beautiful

Makeup on little girls.

It goes against nearly everything I believe to be right for children. I don't believe in forcing gender stereotypes on children because I know that they'll find those on their own...and they will choose to fit with or to reject those molds as comfortable and enjoyable. I've watched a mom desperate for a girly girl provide her daughter with all the necessary princessy things and that lovely girly girl looking child choose, instead, trucks, swords, and sports as her childhood passions. I've watched another mom horrified as her daughter eschewed gender neutral toys and interests for everything pink and glittery. I know of one little boy who loves fairy wings and the color pink...and God bless his parents for allowing him the dignity to make his choices. No matter the reasons or influences, children know what they do and do not like. At the heart of it, I think the best we can do as parents or caregivers is to respect their passions and interests and give them healthy ways in which to pursue those.

There are some places I draw the line and it tends to be drawn right at the place between "age appropriate" and "over my dead body." I don't care, for instance, how passionately or desperately a toddler wants to wear tube tops and lipstick. Or a twelve year old, for that matter. Little girls are little girls and, at least under MY watch, they aren't going to go around looking like street whores in string bikinis and high heels. I can't bear to watch the "reality shows" that depict little girls being made up and tarted up and spray tanned all to win a $500 "beauty pageant" because, come on...if you're trying to teach your little girl that she's beautiful enough to win a beauty contest...why the hell are you putting in hair pieces and fake teeth and having her spray tanned and plastered in cosmetics? What you're really teaching her is "Here, honey, if we put all this fake stuff on you...THEN you'll be beautiful. If we don't do that, you don't stand a chance in hell of winning this thing and mommy really needs the money this brings in." Hello, future eating disorders.

Over the years, I've struggled with the makeup issue and my little girl charges. Most of them are fascinated with makeup, I think mostly because they get to watch Mommy or Nanny put it on and they associate with with "being a grown up". They want to do what we do, whether it be to help prepare dinner, to help vacuum, or to put on makeup. Usually, I can pacify them by pretending to dust their faces with a makeup brush, or handing them lip balm. As a special treat, we might paint toenails together, or even go for real big girl manicures together. I struggle with what is right...is it healthy or damaging to tell them they are pretty? To fuss over their hair and put bows in it? To indulge their passion for twirly skirts and sparkly shoes? Shouldn't the focus be on inner, not outer, beauty?

I admit I am largely affected by the fact that I've never felt beautiful. Growing up, any compliment on my looks was coupled with criticism. "You have such beautiful hair, if only we could do something about that mole on your face!" "Your eyes are lovely, if it weren't for those dark circles." "You'd be so pretty if you gained weight/lost weight/cut your hair/grew your hair longer/wore skirts/put on a little makeup/smiled more..." In retaliation to my background, I am painstakingly careful when I tell my charges they are beautiful. I don't qualify it or temper it. Just "You are so beautiful." I tell them this when they are dressed in their fancy dresses, when they are in jeans...when they are picture perfect and when they are covered in sand and grime and fingerpaint and sidewalk chalk...when their sweet faces are freshly washed or covered in the remains of a peanut butter sandwich. "You are so beautiful" End of story. I tell them all the time. To be fair, I also tell them they are smart, kind, polite, creative, strong, interesting, compassionate, generous, and clever. But it delights me to have a child who, with her hair all askew and growing every which way, her face covered in breakfast, and her jeans on backwards, can look in the mirror and crow "I'm beautiful!". Much as I loathe the focus on appearance, it would shatter me for them to ever think they are anything less than beautiful, regardless of what their appearance might actually be. There's a confidence that comes with feeling pretty, the world sees you differently when you have that confidence...and treats you better. I think when you feel pretty, you probably expect to be treated well by the world and you don't tolerate people who treat you poorly because you KNOW you deserve better. Maybe that's warped, but there's alot of scientific evidence that shows that pretty people are treated better...even in school classrooms.

But makeup on a child? No. You are beautiful as you are, my little one, no matter how you are.

