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Despite the resurgence of feminism, our culture’s collective princess fetish remains strong. Before she became a symbol of the march, petitions to crown Leia an official Disney princess circled the internet in the weeks following Carrie Fisher’s death. Our insatiable appetite for all things Kate Middleton knows no bounds, and Canadians were recently delighted to discover a potential princess story (Meghan Markle) in our very midst. The public fervour over Markle was so strong that tabloids attempted to bribe her former partners and friends for scoops.

Disney itself certainly hasn’t slowed down the unstoppable princess machine. Frozen’s Elsa is one of the most popular animated characters in recent memory, and fans can barely contain their excitement for Polynesian princess Moana.

Even Emma Watson – who speaks to the United Nations about women’s rights, leads the organization’s #HeForShe campaign and promotes candid conversations about female sexuality and pleasure – plays classic Disney princess Belle in the upcoming live-action remake of Beauty and the Beast.

Princesses, and Disney princesses in particular, faced a backlash starting in the late 90s and early 00s over criticisms that they present an idealized view of women, unrealistic beauty standards, an unhealthy willingness to do anything to “get the prince” and stereotypical gender roles. Parents became wary of introducing their daughters to the likes of Snow White, Ariel and Sleeping Beauty. Meanwhile, the tragic death of Princess Diana, along with the Royal Family’s perceived mistreatment of her, cast a harsh and unflattering light on what it meant to live out a real-life royal fairytale. People loved her not because of her bejewelled crown, but because of all the ways she embodied an anti-princess.