From fairy tales to magazines — the beauty lessons we teach our children
What’s your favourite fairy tale? It was a dark, wintry night. I tucked my then 4 year old daughter into bed and asked her which story she wished me to read. “Snow White!” She replied with delight, her eyes gleaming with expectation, her mind wandering to the cloudless, make-believe world of castles, princesses, glitz and adventure. Snow White was her favourite, along with the other classic fairy tales like Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Rapunzel and Sleeping Beauty. In their worlds, beauty, goodness and grace triumphed over ugliness, evil and greed. Happily ever after was guaranteed.
These were the stories introduced to many of us as early readers. They dominated our bookshelves and television screens. These stories have survived generations, probably with humble origins and inspirations drawn from folklore, appearing in modern print from writers such as the Grimm brothers, translated in various languages and eventually finding places in the multi-billion theatres and cinema screens afforded by Disney, Warner Bros., MGM and others. When it comes to bedtime or movie night, these continue to be the obvious choices, especially for parents of little girls. Frozen, The Little Mermaid, Tinkerbell — these are all beautifully imaginative tales that fill children with hope and wonder. They demonstrate that beauty will always outshine and overcome the witches, monsters and darkness lurking in the shadows.
However, as I read Snow White that night, it was as though someone held a tightly-knotted rope around my tongue and the pit of my stomach at the same time. I lost my flow and had an uneasiness as though I had driven over something obscure in the dark. These stories always describe their female protagonists as pretty, beautiful, “fair maidens”, sometimes literally as “the most beautiful girl in the world,” followed by a description and illustration of features that were very different to my daughter’s. Even the wicked stepmother queen was described as very beautiful, in spite of her villainous character. Was I inadvertently giving my daughter a beauty lesson that was not representative of who she saw in the mirror? Was I imposing an early impression of beauty on this young mind?
I paused for a while, hesitant to continue, thinking of how to improvise. Before I could even attempt to change the story, my daughter was sound asleep, opting for dreamland. Maybe it was the dull tone of my soft, culturally-diluted Bajan accent or the rigorous day she had at nursery. I closed the book and took the time to think and explore. I could no longer exclusively read these stories to my daughter and not take responsibility for her perception of beauty. After all, she was already growing up in a world where the beauty images and products promoted by mainstream media promote and target faces, eyes, skin and hair that do not resemble hers. When black faces appear on the covers of beauty magazines, the titles or headings are often further predicated, such as “black beauty”, suggesting a niche, alternative “form of beauty” other than what is mainstream and normal. I’m not suggesting some form of racist, “white supremacist” agenda, I’m simply identifying the outcomes of a skewed beauty market resulting from disproportions in population and economy. It is a market composed of those who can afford to buy and those who can afford to procure and sell.
The question I asked myself was, “could this ethnocentric concept of beauty start from childhood stories?” I am increasingly convinced that this is the case. Could it be that we set the stone rolling downhill from those years of night-time reading, reinforcing stereotypes of beauty that cause girls and boys of all races to either positively or negatively assume their entitlement to admiration? Beautiful hair, eyes and skin — without thinking, does your face come to mind?
Thinking back to my childhood (the great 1980s), the only books featuring black characters in my possession were the series of Nelson’s New West Indian Readers. They were a collection of original and adapted stories set in a West Indian context. They were fun and made it easy to identify with the characters and scenes. However, I don’t recall stories that emphasised and celebrated the beauty of characters who looked like the majority of West Indian children. I am very open to being wrong about this and invite examples to the contrary, as I am only speaking from my personal perception and experience.
In 2009 Disney released their 49th animated feature film, 72 years after their very first animated release. It was an adaptation of the Princess and the Frog tale, featuring a black princess called Tiana. This was meant to be the first big-screen animation from Disney where the main character, a princess, was undeniably black. She had dark skin, curly, black hair, a very black-sounding African-American name (“Tee-Yaw-Nah”), lived in New Orleans, had that sassy determination many would associate with black women and girls, and the film was full of jazzy, gospel-like tunes and motifs. Above all else, she was beautiful, a princess and leading the cause of beauty and goodness. The film was met with mixed reactions from black viewers, in particular female viewers. Some reminded that she wasn’t really a princess, given her poor beginnings and endeavour to own a cafe, while others pointed out that she spent most of the movie as a green, pond-dwelling frog, hopping around with her ungainly frog prince. Is this just people being overly sensitive or is there a point regarding our default to stereotypes of beauty when it comes to race and class?
