I’m washing dishes while my third-grade daughter and her friend blast a One Direction song: “Oooh oh, you don’t know you’re beautiful,” whines the mop-haired adolescent singer.
“Uh, yeah I do!” I shout, and shake my butt at the sink. The girls scream and scramble from the room.
The song attempts to come off affirmingly: the girl lacks confidence and stares at the ground, but she’s actually gorgeous, so much so that—get this—she doesn’t even need make up!
Who are these boys, who appear on pink pencil cases at the mall, to decide whether a girl deserves to be beautiful? I’d like to discount the whole notion as superficial and sexist. [Read more...]