princess

In the midst of a week that’s been rife with sadness and confusion, I am pleased to present to you a story that is unequivocally happy. A fairy tale ending, if you will.

Every one of those “such a boy” comments make me hurt for all the other kids who hear these comments every day. Because of the many, many kids who cannot so easily hide the parts of themselves that don’t garner instant approval, knowing looks, happy eye-rolls. Because the culture that celebrates my son’s love of trucks and refuses to acknowledge his love of princesses is the same culture that shames and isolates trans and gender non-conforming kids every day.

And so, because I love my child, I am doing the thing I swore I’d never do: planning a princess party for my daughter. I am doing the thing that will make her happiest. I am helping her embrace her femininity by letting her be nothing other than who she wants to be.

Despite the swordplay failings in Peter Pan Live , I must applaud NBC for removing a brick in my daughter's gender wall.

I got food poisoning the day of Christmas, at age 8.

We want to be where the Little Mermaid wedding guests are. We want to see, want to see them dancing . . .

Figure skating judges are into: 19^th century Slavic folk music, frou-frou princess outfits, poetic dancing, dignified twirls.

Kids see it, we see it, the American people see it: Disney princesses perpetuate an unrealistic portrayal of the female body.