I never loved Cinderella, Snow White, or any of the other passive, please-rescue-me-types who whistled while they scrubbed floors or wiled the years away waiting for someone else to pull them out of the tower. My hero was always the girl who had the nerve to dive down the rabbit hole, crash the tea party, and stand up to the army of cards dispatched by the Queen of Hearts. She ran fast, ate what she liked, and was never cowed by anyone she encountered during her adventures. Her curiosity inspired me, her bravery impressed me, her black Mary Jane shoes delighted me.

And they still do.

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