Some of you
know I’m an actress by trade and I am currently playing a princess at a local theatre for young audiences. This week we had daytime performances for local schools and
afterwards we gave the kids the opportunity to ask a few questions. One that
took me by surprise was, “Why is the Princess so pretty?” This was not a
judgment, but rather a compliment turned into a question. It really caught me
off guard, so I responded with some deflecting comment about the wonders that
makeup can do for a person. As the cast left the stage, I walked by two children: a sweet looking girl and a boy with a faux-hawk. The girl caught my
attention and said emphatically, truly wanting me to grasp it, “You really are
pretty.” The boy tagged on, “Yeah, even I think so!” Backstage I found myself
making comments about how much I loved those children, and how they made my day
and how kids say the darndest things. While I knew the children had good
intentions, I was troubled somehow. But, I decided to dismiss it, take
the compliment and let myself feel good about it.
One of the
things I love about this particular theatre is that we have a meet
and greet after every show where the kids can come and get pictures and
autographs. Today, after the first show, one little girl came up to me and
asked, “Is it easy for you to play a princess since you’re naturally pretty and
your hair is the perfect length?” Instead of answering the question, I thanked
her profusely and told her I was glad she thought I made a good princess. Oof.
There was that troubling feeling again.
Again, I
went backstage and retold the tale of the cute child and allowed myself to bask
in the approval of my young audience. It feels good to be accepted. It feels
good to be told you’re attractive. So, why was I feeling haunted by these
little interactions based on appearance?
The answer
came to me while I was “waiting in the wings” at the beginning of the second
show. I have about 10 minutes of downtime at the beginning of this production. I
use it to fix my hair, make sure all the parts of my costume are in the right
places, etc. As I gazed in the mirror I realized what I wish I had said to that
little girl who assumed that it was easy for me to princess because I was
pretty: Being a princess isn’t about what you look like; It’s about how you
treat other people. That troubling little pang of guilt I was feeling was not
about accepting compliments or believing I was pretty enough, but that I was
somehow perpetuating society's definition of what a princess should look
like. (I take some solace in the fact that I am much curvier than your average
princess, a fact that was seemingly unnoticed by my audience members.) I did
not want them to think you had to be pretty to be a princess. I wanted to be a
princess that all children could look up to and want to be like, not
necessarily look like.
When I
think of princesses, both real and fictional, I think of how good and kind they
are. From the humanitarian efforts of Princess Diana to Princess Jasmine’s
(almost tragic) generosity to a hungry child…I was learning from their actions.
I was learning what it meant to be good. And that goodness is what made the princesses
of my childhood so beautiful. Thinking back to the question of that dear little
patron: “Is it easy to play a princess since you’re naturally pretty?” No. No, it’s not, little girl. Because what makes me beautiful isn’t the length of my
hair, the color of my skin, or any other physical attribute! It’s how I choose
to treat others. And treating others well is a difficult dance, that I fail at,
often, but strive to do well.
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| Obligatory Doctor Who quote that fits so perfectly here, it's stupid! |
We have
four more performances before I hang up my princess crown. Next weekend, I will
have the privilege to look into the faces of hundreds of children and hear what
they think about this show and about my Princess. While I will be humbled,
flattered and genuinely pleased to hear that I am beautiful, if they choose to
share that with me, I hope it will not only be a surface kind of beauty they
see, but something much deeper and lasting.
