess–she wears hiking boots (the first book is Do Princesses Wear Hiking Boots?), plays in the mud, builds forts, and does all the same things every little kid does. It’s really great POSITIVE princesses messaging and we hear over and over again from parents how relieved they are to find our books because their daughters want to be/play princesses but they need more positive role models.
Thanks for the review, Rebecca. Like I said, I want to read this one, in part because of my own professional connection to the world of princesses but also because of my obsessed 8-year-old niece. (One of my favorite pics of her is from her 3rd birthday. She is in a yellow Snow White dress, playing t-ball.)
This topic is always tough for me, because I love basically all things girly. I also consider myself a feminist. I also don’t want my imaginary future children to ever feel pushed into gender roles that aren’t “them.”
To be honest, sometimes I feel guilty buying everything pink and sparkly, because I know that it has a stereotype attached. But I like it, so should I deny myself when I know my own ethics and values?
Danielle- I totally get what you mean.
Chrisbookarama´s last [type] ..Lazy Sunday Thoughts- The Cranky Post
That sounds like an interesting way to strike the balance, and I’m glad to hear there’s a publisher doing it. I have five nieces (the oldest of whom is twelve), and I am just starting to get a feel for all that their mothers go through in trying to make these decisions and set good examples for them. Orenstein’s point isn’t that there’s anything wrong with princesses but that it’s problematic when that is the only option presented. I’m happy there are writers and publishers out there offering alternatives!
While I do appreciate this review (and this book is already on my TBR list), I would like to take exception to one thing: “brand of feminism (if you can call it that) made popular by Barbie, Elle Woods, and Carrie Bradshaw.”
I’ve always enjoyed the film “Legally Blonde,” and just recently saw the live musical at a nearby theatre. I think there are some GREAT themes in that movie/show, including the idea that you can be feminine and STILL kick butt. Elle comes to realize that she doesn’t have to be the ditzy blonde OR the boring, hardass attorney; she also learns that although you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, people are going to do it anyway. I think she’s a very strong character, and I have never considered her to be a role that plays into the idea of girls as princesses.
I know that’s rather nitpicky (especially since I might actually be arguing with Orenstein’s metaphor, and not yours), but I think that it’s an important distinction. All that said, I agree with many of the other things you’ve said here, and I’m looking forward to reading and pondering over the book myself. Thanks for reviewing it!
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You’re correct that “I am woman, see me shop” is Orenstein’s metaphor. She’s not writing off these characters wholesale (In fact, she notes that Barbie was initially quite controversial because she was *gasp* a single woman who worked, had boyfriends, and was implicitly sexual), but the point is, essentially, why do we think we have to pretty up feminism in order to sell it?
It is so funny reading these comments. I have four daughters ages 30 to 15 — they all hate pink. My youngest is just emerging from an all-black phase. We spent last weekend shopping for more color for her wardrobe — purple, blue, green. Anything but pink. I bought my oldest a Barbie when she was young, and she cut off all the hair.
It has nothing to do with the way I raised them — I have no strong feelings about the color pink. But the Princess marketing thing hit after the oldest were already passed that stage. It just shows how marketing can hit a chord.
But what goes around comes around. The oldest two have daughters who love everything princess!
Great review of the book! I see we picked out some of the same things
So much to consider that it makes me really want to go re-read the book.
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I find it interesting that you have a great review of this book, and then at the end of it your blog automatically declares that “sharing is sexy”. Seems we females cannot escape the push for sexualization…. A little incongruent.
The plug-in I use to bring up those sharing buttons is called “Sexy Bookmarks,” and that is its default setting. I suppose I could try to recode it or something….