Daddy Fob vs. S-Boogie's Self Image

This picture doesn't have much to do with what I'm going to talk about; I just like it. S-Boog got into the living room closet today and accesorized herself.

Today I was reading in my students' textbook, in the section on image analysis, about cultural readings of advertisements. The text uses the example of a couple studies that have been done on the portrayal of women in advertising, ranging from a 1924 Hoover ad that encourages husbands to buy their wives a vacuum for Christmas to a more recent AT&T Corporate Calling Card ad that shows a businesswomen doing Important Things on the phone. The textbook suggests that I bring ads with women in them to class so that I can have my male students pose like the women are posing and see if they look ridiculous. I'll pass, but it is a good point--despite all the advances women have made over the last century, they still are often valued more for their sexual appeal than for any other quality.

This makes me worry about S-Boogie. I tell her rather frequently that she looks pretty, to the point where now after I put her hair in pigtails she'll run to Foxy J and say, "I look pretty." I do this because: it is a matter of fact that S-Boogie is a beautiful toddler; I see her frequently; I therefore notice frequently that she is a beautiful toddler; when I notice my first impulse is to tell her. On the one hand, I think this might be a good thing because I seem to have read somewhere once that girls' perception of themselves is highly influenced by their fathers, and I would like S-Boogie to grow up knowing that she is a beautiful person, even if twenty years from now she's overweight or plagued by horrible acne or hunchbacked. On the other hand, I fear this is a bad thing because I read somewhere once that girls' perception of themselves is highly influenced by their fathers, and I don't want S-Boogie to grow up believing that her worth is dependent upon her appearance, especially when twenty years from now she is overweight or plagued by horrible acne or hunchbacked.

My hope is that I'll balance out the negative impact of telling her how pretty she is by telling her with equal frequency how smart she is. I do this because: it is a matter of fact that S-Boogie is one of the most intelligent two-and-a-half-year-olds ever; I see her frequently; I therefore notice frequently that she is an intelligent toddler; when I notice my first impulse is to tell her. I think this is a good thing. I'm sure I'll regret it, though, ten years from now when my emphasis on her intelligence produces enough anxiety to cause her to not come home for three days when she gets a B on her report card.

Sigh. I'm not sure I like having the future of a human being to mold like putty in my hands.