Every October, there’s a spate of articles breaking down the feminist and political ramifications of Disney Princess Halloween costumes: We shouldn’t let our daughters dress as Elsa. We should let our daughters dress as Elsa. We should encourage our sons to also dress as Elsa. Everything’s fair game as long as we don’t culturally appropriate Moana.
And the overall takeaway for real moms is…complicated. On the one hand, I pride myself on creative, homemade costumes that speak to imagination and innocence rather than the so-called Princess Industrial Complex. And I certainly don’t want to sexualize my 3-year-old or solidify gender stereotypes or offend anybody of Pacific Island descent. On the other hand, my daughter really, really wants to be Elsa, dammit.
But this year, I’m struck by another thought, one that gets at the inherently messed up nature of Halloween costume shaming. To all you parents who are so turned off by Disney princesses: Why are we OK with unicorns and mermaids?!
A little back story: At some point in 2016, the unicorn galloped its way from the fringes of nerdy, fantasy novel ephemera into the cultural mainstream. We were a nation at a crossroads, and the only joy we could muster derived from a mythical, rainbow-colored horse-thing who now adorned cakes, pool floats and Frappuccinos. Next came the mermaids, which to be fair, have been a weird, sexy fetish since well before the age of Instagram. (See: J.M. Barrie, the Coney Island Mermaid Parade, Splash.) The difference now, was that we thought we could actually be them. We booked mermaid photoshoots. We signed up for mermaid swim classes. We unironically followed the influencer whose Instagram bio read "Mermaid living on land."