So, I confess, I shocked even myself when I came up with the idea to take the Twincesses to a little girl beauty salon for their birthday present. When a home has twins with a birthday exactly one month after Christmas, well, the toy room and art closet get pretty darn full this time of year. They last thing they needed was more toys or craft kits (or even books...we haven't gotten through all the new ones yet!). Plus, once they are old enough to remember I prefer to give my little ones experiences rather than toys. If a gift is about giving something you know the recipient would enjoy, then I had to suck up the few feminist principles I have and take the girls to glitter hell.

In theory, these salons are a feminist nightmare. They are pink and glittery and completely focused on traditional, stereotypically girl things. Cheerleaders. Princesses. Divas...not a doctor or chemistry set in sight. These places are entirely focused on outward beauty...nothing about being kind, or smart, or curious, or brave. Just being...pretty. And pink. A little purple, but mostly pink. Bright, bright pink. With sparkles. These places tend to look like Barbie and her friends threw up in there (probably on purpose after drinking some fattening water) and then danced on it, probably in their heels, bustiers, and fake plastic molded underwear. It can be horrifying.

As soon as we stepped in and heard the Taylor Swift CD playing over the sound system my little girly girls started twirling in their twirly skirts and giggling with pure delight. It made me pause. Am I doing the right thing? All they could chortle about all morning long was "We're getting makeup!" Am I laying a groundwork for eating disorders? Am I going to see them on Oprah in 15 years weighing 13 pounds and vomiting up anything they eat, crying about how their nanny took them to get makeovers for their 4th birthday and they've never felt pretty since then? The only thing that kept me from hauling them back out the door was their sheer delight and apparent belief that they'd discovered heaven.

They got their nails done. They got "party updos"...and bless the stylist for working with their thin, flyaway baby hair rather than slapping on fake hair pieces. They got to pick everything...their nail color, their hairstyle, the color of the flowers that got put in their hair. I almost said no to the makeup...but I couldn't resist the delight on their faces that they were being treated like real grown ups...real people. They weren't being told what to do or what not to do...just "Tell us what you like, and we'll give that to you." They weren't once told to sit still or sit up straight...they were asked "Do you want to be a rock star? A princess? A Diva? Have twisties in your hair?" and "Great choice!" no matter what their reply. Every time the stylist approached them, she asked their permission to do what she was about to do...respecting that they have the right to decide who does what to their physical selves.

The make up was light...barely noticeable eyeshadow and blush and sheer lip gloss. But oh, they felt like ladies.

As I struggled inside with it, I remembered a piece from a favorite book of mine. In her memoir, "Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress", author Susan Gilman describes her experience walking into a previously despised...but unvisited...bridal gown store to find a wedding gown for herself. As she looked around the large, nationwide chain store, she realized that it was not...as she had thought...an anti-feminist hell hole. It had dresses...beautiful dresses in every size that women come in. It had a staff that treated every woman like royalty, no matter how she looked. She realized that despite it's girly girl traditional values facade, this was a place where EVERY WOMAN was told she was beautiful and priceless and deserving of royal treatment. It was, she decided, the most feminist place she'd ever been.

Looking around this little girl salon...taking in the tiny pedicure stations set up just right for short little legs, the movie star directors chairs that lift little girl heads up to the right height for stylist hands, the runway/catwalk where every little girl can strut down to applause, I began to realize that maybe it was not such an awful place after all. This wasn't a place that said, "Here, we'll make you pretty...for once" or "With makeup you can be pretty." It was a place that said, "You are beautiful, who do you want to be today...we'll help you be who you want to be today...we will indulge your fantasies without judgement...and tomorrow you can wash it all off and change your mind...because whatever persona you want to try on today to see how it fits you, that's okay. We will not judge or comment...only applaud because you are you and that is fantastic."

I can't argue with that, can I? That's the kind of world I wish for every child!

The little rock star and the little princess spent twenty minutes twirling and floating and giggling down the modeling runway, clapping for each other, posing for the camera...then jumping off the end of it and racing as fast as their sturdy little legs would carry them backstage to emerge through the beaded curtain once again. And the next day, with all the glitter hairspray and makeup washed down the bathtub drain, my lovely, wonderful, strong, brilliant, caring, loving little charges both still danced and skipped around their world, confident in their beauty and talents, sure that no matter what they look like they are, truly, beautiful...with or without makeup.