'The Paper Bag Princess' a Modern (?) Take on the Classic Fairy Tale

I am not a hardcore feminist. Frankly, I'm not a hardcore anything! I know, it's my fault that I'm not a hardcore anything, and as for the blatant disregard of feminism's constructs: that's my fault. I haven't delved into its politics or agenda. For that, I know I must apologize because there are so many things of which I should be 'hardcore' and am not. I am really, really sorry.

So then, why, suddenly, am I approaching the topic of feminism?  Because I think that every modern woman (and just being born in the past two centuries is license enough to be considered 'modern') is a feminist whether or not she would label herself as such. I am of the latter group, only to realize that the former has been beckoning to me for some time now.

Last night I was at work, and I sat down to take a little break since there were no customers around, when I spotted this book I'd never before seen: The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch; illustrated by Michael Martchenko.

What makes her a paper bag princess?, I thought. I had to read it with that question on my mind! Allow me to read it to you, or, at the very least, explain it to you. (What you're about to read next is a simplistic retelling of an already beautifully simple story.)

We meet Elizabeth and Ronald.

I don't even have to hear Ronald speak before I know that I already won't like him. He looks like a snooty little thing, and poor Elizabeth just oogling over this snooty little man. But who am I to dash a little girl's dream of marriage? Anyway, Elizabeth is convinced she is going to marry Ronald, and Ronald's all: "Cool." (He probably says so with a snooty accent, I mean, look at that racket he's holding! All snooty people hold rackets.)

But then a dragon comes by, eats the castle, and burns everything up, including all her clothes and kidnaps poor, snooty Ronald! Snooty as he is, no one should ever be kidnapped by a dragon. That is a fate I would not wish upon my worst enemies...had I any.

Elizabeth, however, finds the courage to find that mean old dragon and save her Ronald! Hey, "Hell hath no fury like a woman [denied]', right?! But she can't go streaking, and it wouldn't be very wise to fight a dragon nude, but the only thing she can find that isn't burnt is a paper bag. Ah, well! What are clothes for if only to cover up the body and protect it, ah?

The dragon is easy enough to follow for he leaves a trail of burnt forests, and horses' bones. What luck!

Elizabeth's first attempt to enter the dragon's lair is denied, but on her second try she compliments the dragon. She gets him to show off.

He burns down fifty forests, then one hundred, then, on the third try, is all out of fire! Then Elizabeth asks him to fly around the world as quickly as he can, which is ten seconds on the first try, and twenty on the second try. The dragon comes back so tired that he faints and sleeps.

Elizabeth has saved the day! Yeah! She can get her Ronald back! Whoo!

But Ronald...

' [Ronald] looked at [Princess Elizabeth] and said, "Elizabeth, you are a mess! You smell like ashes your hair is all tangled and you are wearing a dirty old paper bag. Come back when you are dressed like a real princess." '

Now, I almost went kung-fu on his snooty little racket, when ' "Ronald," said Elizabeth, "your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat. You look like a real prince, but you are a bum." / They didn't get married after all. '

At this point, I am laughing so hard I can barely contain myself, but I have to as customers began to appear. "You are a bum" echoed through my mind the rest of the night, a smile plastered onto my face.

I'm not suggesting that Munsch or, the illustrator, Martchenko, are feminists, I can't even be sure that this is the main theme for this story, but I do know that they intended to pull away from the stigma of classic fairy tale literature: the prince saves the princess and, as a reward, marries her.

I don't negate marriage. I don't negate relationships in general (but who am I to speak, I've never had a relationship). I don't believe this book does either, but I do believe that this horribly wonderful children's story humorously and pointedly explains that if the dude is a prissy jerk, you better dump that bum! Especially after you just saved him and his snooty little racket from a castle-eating dragon!

This might not be very feminist of me, but the story, I think, could go both ways. If Elizabeth and Ronald switched places; if Ronald were the nice once, and Elizabeth were prissy, Ronald you better leave her bum, or she go'n whip you like cattle.

Perhaps that's why I've never been a 'hardcore' feminist: I already think everyone needs to be treated equally, that anyone regardless of gender, social class, culture, etc., deserves respect, for not only are we proud that Elizabeth has taken away the hand of marriage from Ronald, we hope, or, at the very least, I hope, Ronald will one day turn around and turn out to be a gentleman for another princess.

warning: this next quotation will have swearing.

