But as I began to read, I found myself engrossed in Orenstein's provocative prose and fascinated by her innovative arguments. In "Cinderella Ate My Daughter," Orenstein does not simply attack princesses or the color pink, but rather raises compelling questions about the complex effects of the girlie-girl culture which Orenstein describes as an emphasis on things traditionally categorized as feminine at an early age on women in our society.
Orenstein's critiques of traditional Disney movies and the propagation of the princess culture are thought-provoking but not confrontational. She effectively relays her concerns about female passivity and objectification in princess tales, but not in an incendiary manner. When discussing princesses like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, Orenstein points out that these tales show weak female characters being rescued by Prince Charming and that their "happily-ever-afters" are limited to a marriage proposal. The Little Mermaid, as Orenstein writes, "actually gives up her voice to get a man."
Orenstein also comments on the lack of female solidarity in princess stories, pointing out that Disney princesses rarely have female friends they can look to for moral support. Instead, characters like Snow White and Cinderella require a male hero to save them from their troubles. In one humorous instance, Orenstein jokes, "God forbid Snow White should give Sleeping Beauty a little support."
The gutsy voice Orenstein employs to articulate facts about the princess culture renders her argument both entertaining and strikingly convincing.
The author raises the stakes of her argument by using statistical data to track the effects of the girlie-girl culture on the health and future of young women. Orenstein includes her conversations with respected sociologists and child development psychologists, who emphasize the fact that certain aspects of the girlie-girl culture promote a negative body image, over-sexualization and increased depression rates among young women today.
For example, Orenstein cites one psychologist who claims that the same-sex play fostered by the abundance of princess dresses and dolls is a "public health issue" that leads to lack of communication between men and women and higher risks of divorce and domestic violence later in life.
To illustrate the repercussions princess culture can have in our everyday lives, Orenstein offers detailed descriptions of her field research for the book, which included travelling to places such as Disneyland, the American Girl Place and Pottery Barn Kids. For example, a chapter titled "Sparkle, Sweetie!" describes Orenstein's visit to a child's beauty pageant, in which four and five-year-old girls wore makeup, modeled bathing suits and were judged based on their appearance.
Much like Barbies (which Orenstein calls "the fifty-year-old vector of all body-image complaints") and Disney princesses, Orenstein claims that these pageants teach girls dangerous lessons about the societal importance of looking beautiful and flaunting one's body.
However, Orenstein's argument is not one-sided. In "Sparkle, Sweetie!" the writer also tells the story of a girl whose parents encouraged her to enter beauty pageants as a respite from worrying about her disabled brother's health. By including anecdotes at odds with her primary argument, Orenstein acknowledges the complex nature of the girlie-girl problem, which makes "Cinderella Ate My Daughter" even more compelling.
The strongest passages in Orenstein's book portray the author's own struggles as the mother of a young girl. Orenstein gently laments that she is often torn between letting her young daughter partake in traditional girlie experiences and encouraging her to be strong, smart and self-confident.
In one chapter, the author relates a story in which her daughter points out a Cinderella sippy cup and asks why her mother dislikes Cinderella. This question sparks a distressed internal monologue that is both amusing and interesting: "What if instead of helping her realize Aha! Cinderella is a symbol of the patriarchal oppression of all women' my daughter had been thinking Mommy doesn't want me to be a girl?'" By telling the story from her own perspective, Orenstein constructs an immensely relatable narrative that urges readers to consider the implications of the seemingly innocent girlie-girl culture.
"Cinderella Ate My Daughter" is thus both an important sociological work and a unique examination of a complex cultural phenomenon. Instead of presenting a tirade against Disney princesses, Orenstein provides a careful, deliberate reflection on the fine line between innocent femininity and dangerous female objectification. She ends her book by proposing that "If we start with wanting girls to see themselves from the inside out rather than outside in, we will go a long way toward helping them find their true happily-ever-afters." Perhaps the greatest magic of "Cinderella Ate My Daughter" is its compassionate realism, a feature that makes the book powerfully persuasive for even the girliest of readers.
