Slices of Life: 'Your Tutu Is Lovely!'

By Lisa Gibalerio

There’s an article that’s been making the social media rounds lately. While it was written in 2011, it keeps popping up on Facebook and receiving all sorts of positive buzz. Perhaps you’ve encountered it. It’s called “How to Talk to Little Girls,” by Latina Fatale.

The author suggests that, when we meet young girls, we should suppress the impulse to comment on how darling they look, how adorable their outfit is and on how cute their hair is coiffed. As Fatale writes:

“Teaching girls that their appearance is the first thing you notice tells them that looks are more important than anything. It sets them up for dieting at age 5 and foundation at age 11 and boob jobs at 17 and Botox at 23.”

Rather than have us be complicit in taking young girls down that pernicious path, Fatale encourages us to discuss more meaningful topics with these youngsters, like favorite books, for example. And to illustrate, she relates a successful story of her reading with the five-year-old daughter of her friends.

The notion of valuing and focusing on the intelligent and curious minds of little girls everywhere resonated with me. So I decided to give Fatale’s recommendation a go.

A few days after first reading her article, in fact, I encountered a gaggle of girls at a friend’s son’s birthday party. The author warned that it would be challenging to steer clear from commenting on the adorable accessories and overwhelming cuteness of these little girls, and she was right. With some effort, I successfully suppressed all comments pertaining to the colorful array of tutus and butterfly wings they were adorned in, and launched right into the topic of books.

After the initial introductions, I asked one young lady: “So, tell me, what are your favorite books?”

Each child to whom I posed this question would inevitably look at me for a few seconds and then proceed to take several steps backwards, before bolting into the company of a less strange adult. I tried again among the group, inquiring about favorite sports, favorite foods and favorite seasons. Mostly the responses were both halting and monosyllabic.

Then, as the party wound down, I surreptitiously whispered to one child: “Your tutu is lovely. Will you tell me about it?”

Can you guess what happened next? She basically crawled into my lap, as if to say “now we’re speaking the same language!” and proceeded to tell me all about her tutu collection and what a fabulous dancer she was and on and on.

All summer long, I have persisted in this experiment and I am getting consistent results, namely, that the four- and five-year-old girls out there seem more willing to discuss their dresses than they are to discuss their favorite authors. I’m not sure what to make this mean, but my hunch is, it means nothing. Many girls at this age go through a frilly phase and kids are inclined to talk about their interests.

I never freaked out when the first thing someone said to one of my daughters was, “Oh, aren’t you pretty.” After all, that was not the only message the child was receiving. We acknowledged her hard work and her clever insights, and often discussed books, the importance of sharing and of being curious. We also, from time to time, discussed the virtue of wide headbands over narrow ones.

I didn’t encourage Barbies, but I let them pass through that phase. And really, that’s all it is, a phase. I did my best to assuage the horrible message that comes with it and then I stepped aside. Same with princess play.

However, I have my limits. That I won’t let them watch the show “Toddlers and Tiaras” came up recently in conversation.

“It’s just a television show,” my 13 year old said.  “What’s the big deal?”

Having provided her with the expected response, I remembered Marmie from Little Women had a similar conversation with Meg. Marmie, of course, expressed it perfectly:

“If you feel your value lies in being merely decorative, I fear that someday you might find yourself believing that’s all that you really are. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind: Your humor, your kindness, and your moral courage. These are the things I cherish so in you.”

I suppose Louisa May Alcott and Latina Fatale are getting at the same point.

It’s my point too, of course.

It’s just hard to know where the line is, when a simple comment turns into an act of sabotage in the self-esteem of a five year old.