Princess Kevin

It’s costume day at Kevin’s school, but he doesn’t want to go as a knight, cowboy, or superhero. “Kevin is a princess,” this story tells us in no uncertain terms. He’s borrowed things from his mother and sister and knows he looks good. The book reinforces the idea that the whole point of costumes is to “become someone totally different.”

Walking to school, Kevin reflects that if the girls in his class can dress as knights and cowboys, doing what they want, so can he.

He feels that pairing with someone dressed as a knight would “complete the look,” but none of the children dressed as knights (who all read as boys) want to hold his hand. They don’t think boys should wear pink—a position that goes against the knightly idea of bravery, Kevin thinks.

He finds support, however, in a girl whose costume looks more like a sock than the intended dragon. Still, as the day goes on, Kevin starts to feel uncomfortable in his heels, and nearly falls over during the class pageant. By the end of the day, he’s had enough. Next year, he won’t be a princess … he’ll be a mermaid.

I love the way this story seems to be veering towards the message that boys shouldn’t be princesses, only to subvert that with another gender-creative choice. It’s a nice way of underscoring that femininity, expressed by children of any gender, can have multiple forms. A positive addition to books about gender creativity and gender stereotypes.

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