Passion at Play

by Jean Marie Moffa
May 1, 2007

Well before our daughters were born, I had decided: I was buying no pink, we were not reading about princesses, and our girls certainly would do no waiting around for princes in shining armor. I was going to raise strong girls. Self-sufficient girls. Girls not bound to sex role stereotypes, limited by their gender, or counting on men to save them from their misery. I had ideals, after all. And my daughters were going to live them.

I am passionate in my life, if nothing else. Passionate about ideas, issues, and deeply held beliefs. I have been a passionate teacher, a passionate vegetarian, and a passionate feminist. Over the years, I've become passionate about the virtues of knitting, the wonder of creating beautiful things, and the goodness of purging possessions, to name a few.

A few years ago, I began wondering if I was losing my passion. Clear, honest evaluation brought home the reality that, as I was aging, I was coming much closer to center--in everything from my politics to my food choices and my take on the issues a woman faces as she makes her way through this world.

Which brings me back to princesses.

Last week, my family and I spent a day at Disneyworld's Magic Kingdom. This was our family's first trip there, and how we held it off this long, I'll never know. Waiting until our girls were 8 and 10 is a virtual travesty, by today's cultural standards. Countless families we know go annually, and for days on end, each trip.

So why did we do it? And, more importantly, what happened once we got there? Well, we did it because somewhere deep within us, we felt the tug--we felt the responsibility, even--to allow our daughters this culturally iconic experience. We stalled, we resisted, for years--even up to the very week preceding our visit. But somehow, a wisdom greater than us got through the white noise of our arguments against such foolishness (consumerism, chaos, cost, and let us not forget, the reinforcement of that whole princess nightmare.)

And so, last week, we did Disneyworld's Magic Kingdom, full on. And you know what? We were exhilarated. Each and every one of us. During the course of our day there, I figured out why: Disney understands passion.

We were met with creativity at every turn. Over and over again, I was stopped in my tracks, in awe of the unbelievable show of artistic and logistical genius surrounding us. As we moved from one activity to the next, we were no less than stunned at the array of beauty, vibrancy, interest, good design, and efficiency. Here, it was made very clear to me, here was a place where creative minds met, where innovation became the standard and norm.

And you know what sealed it? The princesses. I was admittedly not excited to watch the parades, expecting to be discouraged, even overwhelmed, by the array of princesses. I was wrong. So wrong, in fact, that I found myself getting misty-eyed.

With the words "It all started with a mouse," the afternoon parade began, speaking directly to the vision of Walt Disney and of the creativity he inspired. Musical themes pulled from movies, and intertwined with new lyrics ("Just believe and your dreams will come true!") this parade became a celebration of following dreams, of searching for more in our lives, of creating our futures in unpredictable, and unprecedented, ways. Disney transformed these princesses and princes, and the host of other characters in between, to an army of hope and vision and yes, passion. We left that parade--and another, and the park, itself--with the blessing of this passion, contemplating our own dreams, and how we will make them come true.

Our girls wear pink sometimes. They have loved Ariel and Belle and Alladin. In the midst of these tales, they have let their own hearts soar, questioned their lives and started to create their own dreams. We are raising them to be strong in their bodies and spirits, so that they can make their own dreams come true.

As for me, I haven't lost ground on my ideals and passions--I'm gaining the wisdom to know that these things can be found in many more places than I had ever imagined.

Disneyworld, included.