Cinderella: A Behavioral Profile

Identity, power, and why cats would’ve never fallen for any of this.

Every girl needs the intervention of barn cats who show up like, “girl… no.” Image created digitally.

I’ve been thinking about learned helplessness, social conditioning, and why cats would never submit to someone else’s narrative. Humans, meanwhile, get Cinderella’d. So I rewrote the story the way a behaviorist sees it: a slow erosion of agency disguised as a fairy tale. It’s got identity, power, survival, and one girl who absolutely should’ve been raised by a colony of barn cats.

Once upon a time, there was a wealthy entrepreneur and landowner who loved his daughter Cinderella very much. Cinderella’s mother died when she was very young, and she had only a few vague but precious memories of her. Father and daughter were very close. They lived quiet lives on their country estate except for his brief trips around the kingdom related to his various charities. In his absence, Cinderella helped manage the estate. Even though she was still quite young, she was kind, gentle, and very good with people. Her fathers’ tenants and workers adored her.

When Cinderella was sixteen, her father came home from a trip with a new lady friend. Cinderella didn’t know what to think, as her father had never brought a lady friend home before. The lady friend was a fashionable socialite and widow of a nobleman. She had two daughters roughly the same age as Cinderella. Cinderella knew how difficult it was to lose a loved one. She gave the socialite a warm welcome to her home.

“I do hope we’ll be great friends!” said the socialite. “Oh, dear. It’s a shame you’re so awkward, isn’t it? Your clothes!” She gave a throaty little laugh. “Darling, surely you don’t expect her to go around in those every day! Not to worry. We’ll get you something new for the wedding!” She laughed again.

Cinderella looked at her dress. What was the matter with her clothes? Then she realized “darling” must mean Papa! Wedding? She tried to catch her father’s eye, but he was gazing at the socialite, looking enraptured, hypnotized, or both.

“Wedding, madam?” Cinderella asked, politely. Her head was reeling.

“Darling! You could have let the child know!” The socialite chided Cinderella’s father. They both laughed over Cinderella’s head as she looked from one to the other and then back again. Child? Wedding? Was her father under a fairy’s curse?

“Tell your new stepmother how happy you are that she’s joining the family!” encouraged her father.

“Pardon me, madam, it’s just a surprise,” Cinderella said. “Welcome. I hope you’ll be very happy here.” She curtseyed.

“Well, it’s not exactly town, is it? Nothing to do out here in the country, I’m sure my girls will be quite bored with nothing but cows and sheep for company! But we’ll all be very cozy together. Oh, your hair is splendid, but what a pity it’s quite so thick and straight. Not to worry! My girls will show you how to walk and stand properly. You’ll get over that clumsiness in no time at all!” She gave another throaty laugh.

In a matter of weeks, Cinderella’s new Stepmother and stepsisters were installed at her home. The girls were just as stylish as their mother, and Cinderella tried her best to help them settle in, but her efforts never seemed to be quite right.

“Oh, it is drafty, isn’t it, mother?” cried Karen. “Brrr! I guess you don’t really notice the cold! You’re so sturdy, isn’t she, Lisa?’

“Positively sturdy,” agreed Lisa. “We’re so envious! One of these drafts would just about kill us, I’m sure! Cinderella, would you mind fetching me that fur cloak?”

Cinderella tried to make them as comfortable as possible. Her father was proud of his new wife. Stepmother reminded them many times that she could have married any number of knights or noblemen, but she had chosen Father out of love. Father’s happiness gave Cinderella great joy. And it was nice having female company in the big house again.

Time passed. Seasons came and went. Cinderella grew older. Stepmother and father stopped traveling to the continent because Father caught a bad cold that settled into his chest.

Father’s health declined, and by the time of her eighteenth birthday, Cinderella was an orphan. Stepmother was also grieving, and she spent most of her time in her room with the curtains drawn, and she suffered from headaches. Cinderella grieved for her father terribly, but she kept busy. She looked after Stepmother as best as she could. Throughout her father’s illness, Cinderella had shouldered the entire burden of managing the estate. Now she did most of the work inside the house as well. She looked after her remaining family quietly and efficiently, and she never complained.

