Pretty Little Girls

A friend posted this article on Facebook, and since then, an issue that has only been a pebble in my shoe has been moved to the forefront of my mind as I go through my day-to-day activities with Ellie. We can't ever go anywhere without random strangers commenting on how pretty she is, that they love her curls, that she looks so cute... And I know they are well-intentioned compliments. I politely say "thank you" and carry on; Ellie says nothing. Yet I cannot help but be annoyed, and I didn't have a concrete reason for it (aside from disliking the unwanted attention), until I read this article. Then, I suppose, it all came into focus for me. Ellie is smart (and not deaf). She knows there is attention being drawn to her hair. She asks me to comb out the curls, gets excited when she feels it touching her shoulders because that means it's getting longer, and says she wants long hair "like mommy's." So basically, I have a self-conscious three-year-old who really shouldn't be concerned about any aspect of her appearance... All because strangers feel compelled to draw attention to something about her over which she has no control or choice. So how do I help her have a positive self-image and at the same time teach her that she is much more than what the world sees on the outside?
Today gave me hope. This morning, as we were leaving the YMCA (a place full of old people who can't get enough of Ellie's curls), we happened to be walking out in a crowd of old ladies, so of course the comments about Ellie's appearance were flying. A lady said to her "look at you, you're so pretty!" I gave my customary "thank you" as a response, but then, as an afterthought, I quietly said "she's smart too..." And then I was caught off-guard by another woman who asked me "can I say something to your daughter?" Wary that she'd make a remark about those curls again, I just looked at her expectantly, without saying yes or no. She turned to Ellie and asked "did you go swimming today?" Ellie nodded her head eagerly (without speaking because her mouth was full of her post-swim snack). A brief conversation about swimming followed between the lady, Ellie, and me. Then I wished her a good day as we walked out and went our separate ways, hoping I had changed my demeanor enough to not seem like an angry she-bear. I don't know what prompted her to talk with Ellie (maybe she heard my smart comment; maybe she read the article too), but everything she did was right. She asked me if she could talk to my child. She spoke about important things. She didn't have to do any of that, but she did, and it made a difference. I appreciate her thoughtfulness. It does matter.