I've never been one for high heels. Occasionally, I'd buy a pair, but they never lasted more than a couple hours, and they always hurt. I'd wear them because they looked good, but hated every minute. It's been years now since I wore any, and I don't think I'll be wearing them again. What really made me swear off heels for good is that one of my daughters will not be able to wear them. She has Cerebral Palsy, and the idea of walking in heels, while it might be the fodder for some fights when she's a teenager, is not realistic. So I figure, if she can't, then I won't.
Regardless of what I look like, I know that I will be the epitome of beauty to my little girls. That's how it is with mothers. My mother, in her seventies now, is still pretty to me; she is forever my mama and beautiful. When I was growing up, I remember her always in heels and nylons, and undergarments right out of the 1950s. She was like a lady right out of a magazine, coiffed and perfect, makeup just right. Classy.
I could not be more different. I often leave the house without makeup, and never ever wear nylons. Still, I hope that my daughters will see me much like I see my mom, as "old-fashioned." Because I shave my legs, and tweeze my brow, and wear makeup for work. These are acts of conformity that make me and others more comfortable, but which in and of themselves I don't enjoy or value. I wish I had the guts to embrace my inner Frida Kahlo, but I can't. I can, at least, tell my daughters that some women shave their legs, but not all, and never, ever, make it seems any of these rituals are requirements of their sex. Because they are not. Still, I know that I will be what my girls imagine when they picture what a woman is, because regardless of all the messages and images that we absorb from society, it all begins here, as they watch me get ready in the morning, as they observe the ways I treat my body and the regard with which I treat myself.
I've been thinking about this a lot this week because I saw my friends linking to the lovely piece by Lisa Bloom, "How to Talk to Little Girls", and although I liked a lot about the piece, I didn't repost it. Instead, I've taken some time to think about what is missing from that piece--it is, after all, just one essay, and you can't tackle it all in one post. I read some other responses, one by my colleague, Hugo Schwyzer, and a few others.
I agree that girls are too often praised for their beauty, and that that is problematic for many reasons. Beyond the fact of it's superficiality, beauty is a cultural standard that not every person will fit. Some people are what our society considers "ugly" or "plain" etc. But we know that beauty can also mean something inside, that the "beautiful girls" can be really really ugly sometimes, and that the plain girl can be truly beautiful. These terms get complicated once you allow them to signify something more than skin deep. But how do you explain all that to a child? to a toddler?
Of course, skin deep is usually how we intend to use these terms when talking about children, and often about adults too. When we first meet someone, or spy someone from afar, all we see is their exterior. When we meet children, I think the instinct for most people is to be kind and to say something we think of as kind. So, we say, "she's so pretty" or "he's so handsome." We can't say "you are so smart" to a child we just met, because we don't know if he or she is. Unlike whether or not a person fits our culture's definition of beauty, determining intelligence is understood to be more complicated.
But what about the children and people who are not beautiful in our culture's very skewed perception? What about those who are scarred, disabled, ill, overweight, underweight, or just funny-looking? Once these children are old enough to understand that they don't fit our society's definition of the label, thoughtlessy throwing out platitudes of "you're so pretty" ring immediately false. I went through a very awkward adolescence and I hated being told I was pretty by relatives. I remember thinking that if I really was pretty, it would be my classmates saying it, not my old family members. What do we say then? How do we convey what is often the truth, that these individuals are beautiful, for many reasons deeper than their skin. My fifteen year old self would have wanted to commit suicide if she woke up in my current body. But my thirty-two year old self loves this scarred, stretched, curvy, and imperfect body. It took me many years to develop this understanding of beauty, but I am so grateful that I did.
In short, these labels are tough to use in any coherent way. I try to go a middle way between never mentioning appearance and mentioning it all the time. Instead, we try these things to impart a healthy view of beauty and sense of self-worth:
1. Praise sparingly, and when we do, really mean it. We aim to be descriptive and sincere, not pat. I think it's lovely to tell a child, "Your eyes are so deep and brown and beautiful. I love looking into them."
2. Recognize the full spectrum of a child's "beauty" inside and out. Like many of us, there will come a time when my girls feel alienated by our society's definition of beauty and so I try to give them a definition of beauty and worth that is more than skin deep. I say, "Your legs are so strong! You're jumping just like a bunny. Can I jump too?"
3. Remember all the research about the dangers of praise, and instead, sometimes just offer neutral feedback which allows our child to feel seen, but not judged. Children want to be seen. My daughter has the self-knowledge and communication skills to tell us this, "Mommy, I want your attention." That's helpful and honest. But attention is different from praise. So, I'll watch her a while and tell her, "You just drew a big blue butterfly. What are you going to draw next?" I know she appreciates that more than a cursory "good job" as I check my email.
4. Think about how we would talk to any particular child if he or she were of another gender. In other words, if I wouldn't praise a boy for his appearance, then I shouldn't do it for a girl. If I would instead focus on the boys interests, like trucks or pirates, then I should do the same for a girl. This is hard to do, and I forget to do this often, but when I do, I am always glad because it allows me to engage my children and others in a more full way.
5. Don't fastfoward. It is inevitable for girls to encounter the toxic culture of beauty, but we don't need to push them into it. My eldest is three, so we aren't talking about "fashion." If textiles and making clothes should interest her as she is old enough to engage in those activities, then yes, we will start to explore, together, fashion, like anything else. But I am doing my damndest to insulate her from advertising and media that presents a very sick and distorted view of beauty. For us, that means very little television, no commercials, no fashion magazines, and a carefully curated library of books and toys. She's three. When she's older, I'll teach her how to respond to pop culture from a feminist perspective, but not yet. One day, she may want to get her ears, or something, pierced, to dye her hair, to paint her nails, but not yet. Right now, she is still fingerpainting and playing with dirt.
Figuring out to raise children to value themselves for the things they do, for their kindness, their sense of humor, and their innumerable other virtues is not easy in a culture that values people often for their appearance or wealth, but it is an endeavor worth working at.
I'd be interested to hear any other ideas you have for how to teach our children the true meanings of beauty and to cultivate a sense of worth based on much more than looks.