Cinderella’s only dark moments were when she went over the account books, reading by the light of the kitchen fire to save on candles. Stepmother had always spent lavishly, and lack of money had become a problem after Father died. Cinderella economized wherever she could to make ends meet. The woodland creatures came to help out now and then, but even though Cinderella loved the company, they usually created even more messes for Cinderella to clean up.

Stepmother, Karen, and Lisa were sometimes rather difficult to please. They had spent their lives with maids and servants to obey their beck and call, and they had trouble making do with only Cinderella. Cinderella tried her best, but sometimes she did feel quite run off her feet. During these times, Cinderella tried to be especially patient and gentle. Stepmother rarely laughed anymore. She seemed to constantly find fault with things: the house, the estate, and most of all, Cinderella herself.

“Cinderella! We must do something about this place! How can I be expected to find you all husbands in this ghastly environment? We can’t give parties or have houseguests in this awful, dank, crumbling house! We’d need new furniture, and these curtains are ghastly, and what would everyone think of us, living here like peasants?” Stepmother would go on in this vein for some time while Cinderella would nod sympathetically until Stepmother’s tears started, which they always did.

“Mother! Oh, mother! What will become of us!” Karen and Lisa would join in.

These episodes became more and more frequent. Cinderella would put Stepmother to bed with a hot water bottle and bring each of her stepsisters steaming mugs of chocolate. Then she would go down to the kitchens and look over the books and stare into the fire, watching the embers burn.

One morning, Stepmother went visiting at the palace and she came home looking years younger, calling for her daughters.

“Karen! Lisa! Come here, girls! Oh, the most wonderful news!” Stepmother called out. Cinderella came out of the kitchen, wiping floury hands on her apron. She had let Cook go months ago, and now she did all the housework and cooking herself. Stepmother’s eyes went over her messy appearance and she winced. Karen and Lisa begged for their mother’s news.

“The Princess Ava– you know Ava, my oldest and dearest friend, we were at finishing school together at Schönbrüken, you remember me talking about her? Darling Princess Ava! She’s offered to sponsor you girls to launch you into society!” she beamed at her daughters. Karen and Lisa were thrilled, and they buzzed around their mother with a million questions.

“When, mother, when? Will the prince be there?” Karen cried.

“Will there be dancing? Oh, mother! We have nothing to wear!” Lisa fretted.

“How will we afford it?” Cinderella asked. Stepmother frowned at her.

“’Sponsor’ means that the dear Princess will pay for everything. That’s how royalty behaves, but of course, you can’t be expected to know that. The ball will be held at the palace, of course! And thank goodness, because we certainly can’t receive anyone here. Oh, I know you do your best, my dear.” Stepmother gave a martyr’s sigh. “Well, the Princess was always the most generous lady, truly a saint! Of course I accepted, but you girls will have to be on your absolute best behavior! We’ll have to have the dressmakers and the dance tutor here…” Stepmother started making a list.

Cinderella was happy that Stepmother was looking so well. She wanted to prolong her gaiety. She gave Karen a deep and courtly bow. “May I have this dance, Lady Karen?” Karen gave a little cry of horror and stepped back.

“Mother! She’ll get flour all over me!”

“Cinderella, don’t be silly. You don’t know how to dance. We can’t have you stepping all over Karen’s feet and hurting her before the ball, now can we?”

Cinderella did in fact know how to dance, and very well, in fact. Her father had taught her. But she remembered her manners, and she didn’t want to annoy Stepmother, not when her next question was so important.

“Am I to go too?” she asked.

Stepmother’s brow furrowed. “Oh, Cinderella…” she sighed. “Cinderella, I’m sorry. The Princess has been so generous, but she only offered to sponsor Karen and Lisa. I couldn’t ask for more than that. You know Karen and Lisa are peers of the realm, and your father…” she trailed off. “Anyway, it’s all for the best. This is a society ball, and you must agree that you aren’t really suited for this kind of company. Oh, it’s not your fault, my dear, I know you do your best with what you have.”

“I understand,” said Cinderella. Karen and Lisa had been brought up rubbing elbows with people in royal society, and she hadn’t. She sighed and went back into the kitchen.

