I have a very lovely daughter. I know, I know, I might be a bit biased, but I have had people actually approach us in the grocery store to gush over her. And the main adjective used seems to be "beautiful". She has gorgeous almond-shaped velvety brown eyes, silky chestnut hair that curls at the ends, perfect ivory skin, an exceptionally well-placed dimple on her left cheek, and a wide, joy-filled smile. Considering the fairly average physical appearance of her parents, I'm amazed that our genes could combine to create such a child. The day she was born (looking remarkably perfect due in no small part to her c-section delivery), a nurse commented that it was a shame she didn't inherit my red hair, and I remember thinking, "Are you crazy? She's gorgeous exactly as she is!"
That being said, I don't want to raise her to believe that her worth lies solely in her appearance. I'm not going to lie, there's a part of me that is proud of her beauty, and sure doesn't mind the attention it gets her (and me). But I was much prouder the other day, when while I was naming letters for her as she played with her wooden blocks, she turned a "V" upside down and said, "No, Mommy, it a triangle." That's right, she's beautiful and brilliant. ;) I was raised by parents who valued curiosity, inquiry, and academic achievement far more than looks. My mother never sat me down and taught me how to do my make-up or hair (in fact, she had to get a friend to teach her to french braid when I started demanding that particular style), but she did read the classics with me, trading off reading chapters, until we'd worked through Little Women, Eight Cousins, The Secret Garden, Through the Looking Glass, and many others. My father's sole contribution to my appearance was to send me back upstairs to change when he thought my skirt was too short (something I still see him struggle not to do with my 22 year old step-sister, the only one of my 3 sisters and I who is partial to mini-skirts), but he took us to the bookstore at least once a week, and will still pick up a book for me occasionally if he thinks I'll like it.
Those memories are a testament to what I love about my family. My mother is gone now, but I cherish the fact that she thought it was important to crawl into bed with a 12 year old after a long day at work and read. I love that my Dad has more books than square footage to house them, and that he lends them freely (although he writes his name in them first), and is truly eager to know what you thought of the book you borrowed. I love that he's so proud of the accomplishments of his children, big and small. I think he might be just as proud of the time that my baby sister threw a chapstick at her math teacher for implying she was stupid as he was at her college graduation. It has always been clear in our household: the most beautiful part of you is on the inside.
So it might be a bit surprising that while my husband was on a fishing trip last weekend, I found myself sucked into a marathon of the TLC hit, "Toddlers and Tiaras". It started innocently enough: I was flipping through the channels and I was shocked into stopping on TLC as I watched a mother spike her 2 year old's apple juice with energy drink and coke. You know, cause that's what you do when your kid is exhausted from practicing for a pageant and you have to shove her on stage in 5 minutes. I went into Mom-mode and silently (and a little bit out loud, I'll admit) castigated that mother for her, in my opinion, selfish and monstrous behavior. If you need to drug your kid to get her on stage, shouldn't in occur to you that maybe this isn't the activity for her? At that point, I was hooked. I needed to see just what other insane behavior would come out of these "pageant moms". And there was plenty, from the mom who laughed at her 18 month old for crying in pain over a hair piece (a hair piece on a baby!!!), to the mom who so clearly favored her son over her daughter that the poor little girl responded to her mother's question about whether she would win with, "Well, you'd be shocked."
Somewhere around hour 3, however, something shifted. Yes, I was still appalled at the antics of the moms (and dads in some cases), and I was amazed that no one found it odd to spray-tan 3 year olds or wax the eyebrows of 5 year olds, but I sort of started really SEEING the kids and thinking, "Well A is much prettier than HER!" I specifically remember one mom going on and on about the natural facial beauty of her daughter, and thinking, "What face are you looking at? She's cute, but I wouldn't say beautiful." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was judging CHILDREN. There, in the comfort of my living room, while my own child colored, I was looking at little girls and judging them based on their physical appearance. Yes, I know we all do it. We all have that friend who had the ugly baby, or the funny looking kid, or the awkward teenager. And we momentarily think, "Oooh, I hope he/she grows out of that!", and then move on, because it's not really important, and because 99% of us were at one time one of those 3 things (or in my case, at least 2 out of 3).
The difference here, is that these mothers WANT their children to be judged on their appearance. They crave the validation that comes with a crown and a trophy, and they teach their daughters to crave it too. They spend thousands of dollars to "improve" the appearance of their children from simply cute little kids to make-up covered, spray-tanned, fake teeth and hair-piece wearing glamazons. And then they teach them to dance and pose suggestively so that a panel of adults can judge them against similar glamazons and pronounce them to be the most beautiful. The judges call this dancing and posing "personality", and regularly say things like, "Brooklyn was so pretty, but she just didn't show enough personality." Meaning that she didn't purse her lips and pout while shaking her tiny tushie well enough for them. Honestly, about 30% of what's wrong with this pageant world is that there are people out there who find it appropriate to spend their weekends judging little girls covered in fake enhancements and then telling some that they make the cut while sending others home with tiny consolation trophies. Another 30% is the moms' reactions to their child's failure to bring home a crown. Some turn their anger on the judges, claiming that the contest was rigged or the judges were blind. But an equal number turn on their children, picking at them for failing to nail a routine or walking the wrong direction on stage (you know, cause 3 year olds sometimes DO THAT). So these kids either grow up thinking that if they don't get what they want, then it's someone else's fault, or they grow up knowing they'll never quite live up to Mommy's standards.
If you've been following the math, you'll know that there's still another 40% of what's wrong with child pageants to be accounted for. And here's my view: there is a group of children out there who are spending a large amount of their free time being primped and prodded into proving their worth through looks alone. Yes, there is the rare kid who looks into the camera and says that she loves pageants, but I noticed that those were the kids who brought home the big crowns. Of course they love pageants: they've been trained practically since birth to crave the recognition that comes from being "Super Supreme Little Miss" or whatever. And most of the time they've gotten it. So instead of wanting to show Mommy the picture they drew to get an "atta-girl", they know they need to bring out the big guns and show up with a crown so big they can wear it as a dress. At the age of 3 or 5 or 7, these kids know that Mommy doesn't want to see them reading a book, she wants to see them practicing their air kisses and begging for lipstick.
And here I sat, mother of a little girl, joining in and judging other little girls. Aidan froze up on stage; she's out of the running. Corrie's hat fell off when she did her cartwheel, the judges will not like THAT. Heaven's mom should have sprung for the spray-tan, she looks like a ghost! And just as I reached the precipice, as I started to consider whether there might be a local pageant that A could try, my daughter came over and showed me a picture she drew. Just like that, the spell was broken. Because as I oohed and aahed over A's colorful scribble, she turned a beaming smile on me and I realized that I never wanted her to think that she needed to be beautiful to win my approval. My husband and I have raised a daughter who is secure and happy and knows that she is loved exactly as she is. That's all the validation I need.
No comments:
Post a Comment