The Girl, the Princess, The Pea, and Me

I stopped short during story-time this past weekend.

In reading to the Girl from a compendium of fairy tales, I chose the classic tale of the Princess and the Pea.  But, three or so sentences in, I had to stop.

“Let’s read this one. It’s a classic,” I said.

“Once upon a time, there was a prince. The Prince was sad because he couldn’t find anyone delicate enough to be a worthy bride. So, one day as a beautiful princess arrived in his kingdom, he decided to test her, to see whether or not she was delicate enough to …”

“You know what? Let’s not read this one.”

And we read a story about a pirate who sailed to a mysterious land to find his lost teddy-bear instead. OK, the pirate was a boy-pirate of course. But, anything was better than the Princess and the Pea.

Because for those three sentences, I realized a few things about the story that perhaps I had never fully understood, or saw. You all know the story, right? A pea is placed under the lowest mattress of a stack, and the Princess can’t sleep all night, because she’s so delicate that even the presence of a pea under that many mattresses doesn’t escape her sensitivity. So, the Prince finally knows she’s the one, delicate flower that she is. And they live, apparently, happily ever after.

Let’s unpack this.

First, that Prince has his head up his ass.

Anyone trying to meet those utterly sociopathic expectations of his would need to have a self-esteem level so low that it wouldn’t even register. So involved is he in finding who’s suitable for him, he’s ignored the fact that he’s a manipulative narcissist. What vegetable would we need to test for that, I wonder?

Second; I don’ t think that delicacy is something I want my daughter to aspire to. Actually, I’m sure it’s not.

Delicacy of the kind that’s held up as a virtue in this story would require a herculean amount of outside control to protect it, which I suppose is where the Prince comes in. There are no happily ever afters here. It is a completely damaging view of any sort of healthy relationship.

All of this got me thinking about these traditional stories, and how much I’d love to rewrite them. Unfortunately, my versions would leave the princes in them with not much to do.

I’d like to see Cinderella tell her stepmother and sisters to go screw, for example. I’d love to see her leave the house, set up on her own, and start a business.  Because failing that, her marriage to the Prince is merely a transfer of who it is that’s defining her identity and controlling her life.

I’d like to see Rapunzel cut her hair, and learn how to base-jump.  I’d like to see Snow White write a treatise on modern mining techniques during her time among the Dwarves, and create a reform movement in the kingdom that ousts any evil monarch, stepmother or no (note: stepmothers sure do get a raw deal in fairy tales) . I’d like to see the Little Mermaid dump the Prince, who’s too thick to know who really rescued him from drowning. And on and on. You get the idea.

Above all, I’d like to see more children’s stories where girls and women are shown to be strong as well as sensitive, and in control of their own fates without needing to adhere to some ideal of womanhood as dictated by some bland prince, who’s only virtue is his princeliness.

I’d like to read these to the Girl, and offer her an alternative vision of what it’s like to be female while still feeling the magic of mythical lands and peoples far away. Luckily, I have a number to choose from, including those by C.S Lewis, J.M Barrie, Lewis Carroll, L. Frank Baum, and others.

Let’s forget delicacy. Let’s concentrate on the business of having adventures, boldly and with confidence, and without a prince to judge them.