Entry FeedBefore I had children, I had this vision that I would raise a strong, independent girl without any gender stereotyping.
I was going to name my daughter Jordan, a strong, androgynous name, and she would share my last name. She would wear bold colours, blues, greens and reds. She would attend sport camps, and play with cars and trucks. She would never wear a dress, have pigtails, or play with dolls.
Really, I wanted to raise my daughter as much as a boy as possible, so that she would truly be outside of traditional gender roles.
First came Son One. I don't know why, but my strong feminist ideals are mixed with strong romantic values. I wasn't going to raise a boy at all like a girl. Son One got a completely boy name. He wore blue; though he has the most beautiful blue eyes so blue was really the only choice. He had cars and trucks. He was big and tough, and we played into that for him. He was athletic, and we encouraged it.
Then came Son Two. Blue for his blue eyes, too. Strong male name. Car, trucks, balls and blocks. Again, we encouraged his athleticism, and even encouraged him to stick up to his big brother.
I was pregnant again. I wanted a healthy baby, but also sort of wanted a daughter. Husband really wanted a girl - all of his friends had girls, why couldn't we?
We got our daughter. We named her a nice, soft, feminine name from the Old Testament. She wore pink for her entire first year of life, except for one pretty lavender outfit she wore a few times.
Daughter has long hair we have never cut. She loves her babies (aka dolls). She wears skirts and dresses all of the time, or sometimes just tights. She does gymnastics and ballet. She wears a tiara for fun. A complete girly-girl.
And here is the worst part. I call her, "Princess."
Did you ever hear the joke about the little boy's first day of school?
Mother, "What did you learn you first day of school?"
Son, "Well first of all, I learned my name is Henry, not Precious."
If you ask Daughter her name, she will either tell you is it, "Big Girl" or "Princess."
Her brothers have pointed out to her that she isn't really a princess because she doesn't live in a castle.
I don't know what happened to my plans. I am still a feminist, though a stay-at-home-taking-money-from-my-husband-because-I-have-no-job kind of feminist. My daughter wears only pink, walks around on her tip-toes, and I call her Princess.
The good news is, with two older brothers, she really does learn to stand up for herself. And my husband and I have a completely equal relationship, even with the traditional roles we currently play.
Even if she is a bit of a princess, she is more like the Paper Bag Princess than Sleeping Beauty.
That is so ironic since I never thought of any of those things, never thought of myself as a feminist and yet managed to raise my daughter to be just what you thought your daughter would be...she does have a name that could be male or female; she never wears pink; she loves rougher sports because she is not afraid to get hurt; she does however wear ponytails and did play with Barbies...she is strong, independant, and is currently taking on the world.
Here's to all the Princesses no matter what form they may take!