My Daughter Is Cute, but She's Other Things, Too

Baby toes. My friend, Christina, told me to be sure to take

pictures of baby toes. "Why?" I wondered. Then I saw them.

Even her little toes, which I otherwise think are sort of gross,
are adorable. Again, I am totally biased.

I have a very cute little girl. You may disagree, and you certainly do not have to care. Her little smiles, her belly laughs, and the way her already-long hair falls in her face warm my heart in ways surpassing words, but, as her father, what would you expect from me? I have no objectivity when it comes to my daughter's cuteness because I'm her dad. I do wish others would stop commenting on it, though.

Just the other day I took my 20 month old daughter with me to the bank. In the ten minutes we were in the place, with only a handful of employees around, she must have been complimented by the staff about ten times on how cute she is ("cute," "a cutie," "cutest little thing," "adorable," "a doll," etc. [I swear I should conduct a study on personality types represented by the adjective used; I have a large enough subject pool.]). Later that night when my partner and I braved a dinner out with our daughter, our toddler received similar compliments from multiple strangers, helped by her propensity to walk by tables smiling and waving. It's hardly a new experience, but it's also a little troubling for me.

I admit this might all sound like a roundabout way to brag about my daughter; truly, that's not my intent. We welcomed first compliments we received on our daughter's cuteness, which came from her NICU nurse. My partner and I beamed as the compliments continued through her early infancy. The simple sweetness of my daughter literally brought tears to my eyes, and to hear that others saw some joy in her as well swelled my heart even more. With time the charm of "cute" wore off; I often force smiles now to thank people for the compliment.

The "cute" issue has a lot to do with gender. It seems to me that boys stop being "cute" much sooner than girls. For the boys we focus on other adjectives, but with girls we seem to stay in the realm of cute. The research on gender abounds with examples of us all concentrating on women's appearance in ways we don't for men, both interpersonally and in media.

My fear, then, is that from an early age my daughter will learn exactly what she hears, that people appreciate her cuteness most. Between her inclination to be a ham and people telling her how cute she is, my daughter has already learned to be cute to be praised. I have a social child, but I also see her waving and smiling at strangers has to do with the inevitable, "how cute you are!" to which she grins wider and waves some more.

I'm hardly the first person to worry about this. Lisa Bloom mentioned the long term effects of complimenting girls and the need to move to other conversation starters than their dress or curls (she suggests asking about their favorite book). As Bloom admits, we naturally want to speak to a child's cuteness (perhaps more so for a girl), so the change takes some awareness of the issue.

I fully trust every kind word offered comes from a place of kindness to my daughter and me. I also think of my niece and nephews as children. Any picture of them in my hand or in my mind makes me smile; I see how cute they are. There's that cuteness of children that comes from seeing them through the lens of your love for them. We've all experienced that in one context or another, children or not. When my daughter's grandparents or aunts and uncles talk about her cuteness, I don't bristle for a second, because I hear it as an expression of their love for her. My angst comes from the well meaning friends and as well as strangers who, in a spirit of generosity, tell me how cute she is.

Of course, sometimes "cute" as a compliment refers to things other than looks; a small child sweetly waving is cute. Even then, can we be more creative than "cute"?

When my daughter was nine months old I asked a friend, who had raised a child into college, about my concern that people only comment on my daughter's looks. "It's all people really have to say; they can't compliment her math skills," she explained. True, I thought and then, later, how uncreative!

Our daughter's pediatrician has always shown ways to compliment a child without ever once mentioning cuteness. From the time our child was a week old and every visit after, the pediatrician has commented on our daughter's quickness to study a face, her ability to focus and keep attention, or her verbal expressiveness: I trust children unlike my daughter hear about their inquisitiveness, curiosity to see everything, or quiet, reflective nature.

My daughter, like every child, has many wonderful traits having nothing to do with her physical appearance; let's focus on those. Here are some ides for what to say to my, or any, toddler you see out in public that moves away from "cute":

• Wow, you've got lots of energy.
• Aren't you social?
• You like to read? That's great.
• How friendly you are.
• It looks like you take good care of your monkey (or whatever the stuffed animal is).
• What a nice child you are.
• Do you like to talk?
• You play so quietly.

Ok, the list isn't great, but you get the idea; in a given context you can compliment a child saying nothing about appearance.

Please, if you know my child and me, don't feel you have to avoid speaking to her when I'm around or that I am wanting to control your interactions. I'm not angry that you have called her "cute." Instead, know that I am trying to raise a confident, strong daughter in a culture that—from where I sit—makes women check themselves in the mirror three times before they can go out in public (sometimes afraid to not wear make up), that tells women that for all their talents and accomplishments their looks will always be on the table for discussion, and that their bodies are their most important assets if they want to truly succeed socially and professionally.

I am trying to raise a smart, kind, responsible child, and I need all the help I can get.


PS Are you tired of the word "cute" now (I used it 26 times)? Well, if so, join the club.