After that wintry night of reconsidering what I read to my daughter, I set out to identify authors and books with a similar conviction. Mary Hoffman’s picture book series called “Amazing Grace”, with wonderful, life-like illustrations by Caroline Binch, was one of the first books recommended by relatives and friends. Grace is a young black girl who lives with her mother and grandmother. They live a simple, working-class life and Grace overcomes various challenges typical of her circumstance.
While I enjoy the Amazing Grace stories, as does my daughter, and suggest them to other relatives and friends, the stories never emphasise beauty. They focus on overcoming, which seems to be the ongoing saga of the black race. Where are the stories of royalty, kings, queens, princes and, of course, princesses?
Joyce Hansen’s book entitled “African Princess”, with vivid, portrait illustrations from Laurie McGaw, shares a history of 6 female, African leaders from as far back as 1473 BC. These women exhibited wisdom, power and beauty, which deviates from the contemporary princess stories of glitz, delicateness (princess and the pea) and the need to be “saved” by a strong, dashing prince. The illustrations are beautiful without compromise. Dark skin, tight, curly, woolly hair; colourful, tribal clothing; intricate, braided hairstyles/hair-art; these are all attributes of beauty to be celebrated. Originality and pride in their place and people are evident in their stories.
Travelling back to the Caribbean, my home-soil, Ricardo Keens Douglas published “The Nutmeg Princess” in 1992, with the most colourful illustrations by Annouchka Galouchko.
This is not an adaptation of a well-known story but is a completely original tale set in the “spice-isle of the Caribbean”, Grenada. This story is inspired by the author’s homeland and borrows imagery and colour from the island’s natural beauty. With its originality, the lessons of goodness, unselfishness, loyalty and kindness are clearly presented. The Nutmeg Princess is alluring and mysterious.
Jamila Gavin’s collection of short stories provides original tales of goodness and beauty for any reader. The cover page is stunning. It conveys beauty against a backdrop of darkness, mystery and intrigue. The stories all show young heroes rising above challenges imposed by darkness and evil.
My favourite story is the title story of the collection called “Blackberry Blue”. It is a form of rags-to-riches story, where a poor, young girl finds her prince, much like many classic princess fairy tales, but it is also a story of caring, generosity and triumph over evil. The prince’s stepmother turns out to be a witch, while her son is also a young, evil sorcerer. However, the highlight of the story for me is the way Jamila Gavin describes our main character, Blackberry Blue, firstly as a baby:
“Her skin was as black as midnight, her lips like crushed damsons, and her tightly curled hair shone like threads of black gold.”
This was the first book where I read such an image-rich articulation of beauty bestowed on a black character in a children’s book. Here, beauty is not predicated or consolatory, it is pure and plaintive. This inspired and encouraged me tremendously, giving me the impression that I was not alone in the concern about what seeds of beauty we plant in our children’s minds. As Blackberry Blue grew, the author emphasises her evident, resolute beauty:
“The years went by, and Blackberry Blue grew into the most beautiful girl anyone had ever seen. ….
Blackberry Blue grew up the happiest of children; so loved and nurtured , becoming more lovely with every day that passed.”
This was exactly the trend of writing for which I was searching. Beauty stories for black kids that weren’t compromised with condescension or consolation. Beauty is used to emphatically describe their appearance and nature, allowing the story to flow without being distracted by the fact that the characters are black.
Beauty does not have a race, colour or ethnicity. It is not exclusive to a specific physique, hair-type or style. Every child needs to be told they are beautiful and see themselves in the beauty stories they read. Beauty cannot be standardised or written into rule books.
Beauty is bold, some may say fierce, and cannot be silenced or overshadowed. What beauty lessons are you reading tonight?
