Several weeks ago, I read a short article in The Huffington Post by Lisa Bloom “How to Talk to Little Girls.” As an aunt to four “chiblings” (read: children of siblings), two of whom are little girls, I found that Bloom’s article struck a particularly resonant chord. My sister and her husband do a tremendous job of raising these little girls to feel loved and confident. And yet, I worry. Have I been doing my best to show in speech and conduct the traits about them that I value most? These two dear little girls have several years ahead of them during which society will attempt to mold them dramatically. It starts with Disney princesses who wait patiently for their princes; it ends with a woman disinclined to pursue active life roles in favor of the passive ones she’s been told are superior – morally and otherwise. And what if the prince never comes? What then?

I want these two precious little girls to have choices. If they want to take more traditional roles, I want them to do so for their own reasons, not because husbands bully them or aunts, uncles, and grandparents threaten to shame them if they do otherwise. My family has always been more conventional and, perhaps unintentionally, tends to promote the traditional lifestyle as the superior path. But I want these girls to feel that they can do as they please, that they are capable, intelligent human beings set to succeed in whatever roles they choose. In short, I want to help them – and all little girls – feel how I wish I’d felt on the cusp of grand life decisions: capable, content, and supported, regardless of the path I ultimately chose.

Bloom’s article opened my eyes to a means of accomplishing this aim that I hadn’t considered before. What we pass on to little girls as important depends on what we always emphasize. And what we emphasize is usually whatever comes out of our mouths, especially when we greet them – for the first time or the hundredth time. I’m not always the best at speaking to children, especially children to whom I’m allowed a more playful relationship rather than a more disciplinarian, paid-$18-an-hour-to-be here one. To tell the truth, I’m a little ashamed to admit that what has usually come out of my mouth in greeting to my nieces has been exactly what Bloom pointed out is least helpful.

“My, don’t you look so pretty!” was, sadly, my most common form of “Hello.”

My only comfort is that so many, maybe even including a few of you readers, do or have done the same. Many variations on the theme exist, but it always comes with the same message attached: “The first thing I notice about you, little child, is how you look. Are you tidy? Are you lovely? Yes? Then I’m content to interact with you.”

Little girls receive the message that what matters off the bat, the thing sought first and foremost from them, is beauty. Instead, why not say hello, then ask, “What books have you been reading?” or “What games have you been playing lately?” Questions like these invite conversation, foster relationship, and demonstrate genuine interest in the person-hood of the child. In many cases, it encourages an intellectual or emotional response, one that implies safety and sincerity. Teaching a little girl that she’s beautiful is all well and good, but appearance is one of those areas that benefits from less commentary rather than more; our daughters, sisters, nieces, and what have you will learn to feel comfortable in their skins precisely when we allow them to, and that usually means taking a long, careful think about how we feel in our own skins first.

So I’ve resolved to make a few changes in how I behave toward my nieces and all little girls: (1) I will show that I care about their personal interests and their minds over and above physical appearance; (2) I will encourage them to explore active, creative games or pastimes whenever possible; and (3) I will always ask about them as people rather than comment on features of themselves they cannot influence, change, or discuss.

Michelle Miller is a twenty-something blogger, cook, freelance writer and editor living in Seattle, Washington. She’s a feminist trying ever-so-hard to embrace her spaces, conventional or not. She looks forward to numerous bad hair days, burnt cremes, a soapbox or two, and maybe (just maybe) a yellow polka-dot bikini in the years ahead. You can find her website here.

Originally published at Persephone Magazine. Republished with the author’s permission.

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