"The truth is I love fashion, and I'm always asked to reconcile my feminism with that. But I don't think the two are mutually exclusive. In fact, I think that fashion is an incredibly powerful means of expressing your political views. As women, our bodies are objectified. If we use our bodies to flip the power dynamic by placing our political views across our tits, we can be damn sure people will pay attention. / The first T-shirt I made was for me. It boasted 'The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own,' the title of a book I was working on, and people went totally wild for it. People kept asking me to make shirts. It was pretty amazing to see people galvanized by this idea. Of course, it's not enough to just wear them, you have to walk the walk, you know? But wearing them is a great first step." -Periel Aschenbrand, from Kenneth Cole's Awearness

 Now, personally, I don't believe that's how I'd like to showcase my political views--that style is no where near my personality, but Aschenbrand's right: 'you have to walk the walk' with anything you believe.

James 2.14-26: What does it profit, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him? If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,” but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit? Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.But someone will say, “You have faith, and I have works.” Show me your faith without your works, and I will show you my faith by my works. You believe that there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believe—and tremble! But do you want to know, O foolish man, that faith without works is dead? Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered Isaac his son on the altar? Do you see that faith was working together with his works, and by works faith was made perfect? And the Scripture was fulfilled which says, “Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to him for righteousness.”And he was called the friend of God. You see then that a man is justified by works, and not by faith only.Likewise, was not Rahab the harlot also justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out another way?For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.

Plain and Cluttered: How much stuff is too much stuff?

A few weeks ago I visited a new friend's home. I got to see her bedroom, and what a lovely bedroom it was. Everything was white, save the blue, black, or gray accents that dotted the room. I felt I could breathe easy in that room. Then I took a look at her bookcase only to be struck with jealousy. "Oh," I thought, "She only owns the books that mean something to her." Immediately inspired I decided that it was about time I get rid of my clutter.

The very next day I attacked my bedroom. Well, actually. I wasn't attacking it. I was...healing it. The days and weeks before I'd been attacking it with my carelessness so...

The very next day I brushed away my bedroom's dusty wounds. I refolded clean clothes that had become a new rug over the rug I already had. I couldn't make my bed because it had to serve as a filing cabinet. There's a lot of stuff I have that may or may not be needed! Hey. Getting rid of things takes time. I mean, what if I accidentally throw out my social security card because it's stuffed in an old journal I didn't check?! HORROR!

Before I could touch my books I had to file away important documents, including sentimental trinkets, cards, etc. I picked out more clothes to donate. Then it was time to tackle the bookshelves and their books. And the floor's books. And the closet's books. Books, books, books. Everywhere. I don't even know why I own all these. Some of these books deserve to be burned.

I know. I'm a heathen. But seriously.

I was able to get rid of three trash bags worth of clothes, and four boxes worth of books. (I donated most of my children's literature and ESL textbooks to an English teacher I know.)

I looked at my books and clothes and was disgusted. Ah! I have so much crap.

Not that Anna Karenina is crap. It isn't! I love all things Tolstoy, but really, I haven't touched that book since I bought it. I would've been much better off borrowing it from the library or a friend. I don't need to own all the books recommended to me.

Yeah, I still want to have a personal library, but as of now, I've neither the space nor income to merit starting a library now.

All my donation bags are still sitting in the back of my trunk, waiting to be donated. My bedroom still isn't entirely clean.

I told my friend (with the inspirational bedroom) about my cleaning adventure. She thought it was a great idea. How she'd done that a couple years back. Then she asked this: "How is it that I still have to buy new [things, like clothing]? How is it that I still have to get rid of stuff after already getting rid of stuff?"

I immediately thought of third world countries, well, not just third world countries. Just as every third world country may entertain first world conditions, every first world country ignores its third world citizens.

How much stuff is too much stuff?

In spite of third world conditions some of those families are much happier with little to nothing than people who live in penthouses. They don't seem to have to hashtag their first world problems.

Now, I'm a bit of a pack rat. As much as I admired my new friend's simple, plain bedroom I also admire my old friend's thrift shop bedroom. When I walk into my old friend's bedroom I feel as though I find new treasures every time. I'm a lot like my old friend: sentiment overwhelms us. But I'm a lot like my new friend: clutter is still clutter.What sentiments do I still want? Besides, some sentiments were set on fire (by those with whom I share the sentiment) before I could even decide whether or not I should maintain sentimental feelings.

Sentiment has no practical value. But practicality without sentiment is still cold enough to burn.

There are still things I want to buy that I'll probably donate again, so...why do I want to buy them?

"How is it that I still have to get rid of stuff after already getting rid of stuff?"

I am in constant excess. I cannot possibly have so much attachment to so much material that I couldn't remember owning anyway.

No, I'm not entering survival mode. I am aware that I should be grateful I don't have to survive; I should be grateful I can thrive. But I must also live as though I am aware of others.

I ain't keepin' up wit' no Joneses...or Kardashians for that matter.

I don't know how much stuff is too much stuff, but I think it's a telltale sign to get rid of it if I haven't used it in a while. Two years of uselessness is a telltale sign.

Okay. I'm going to finish cleaning out my room now! It'll be Pinterest worthy, I think :D