My White Daughter Wants to Be a Black Princess for Halloween

When my 5 year old, white daughter picked out a Tiana costume at our local consignment store, I had a strong urge to jump up and down… right on little girl! I knew I raised you right!

We held the dress up to her frame, perfect fit. We picked out a rhinestone tiara, just like Tiana’s and grabbed some white gloves. Then my daughter asked, “What should I do with my hair mommy? Tiana’s hair is brown. My hair is not.” My daughter has dishwater blonde hair. We have several princess wigs at home; Ariel, Merida but no Tiana.

“We could look up on the computer to see if there is a Tiana wig. Or we could use hair spray paint.”

“Noooo… wigs itch me. Maybe I just keep my own hair, but you put it up like Tiana’s?”

At this point I was praying she didn’t ask me to paint her face to match Tiana’s because then I’d have to explain why it’s not okay to paint your face black – which I’m totally comfortable doing it – I just wasn’t feelin’ that convo in the middle of a kiddie consignment store with like a bazillion eyes on me. But it would have gone something like this: painting your skin black isn’t cool. Ever. Don’t do it. Don’t talk about doin’ it. Shit ain’t cool little girl. Thankfully, she didn’t ask.

We grabbed our bags, and went home. My daughter burst through the front door and bragged to her dad. “Look daddy! Mommy bought me the Tiana costume! And she got me these fancy gloves!”

She was beaming. I was beaming. My husband was beaming. We exchanged a knowing glance that said, Yeah, boooooyyyyyeeeeee, we got this whole parenting thing on lock! There might’ve been an air fist pump. Or, I could’ve totally imagined that part.

Social justice and discrimination in all forms – race, gender, religious, etc. – are all issues I care deeply about. Being fair, open-minded and educated about these issues is paramount to me and my husband. It’s even more pinnacle for me to teach my kids about these issues and any possible implicit biases which may exist. I want to shape my daughters into diverse, tolerant and empathetic human beings.

But, why was I soooooo happy that my white daughter wanted to be a black princess for Halloween? I couldn’t figure out why. I thought maybe I like that she’s colorblind? But that couldn’t be it. We don’t teach our kids to be colorblind. We’re more of a notice-people’s-differences-and-celebrate-it kinda family.

So I called my black girlfriends. Please don’t assume that I’m a typical white woman treating my black girlfriends like opinion jukeboxes on racial issues, you know, put a coin in them and expect them to spit out opinions on a dime. I called my brown girlfriends and my white girlfriends too. I asked my tribe. My whole crew.

“Do you think it’s weird that I’m happy she picked out a Tiana costume? Like, would your mom have been happy if you picked out a white princess costume when you were a little girl?… Were you annoyed that there were, and still are, less black baby dolls on the market, and fewer black Barbie dolls?… Seriously, South Pacific and Middle Eastern girls and women are very under-represented. Where are the Barbies in sari’s at Toys R Us?… Did you have black Barbies or baby dolls when you were a kid? Or did you only stick to white dolls because they looked like you?”

The responses I received varied widely given each woman’s ethnic background and childhood geographical location. But one response stuck. When I asked my friend why I was so happy about my white girl pickin’ out the black girl princess costume – she said, “Is it possible you’re just happy she picked out something that is different? That her choice goes against the conventional choice for a little white girl?”

And it was like BOOM.

She’s right. I wasn’t happy that my daughter was picking out a costume that was created to look like Disney’s sole black princess. The color of the princess’s skin didn’t matter. I was happy my daughter didn’t go for the typical choice. I would’ve been thrilled if my daughter picked out a Superman costume or a Ninja Turtle getup. I’d be elated if my daughter wanted to be Hillary Clinton or Serena Williams for Halloween. Anything but the (gag) beloved Cinderella costume. Or slutty school girl (with plaid skirt – seriously I saw a costume like that for kids), or hooker-looking Police Woman. I don’t get down with those skanky kiddie Halloween costumes – shit is gross.

Getting into a costume is about getting into character. I don’t know if my daughter likes how Tiana looks, or likes who she is in the movie. Or maybe my daughter wants Prince Naveen to be her boyfriend? Wait, maybe I want Prince Naveen to be my boyfriend? (It’s a toss up between him and Prince Eric for me.)

Ahem, anyway… I don’t know why my daughter wants to be Tiana, or why she thinks it’s okay to be Tiana. I’m just happy she thinks it’s okay to be Tiana, period. Because it totally is.

And now, I must ponder my own Halloween costume. I want to be Beyonce’. I think I’ll call my black girlfriends about that. And my brown and white girlfriends. And, for real, I think I’ll call my personal trainer if I’m gonna pull this one off. Wait, I don’t have one.

Sarah Hosseini writes profanity laced musings about motherhood on her blog, Missguided Mama. She is an introverted urbanite, temporarily hiding out in the suburbs, wondering, with a glass of wine in hand, where is everybody? (But secretly hoping no one comes out of their houses to talk to her.) She lives with her two girls and husband in Atlanta-ish. You can follow her mostly rated ‘R’ mommy rhetoric on Twitter or Facebook.