A friend let me know—and not because she was headed to Target and wondered whether I’d like her to pick something up for me—that the big chain has declared this National Princess Week. Target urges you to “Celebrate Your Inner Princess.”
On offer for National Princess Week, Target-style: the Princess Diary movie, one and two and Pretty Princess Tales (that DVD is for the younger set). Other films include Enchanted, Tangled and then the Tangled Wii game. There are books, too and a board game, all with “a little magic, a lot of sparkle.”
And perhaps that sums up the marketing strategy: magic + a lot of sparkle=sales. I’ve got nothing against magic or sparkle for the record. Sparkly, shiny things are compelling; they are pretty. Got it, not fighting it. I do avoid places like Target for exactly this reason; they use everything they’ve got to tether magic and sparkle to these trademarked princesses (in the case of National Princess Week, that is) and they want my adorable, impressionable girl to wield buying power she doesn’t exactly have yet (nor should she) on their trademarked princesses.
That’s media and marketing literacy 101, obviously. It bears a quiet, little shout-out, though, when the promotion includes events, and the events span more than a week of your shopping at the store.
My friend Avi—in not her most PC moment, and citing a line that’s not hers originally—called glitter the “herpes of the arts and crafts world.” This glitzy preschool-aimed princess commoditization of is not just in the media, aisle, though: I came across word that Disney teamed up with Burpee (as in, yes, seeds) and now markets a line of Princess flower seeds. If the parents want vegetable seeds—and ostensibly have a boy or a girl whose tastes reach beyond princesses) they might be in luck: Mickey and co. has a line of vegetable seeds.
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My avoidance of Target, where so much necessary stuff goes for cheaper, might just count as a privilege. I see that my daughter would like the Sesame Street cereal or the Dora the Explorer band-aids (she gets the band-aids). The Lilly Pulitzer animal crackers; yeah, they are over the top.
On some level, I have made my peace with how much television comes over the transom here and how little Target or other big stores like that are part of our lives. I know that my feisty gal is going to looooove pink and purple either forever or until she doesn’t. I am much more concerned here in my little universe of family and community about her being praised for far more than what she wears or how she looks. For example, the way her long hair is placed upon her tiny body renders it a conversation starter. I haven’t seriously considered cutting her hair. I could, we could, but honestly, her hair is pretty and her papa and I like it so much we can’t quite bear to cut it. So far, she hasn’t asked to have it cut.
I care, too, far more about my ability—as one looming female role model, a.k.a. the mom—to channel a well-rounded self-confidence that wordlessly communicates how womanhood is about much more than appearance without pretending that appearance is a bad thing to include in the mix of whole person—or whole woman. This line of thought has pushed me to stare down some personal demons about my sense of self—in terms of appearance and accomplishment and a bunch else. I am surprised by how grateful I feel for this challenge—more to come about this. What I am certain about is this: a feminist preschooler requires a feminist mama to push on her growing edges, too.
Just because National Princess Week doesn’t send me, personally, into a panic doesn’t mean National Princess Week isn’t panic-worthy. It most certainly is. There’s even celeb coverage for goodness sakes.
