The Innocence of Childhood

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess. I know, it's cliché, since most little girls at some point in their lives have probably wanted to be a princess too. The princesses depicted in the Disney movies that most of us grew up with were beautiful. They had beautiful hair, perfect skin, big bright eyes and of course they wore the most magical and beautiful flowing gowns. I’m sure many of us twirled around in pretend princess dresses and loved it, but none of these were the real reasons I wanted to be a princess.

And let’s not forget about the handsome princes in these stories. These brave princes who would save the day by rescuing a beautiful princess from her horrible life in rags, save a damsel from a tall tower or revive a long sleeping princess with a gentle kiss. The prince was the hero and as appealing as all that might sound, the prospect of a handsome prince riding in on his white horse to save me wasn’t a reason I wanted to be a princess either. In truth, given how I was a child, I probably would have ditched the prince and just kept the horse.

As strange as it might sound to some, the reason I dreamed of being a princess was because of the relationship that these beautiful and kind characters had with nature and animals.

Using Cinderella as the first example. Despite her grim circumstances, Cinderella still took the time and gave what little she had to make sure the mice and all the other small creatures around her were taken care of. In return, and because these loyal little creatures didn’t want Cinderella to be sad, they got together to make her a beautiful gown so she could still attend the prince’s ball despite what her evil stepmother and stepsisters wanted. Of course, that dress was later torn to pieces, but that’s not the point. When Cinderella sings the song, A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes, the blue birds join in, and the sleepy mice stumble out of their tiny beds and out of their tiny little mouse holes to listen attentively and dreamily to the enchanted Cinderella.

Another example and one of my favorite scenes from Snow White was when she was stranded in the forest. Distraught by her circumstances, Snow White lays on the forest ground sobbing. While she is crying, the little forest animals curiously gather around her. But once she notices the animals, she startles them, and they scurry away. She apologizes and asks the little blue birds what they do when they are upset, so they start whistling. Snow White joins along and as soon as she starts singing, the squirrels, baby deer, racoons, etc. all come back out to listen. The tiny creatures of the forest gather around her once again. Such a magical moment for a little girl to witness on the screen.

The same scenario with Sleeping beauty. Because of an evil curse set upon her, Aurora lives a sheltered life and doesn’t have any friends. So, she happily wanders around the forest singing to herself. Upon hearing her singing, the blue birds start tweeting along and all the other furry creatures of the forest come out to play. As I write this though, I am really starting to wonder if this isn’t the same group of blue birds employed by Disney to follow sad and lonely princesses around. Either way, these fairytale characters were the epitome of good and evil. You get the point though; I wanted this life. I wanted to be a good and kind princess. I wanted to sing angelic songs and play with forest creatures. Who wouldn’t want this magical life?

So, the confession. I remember I was probably around eight or nine years old. As a little girl I would often spend hours playing in the woods behind my house. Those were different times of course. I’m sure most of you have seen the TikTok videos of people saying, “when I was a kid, we didn’t come home until the streetlights came on and our parents never knew where we were.” That was my childhood. It really was in some ways amazing, but looking back on this now, it was also kind of frightening. So anyway, I would play in the woods in my back yard. Sometimes I would play with the other kids in the neighborhood, which were mostly boys; and sometimes I would play with the only other little girl my age. More times than not though, I was alone, and I didn’t mind. I liked my own company. When I was alone, I would sometimes read, and when I wasn’t reading, I would pretend I was a princess. I loved to sing (and still do), and I swear, one day I almost got that squirrel to come down from that tree to visit with me.

I remember that little squirrel slowly walking down the tree. He was curiously staring at me the whole time. His little tail perked up and fluffy. It was happening and I was so excited. I was going to be like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or Snow White and eventually all the forest creatures would come out and we would be best friends. I stayed calm though. I softly sang my song, and I tried desperately not to break eye contact with that little squirrel.

And then it happened…

My older brother and two of his friends had been watching me and started making fun of me. I was devastated. One of the boys, Chris, was calling me stupid and laughing hysterically. The worst part was I had a crush on this boy. Perhaps that was what infuriated me even more. All I know is I was so angry that I stomped over to him, pushed him down on the ground and punched him in the face. I know, not very princess like of me.

The thing is, I wasn’t even mad that they were laughing and making fun of me. Well, maybe I was a little. I was mostly mad because they spooked that damn squirrel. Who knows, maybe their teasing saved my life, and that squirrel didn’t want to be friends, but instead was getting ready to attack. Maybe the missing ingredient all along was those happy little blue birds. I’ll never know.

Either way, I think this is when I realized Disney movies are bullshit and boys suck!

As a side note I do want to say I do not condone violence. Me sharing my story was actually inspired in part by the story posted on here a couple of days ago by Paul Stewart, “I Kicked a Girl and Didn’t Like it.” Reading his heartfelt story made me think about the boys I grew up with and how me being tough was like a survival mechanism. I grew up as a tomboy in a dress. All my cousins were boys and most of the kids in my neighborhood were boys. I think it’s different for girls though, according to societal standards, for a girl to hit a boy, than it is for a boy to hit a girl. Neither are ok, but sometimes it does happen. Kids are kids and right or wrong they are prone to sometimes just react in the moment.