Among the piles of books in my daughter’s room is a particular book that I call “Oh my gawd!” Or at least that’s what she thinks the book is called, because that what I say every time she hauls all five pounds of it off the shelf and hands it to me. The real name of the book is The Princess Collection.
The book was a gift from my sister-in-law, who is a perfectly lovely person, and also a big fan Disney. I did not grow up with Disney, so I don’t feel the same sentimental attachment to the stories, but I did grow up with the original fairy tales. I’m not a cretin, after all! And I’m mostly good with all the new princesses that Disney has invented, especially the ass-kicking and culturally diverse ones, like Mulan and Merida.
But here is my latest, liberal, feminist angst. Are the Disney princesses too classist?
Being rich, more than being beautiful, desirable and lucky, is a much bigger part of the storyline in The Princess Collection. For those not familiar (do you live under a rock?), the stories in the book are extensions of the original fairy tales that talk, mostly, about what happens after the lovely, young women get married. My daughter’s favorite story is called A Royal Friend.
In the story, A Royal Friend, Cinderella is now happily married, of course, and looking for things to do with her time now that she is no longer sweeping the hearth and strapping corsets on her ugly sisters. I’m not sure where the prince is, possibly on a business trip, but the story begins with her arrival, in the royal carriage, at an orphanage (Side note question: What is with all the orphans in fairy tales?). The orphans, all adorable, white girls, who are approximately 7 years old, are thrilled to see her and receive her basket of books, clothes, toys and food. There probably isn’t enough to go around, because the basket is small enough to dangle on Cinderella’s delicate arm, but the girls are very excited to see her regardless.
The plot of the story unfolds when we learn that Cinderella will be holding a grand ball at her new castle and the orphans are invited. They are aflutter with excitement, but also concerned because they have nothing to wear. But fear not, Cinderella has hired a gaggle of seamstresses to sew fancy and bejeweled dresses for the girls. The modern day version of this story might be The Housewives of Orange County going to a slum in Tiaja and talking to them about facial products and getting their hair done.
The rest of the story revolves around a precocious little girl named Emma who sneaks into the castle with the seamstresses and steals Cinderella’s heart. Or something like that. Cinderella has a huge heart, so she is forever falling instantly in love with princes, and now little girls, who she invites back to the castle to learn how to be a princess and wear beautiful dresses, nibble on tea cakes and drink ambrosia from golden goblets. They have a discussion about how much work it is to be a princess.
Really? How quickly Cinderella forgets. Surely, she doesn’t think that toting around baskets of goodies that other people make and delivering them to poor neglected kids is as much work at cleaning house and cooking for a bunch of bitches. This is like Gwyneth Paltrow talking about how hard it is to be a working actress, and that the rest of us with just regular, old 9 to 5 jobs have it easier. The story ends with the ball, of course, and Cinderella agreeing that Emma can come back and visit her regularly to become a sort of princess apprentice.
Oh, the hopes and dreams! So now we have a finishing school that turns orphans into princesses and all you have to do after that is marry a rich prince. Are you starting to see why I feel a little icky inside?