Pretty girls in little boxes
I have an adorable little girl. See?
E. is funny, thoughtful and has a very developed sense of social justice for someone just four years old. But if you meet her, the first thing you notice is her looks. Some of this is due to the fact that all small children are adorable: that perfect skin! The precious, pearly white teeth in their smiles! Their shining, curious eyes.
E. has some bonus features working for her, though, with her golden blond hair, bright blue eyes and peek-a-boo dimple. She oriented to the word "cute" like it was her name by the time she was nine months old. When she was two, a nation-wide chain photography store asked to use her picture for their ads. We declined for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that she would hate modeling. But people have been commenting to E about her looks since before she could comprehend speech, and unfortunately, that message has sunk in loud and clear.
She has decided that her appearance is the most important thing about her, and she spends a lot of time worrying about whether her friends or teachers will think she is pretty. We have told her repeatedly that her friends don't care about her clothes or jewelry, but it's a hard lesson to stick when she arrives at preschool to a round of comments about her dress, her hair, or her shoes. It's usually the adults making these remarks, but the other girls in her class are also incredibly attuned to looks as well. When we go out, strangers stop to tell E. how beautiful she is on an hourly basis. They compliment her outfits. Everyone is well meaning and very sweet, and I do get it. They want to make conversation with a giggling, vivacious little girl. The easiest entry is through her appearance. I also know this problem is not unique to E. People talk to girls way more often about their appearance as compared with boys. I catch myself doing it sometimes with little girls I do not know -- "Nice shoes!" or "That's a really pretty hair ribbon you have." It's so engrained that it's a hard habit to stop.
But in seeing the effect on E, I am trying to do better. Now when I meet a little girl, I try to ask if she likes to read, and if so, what her favorite book is. Or I ask if she likes to play in the park. With E., we have been emphasizing clothes as a vehicle for other things. When she wants me to admire her shoes, I say they look like they would be great for jumping. We praise her for her amazing willingness to share, for her sense of humor, and for when she battles her natural reserve to try something new. These are the qualities she will need for success, and I want her to be able to see them in herself -- and for her not to have to look into a mirror (or God forbid other people) to know who she is.
In the meantime, I am just hoping for some really awkward teen years. ;-)
E. is funny, thoughtful and has a very developed sense of social justice for someone just four years old. But if you meet her, the first thing you notice is her looks. Some of this is due to the fact that all small children are adorable: that perfect skin! The precious, pearly white teeth in their smiles! Their shining, curious eyes.
E. has some bonus features working for her, though, with her golden blond hair, bright blue eyes and peek-a-boo dimple. She oriented to the word "cute" like it was her name by the time she was nine months old. When she was two, a nation-wide chain photography store asked to use her picture for their ads. We declined for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that she would hate modeling. But people have been commenting to E about her looks since before she could comprehend speech, and unfortunately, that message has sunk in loud and clear.
She has decided that her appearance is the most important thing about her, and she spends a lot of time worrying about whether her friends or teachers will think she is pretty. We have told her repeatedly that her friends don't care about her clothes or jewelry, but it's a hard lesson to stick when she arrives at preschool to a round of comments about her dress, her hair, or her shoes. It's usually the adults making these remarks, but the other girls in her class are also incredibly attuned to looks as well. When we go out, strangers stop to tell E. how beautiful she is on an hourly basis. They compliment her outfits. Everyone is well meaning and very sweet, and I do get it. They want to make conversation with a giggling, vivacious little girl. The easiest entry is through her appearance. I also know this problem is not unique to E. People talk to girls way more often about their appearance as compared with boys. I catch myself doing it sometimes with little girls I do not know -- "Nice shoes!" or "That's a really pretty hair ribbon you have." It's so engrained that it's a hard habit to stop.
But in seeing the effect on E, I am trying to do better. Now when I meet a little girl, I try to ask if she likes to read, and if so, what her favorite book is. Or I ask if she likes to play in the park. With E., we have been emphasizing clothes as a vehicle for other things. When she wants me to admire her shoes, I say they look like they would be great for jumping. We praise her for her amazing willingness to share, for her sense of humor, and for when she battles her natural reserve to try something new. These are the qualities she will need for success, and I want her to be able to see them in herself -- and for her not to have to look into a mirror (or God forbid other people) to know who she is.
In the meantime, I am just hoping for some really awkward teen years. ;-)