Sugar & Spice: What Will My Little Girl Be Made Of?
by Dana Kinsey • Middletown, PA

What is the “Spice Channel”, Mom? queried my small, blonde pony-tailed ten-year-old last week.

"The what?"

"Sarah's mother and father were fighting about the Spice Channel."

"Oh. It's some Hispanic-cooking network, I guess. Don't worry about it. We don't get that channel anyway."

It was pathetic. This was how I, a language teacher who eats words for breakfast, answered my ten-year-old daughter's legitimate question. I'm ashamed of myself, yet I won't retract my answer.
Don't judge me yet. I have good reasons.

REASON 1: She deserves to not have to worry about the Spice Channel at age 10. I grew up secretly envying Jeannie because she wore a midriff top in her bottle, and wondering if Marsha Brady could safely bend over without ridicule in her micro-miniskirts. Innocence is bliss. Why should she have to know about pornography because Sarah's father feels it's worth yelling about in front of his child's friend?

REASON 2: I'm not quite ready to have the "big talk" with her yet. The "talk" should probably precede an explanation of "Spice is Right."

REASON 3: I have not yet decided what my approach is to the whole "sex-centered" universe in which I have to raise my daughter. Research funded by the U.S. Department of Education states: "Parents' actions play a central role in girls' sex role socialization and can shape a girl's sense of herself."

I'm frightened and confused and think back to my role model. I adore my mother, but she was not cool. Not ever. You could look up "prude" in the dictionary and there was her headshot sneering back at you. As a teenager in the early ‘80s, I wanted to listen to the Stones or Fleetwood Mac or Elvis Costello, but the only musical selection in my home was a Lynn Anderson country album that my father won in a water balloon contest at an office picnic.

I, on the other hand, desire some degree of worldliness. I listen to new music, pay attention to current cinema, dress in somewhat trendy fashions (while managing to always look respectable) and of course, I maintain the reputation of knowing "what's up" with my daughter's peers. She's proud of me, and I love that. Sacrificing my status and appearing too "straight" makes me a little nervous, yet I won't have my daughter grow up as a slave to modern society's idea of a woman.

My feminism and coolness have begun to butt heads in a big way. My daughter constantly looks for my "stamp of approval" and I want (more than anything) to be a good mother. The Harvard Project on Women's Psychology and Girls' Development supports the finding that many girls seem to think well of themselves in the primary grades but suffer a severe decline in self-confidence and acceptance of body image by the age of 12. Preventing this decline motivates many of my parenting decisions.

My first true policy-making incident centered around a Britney Spears calendar which my brother-in-law purchased for my daughter as a Christmas gift. I saw Britney's black-laced, short-short wearing sassy image smiling up from the gift bag and I knew there would be trouble. My mother was there, and her reaction was predictable.

"She's nothing but filth. Didn't you see that outfit she wore on the American Music Awards? She might as well have been nude. She is proof that the devil is working among us."

Unlike my mother, I felt the ignore her and she'll go away technique would have better results and would sufficiently mask my conservative tendencies on this matter, but Mom challenged me to take a stand.

"You won't let her hang that trash in her room. Will you, Dana?"

She added my name for emphasis and all eyes spun to my face as I sputtered an inaudible answer and looked to my husband for backup, but he was too busy laughing hysterically.

I just couldn't bring myself to be the "cleavage police." What would that have accomplished anyway? The calendar would have been more intriguing and I would have taken one dreaded giant step closer to becoming my mother. Enough said. Jill smiled and darted off to hang her calendar in her tie-dye room with the rainbow sheets. Britney nestled herself right in beside the Berenstain Bears collection and her First Holy Communion figurine.

By March, Britney plunged face first into the white wicker trashcan in her room and Mia Hamm's stunning, athletic physique had replaced her. It was a small victory, and it was Jill's. When I asked her why, she told me that Britney was "cheesy" and she didn't want to be like her. Lot's of kids at school said she had a "dirty mouth" and too many plastic surgeries. Chalk one up for the subtle approach.

My desire is for my daughter to see my example, understand what is important to me and form values based on my own. We talk all the time and I am usually very honest with her. Last week on Court TV, she was watching a case that involved two lesbian women, one of whom was unfortunately the victim of a brutal dog attack. Her significant other kept referring to her as "my partner" and crying bitterly about her fate. My daughter turned to us and asked if they were "dance partners."

I told her the truth. A barrage of questions followed, but I came out unscathed and felt better afterwards. An honest explanation minus any judgmental statements or emotionally loaded phrases seemed to be the way to go. It feels better doing it this way. I'm not comfortable ignoring sexuality, because my child is smart and it's swarming all around her.

In an Education Journal article, Elizabeth Debold advises that: "Girls need the support of adults to resist pressures to conform to stereotypes that can limit their expectations and achievement… They receive conflicting messages about their worth and place in our culture from schools, television and the movies. Counter these messages by engaging in critical discussions of these ideas."

My husband and I speak often about my daughter's physical fitness, her competitiveness on the soccer field and the basketball court. We compliment her on her kindness, empathetic nature and sense of humor. I tell her that she has beautiful blue eyes and her own sense of style. My daughter works hard in school and maintains high grades. We dwell on achievements, not looks.

But there may come a day very soon when she wants a leopard thong, and that day will be tragic for me. I saw them dangling from the racks in Limited Too. They exist in size 10/12. My feminist, thirty-something opinion is that this is unforgivable. Since when did Victoria share her secret with those under 21? Would we expect a third grader to take an engineering class at a university or cook a Cornish game hen from scratch? Why is there this ridiculous rush for adulthood?

Hopefully, my child should be able to enjoy her childhood; her life should not be a pressure cooker with too many adult concerns. I have had to work too hard to gain equality in the work place and in my home. My daughter will start out minus the many misconceptions that my mother and I battled. All of the progress that Susan B., Sojourner Truth and so many other women dedicated their lives to secure is in jeopardy and I will "champion the cause." My daughter will emerge confident and capable. Her strength will be one gift she packs in her bags when she leaves my home.

Unlike my mother, I won't make sexuality a "dirty word," but I will keep it a safe distance from my daughter until she can handle it. We will watch shows like Friends together if she wants to watch them, but she will understand that the characters are not good role models. The teachable moments may be in the mistakes that they make and the foolish decisions that constantly mess up their lives and the lives of their unlucky children. I will happily impose my values on Hollywood, but I won't use words like "filth" or "devil." (Sorry, Mom!)

My hope is that my little girl has a chance to see herself as a contributor to the planet, an intelligent force in a sometimes unintelligent world that seems to be spinning out of control in terms of moral issues. I want her definition of success to someday include words like power, poise and principles. She shouldn't have to stress about trying too hard to be "sexy." If I get my way, that will happen all by itself.

Dana Kinsey has a BA in English and an MA in Theater from Villanova University. She is a freelance writer, language arts teacher, and theater director. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, her daughter, and her son. Email her at: TchrKins@aol.co