I was thinking about Fairy tales today. You know, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, and all of those Disney movies you watched as a child. Every single one of them ends with a Prince or some form of ‘knight in shining armour’ turning up out of nowhere and coming to the woman’s rescue to whisk her off to a life of never-ending bliss.
As little girls we would watch these movies in awe and listen to our parents read these tales at bedtime, delighting in the promise that this was simply what would happen to us one day.
We grow up, go to school, go to university, and possibly get a job and then poof!!! The perfect guy just pops up out of thin air, you kiss him, and live happily ever after. That’s it!
Is that the impression the tales were giving us? Were they intended to give us that impression? Why did our parents read these stories to us?
Should they really have read us another version of Sleeping Beauty? How about one where she eventually woke up, not because she received a kiss from her dream man, but because she simply had to. She had to get up and face reality, so she brushed the dust off her, jumped up, got a job, an apartment and a single healthcare plan.
I think it’s only now that we’ve woken up and realised that no man is really going to turn up out of the blue, save our lives and make all our dreams come true.
Of course when we grow up, we soon realize that we need to get our own shit together. Which is great, don’t get me wrong. We do, as women, get our shit together and take care of ourselves, and we do it very well (some would say we do it better than men).
But it’s a little sad isn’t it? That there is not necessarily a special someone out there for every single one of us and that there is more to finding our prince than simply falling to the floor and having him catch us.
Is it scary that we may have to face the world all alone?
Or is it refreshingly independent?