The night of the ball, however, she sat by the fire as usual, trying to concentrate on the account books. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to see her stepsisters off to the ball. She was happy for them, she really was. But still…if only…she gave a great sigh, and then she gave a shriek, because a woman had appeared in front of her, right there in the kitchen.

“I say! Ah – who are you?” Cinderella asked politely.

“I’m your fairy godmother, and I’m here to make sure you go to the ball, Cinderella!” she said, grandly.

“Ah – no, really, I don’t want to go,” said Cinderella. “You see, I don’t have anything to wear, and it’s just as well, because I’m a nobody. I’m awkward and clumsy, and definitely too sturdy, and my hair is awful and straight and I can’t do a thing with it,” Cinderella explained. “Anyway, I’d be afraid to walk in there alone, and my only friends are the critters in the forest, and I’m sure they’re busy doing woodland things. So you see, it’s really best that I stay home.”

The fairy godmother raised her eyebrows. By the time Cinderella had finished speaking, the fairy’s godmother’s eyebrows were practically in her hairline.

“STOP THIS INSTANT! She ordered. “Good lord! Do you really think all that junk?” Cinderella nodded. The godmother rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you understand that worries, doubts, and fears can become beliefs if you let them?”

Cinderella thought that the fairy godmother was either speaking a foreign language or possibly insane, but she didn’t say anything, as she didn’t want to be rude. The lady shook her head.

“Oh, dear, this is going to take a lot more than a little wand work, but I’m on a deadline and I have a quota to fill, so I only have a minute,” she said, rolling up her sleeves and flexing the fingers of her wand hand. “I’ll give you the works, but it’ll only last until midnight, so you’d best make sure to leave the party before then.” She waved her wand.

Suddenly Cinderella was wearing a gorgeous ball gown, far more stylish and sumptuous than anything she had ever seen before. She caught sight of her reflection in the kitchen window. She gasped. She looked like the painting of her mother that used to hang in her father’s study.

“There’s a coach outside, but you’ll still have to walk in alone. I can’t do anything about your courage. But I believe you’ll find some for the occasion,” the fairy godmother dusted a few remaining magical sparks from her hands. “Now off you pop. I’ll try to meet you back here after my shift is over.” And she disappeared.

Cinderella took a deep breath. She drew herself up and squared her shoulders. And before she could change her mind, she drew a curtain across the kitchen fire and ran to the waiting coach.

*******

The fairy godmother was waiting by the kitchen fire when Cinderella limped home just past midnight. Tears streaked her face, and she was carrying a shoe in each hand.

“So how did it go?” the fairy godmother asked.

“Glass shoes! Glass high-heeled shoes!” Cinderella threw them, one after another, into the fire, where they smashed into pieces. “What were you thinking?!” The fairy godmother looked at the shards of glass with dismay.

“That’s fine behavior,” she said. “Did your mother teach you to criticize a gift?” Cinderella turned red.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. That was ill-mannered. It’s just that it was so hard! There was some prince who found me early on, and he demanded every dance and wouldn’t let me sit down. He barely let me leave in time,” said Cinderella. “Is that normal? He kept hinting about how he needed to get married for the good of the kingdom, and there I was like magic, his ideal woman. Like that guy is still going to want me when he sees the way I usually look! I felt like such a great big phony. And my feet hurt.” She sank to her knees in front of the fairy godmother, who patted her back reassuringly.

“There, there,” she said. “I’m afraid that all your doubts and fears have already become beliefs, and it’s not magic you need. It’s wisdom and true friends. And the courage and faith that comes from being self-sufficient and independent.”

“Where do I find all that?” asked Cinderella. “Do I go back to the Prince and explain?”

“Good heavens, sweetie!” cried the fairy godmother. “You’ve spent your life in service to your family, and now you look to spend the rest of it in service to another?”

Cinderella thought about this. Is that what she was doing? She definitely didn’t want that.

“You have to make your own way in the world. You’ll need great courage and faith to be independent. “ She stood up. “Start in the village,” she advised. “Step one is to find gainful employment. Never work for free again. Best of luck! I’m sure you’ll do fine!” She smiled, and after giving Cinderella’s shoulder a quick pat, she disappeared.

Cinderella looked around the kitchen. She wrote Stepmother a note and left it on the table. Then she drew a threadbare cloak around her shoulders and left.