Grimm Goodbye

I have made a resolution on this day.

I'm not a big fan of children, in general... It's cool if they're someone else's, and I can play with them a bit and then get them all sugared up before giving them back to their longsuffering, vaguely twitchy Mommies and Daddies. I'm fine with that. Apart from that, though, I'm simply not the maternal type(unless you consider Shaken Baby Syndrome a positive step towards Happy Families.)

That having been said, I recognize that someday in my future, I might choose (or be forced) to unleash a genetic copy of myself into the world. A girl, of course. Because boys are smelly. And they make me awkward. And one should never have to be awkward with one's own progeny.

And it occurred to me that it would be prohibitively intimidating to be answerable for the development of a whole new person in such a disorienting, frenetic, violent world (triple word score for that sentence.) Not only do parents face the obvious crises looming over every child (violence, sex, substance abuse), but also the less visible forms of mental/emotional/spiritual angst such as depression, peer pressure, and the (wait, wait... let me climb up onto my soapbox. Ooof... okay. I'm up.) unbalance caused by the manipulation of modern media/entertainment.

No, really. Look how much kids these days are affected by what they see on tv! Their lives are saturated with Paris Hilton and Hannah Montana and Solja Boy. Not that these are bad things (necessarily. Well...), but they affect the way children think and develop and interact with others.

THAT having been said, I'll get on with my original point (if I can remember that far back), which is: as crucial as outside influences are to the development of the mind of a child, I hereby resolve that should I ever have a girl child, fairy tales shall be barred from my domicile henceforth.

I grew up in a great age of Disney musicals... The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin... come on. Those movies were and are to this day great works of art (to me). And I lived through a great age of cartoon female empowerment; Belle was a not only gorgeous and smart, but a ballbuster and a hero in her own right. Mulan dressed as a boy to fight a war and save her father's life. Jasmine, too independent for a privileged, useless life behind castle walls with a privileged, useless royal husband, snuck out and dressed as an urchin to pursue a freer life (and interesting point about Jasmine: she was a royal who married a commoner, unlike most Disney princesses. She had nothing to gain in the relationship but a life companion. I think that says a lot for her). I would never say that newer Disney musicals haven't fought the good fight for girl pride and empowerment (the traditional, sleep-'til-your-prince-saves-you-and-kisses-you-awake Disney musicals notwithstanding). Never.

However, for all their girlpower and role-modelage, I think that fairy tale adaptations give a subtler message, and one I heard with my whole heart at an early age.

Love. What little girl didn't swoon when the prince kisses his true love? What little imagination didn't picture herself in a flowing white gown, waltzing around the ballroom? What little heart didn't beat for the day it's true love would ride up and carry it off to a happily ever after? Mine did. I dreamed of a dark headed prince in shining armour, and I practiced being carried off into the sunset (True story. On a rocking chair. I never told anyone that. I'm making you my Secret-Keeper.) And not that a girl shouldn't dream, but... I think that through the medium of Disney cartoons, I was ruined for the ordinary. I was made to be discontented with anything less than a prince. I was shown that a simple girl like me could accomplish daring feats and save the day, and then ride off in the arms of her rich, titled, handsome beloved.

It seems like any life would be blase after a prototype like that. But I beg to disagree... I ask for so much less than the fairy tale life, and crave something so much better: just something to call my own.

I spent so many years in romantic anticipation. Why did I not see that my time would be better spent proactively making my own life spectacular, rather than waiting for it to be validated by the presence of the princely stereotype? Why did I look forward to a happy ending and not an eventful story? I've lately begun to mourn the wasted years I spent in Disney ingenue naivete. And I'm ready- oh, so ready- to set that aside.

No single girl of a certain age is likely to be fortunate enough to NOT be told, "Someday your prince will come." I have been, many times. And people are well-meaning, so I try not to be annoyed. But I ask you this: what if he doesn't? Does that ruin the ending? Does that lessen the triumph of the lessons learned and the life full of victories and defeats and attempts? No, I think it's a distraction, and one I prefer to live without.

I attended a tiny religious school. One of the things that frustrated me the most while I was there was twofold: A. That many girls at school were DESPERATE to land a husband and start nesting and B. That as much as I scorned their impatience, I would not have minded the same thing happenening to me. Thank God it didn't.... And I don't mean to scoff at the people who did choose to make that decision so early. If that's your choice, so be it; I just think that a permanent romantic relationship is not something that should be forced or rushed into or really even "pursued", as it were. Fairy tales (as told by Disney) make love and romance out to be the destination at the end of the journey, or the prize at the end of the race. I have to disagree... to me, it's only one plot arc in the scope of the whole story.

One of our generations's zeitgeists (and the one that I appreciate the most, I think) is that it's not only possible, but rather encouraged for young men and women to run amok and accomplish things and have a life and enjoy themselves before "settling down". Marriage is now being preempted by other things. I would have resented that on behalf of marriage, once upon a time, but now I can't support the concept more. Is it better to enter into an early commitment and give up on your own limitless promise for a life of pursuing other people's limitless promise? Or is it better to live your own life for yourself before devoting it to others? And the answer is relative to everyone.

I am sick to death of living in anticipation. I am so exhausted from the disappointment of a life spent in wishing for something better and living for a future than may not exist for me. I am discontented with the promise of a sugar-coated happily ever after. I am bored by Prince Charming in all his irritating perfection.

Ahhh, Prince Charming. Let's talk about him. Sure, he's pretty and brave and good with a sword; chances are he usually has something romantic to say and is more than happy to warble sweet nothings in your ear in his clear midrange tenor voice. Isn't it fabulous how he dashes around the country on his steed, rescuing people and slaying evildoers and accomplishing noble... stuff? So... the older I get, the dippier Prince Charming seems to me. Maybe I value 5 o'clock shadow rumpled hair and that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Mr. Darcy climbs out of the lake in the wet shirt oh my GOD just give me a second.
Whew. Anyway. Maybe it's that I value the ordinariness of the Everyman. Maybe it's that other people's imperfections help me accept my own. Maybe it's that I prefer comfort and laughter and familiarity to an Ideal. Either way, give me a scruffy, awkward, beer-drinking, football-watching, jeans-wearing, imperfect boy over a Charming anyday. Bub-bye, Charming. It was real, and it was fun, and it was real fun, but I could never commit to anyone prettier than myself. Peace out.

If I ever had a girl, I would want her to grow up infused with the scope of what she could accomplish, not mooning over who she may someday marry. I would want her to envision where she'll go to college and how she'll change the world, not what she'll wear to her wedding. I would want her to be strong and brave and not ever once wait to be rescued. I would encourage her to look for what gives her happiness rather than what fills an ideal.
So, I have to accept that this whole diatribe didn't ever go where I wanted it to go and was mostly a single, childless girl discoursing on issues she's almost entirely seperate from and rhapsodizing about how sensible and free-spirited her non-existent girlchild will be. But I feel really strongly about this. There's nothing cuter than a little girl twirling around in a princess dress. But, there's nothing sadder than a older girl trolling for an unrealistic man of her dreams. I'm not talking about lowering standards... I'm more encouraging women to let fantasy compromise with reality and to not to judge men off of what they see on tv.
Whatever. I have to get back to work.