Once upon a time, little Tricia devoured princess stories like they were candy. Sparkly gowns! Handsome princes! But she couldn’t help wondering: Where’s the princess with tightly coiled hair like mine? Or a crown and gown dripping with cultural swag? Fast-forward a few years (and a Creative Writing degree later!), and Tricia grabbed her pen like a magic wand to rewrite the fairy tale rulebook.

Tricia Knights crafts stories where Black princesses rock crowns made of courage, slay doubt with confidence, and toss gravity the side-eye with hairstyles so bold that they deserve their theme song. Her books aren’t just bedtime stories—they’re confetti cannons of joy, packed with vibrant traditions, melanated magic, and characters who wink at readers and say: “Hey, we’ve been waiting for YOU!”

Because every child deserves to whirl into a story, twirl in a spotlight, and shout:   

“That’s ME—and I’m FABULOUS!” ✨

Let’s be real—representation is not just a buzzword; it’s a lifeline. And for Black little girls growing up in a world that often tries to dim their light before it even gets a chance to shine, seeing themselves reflected as royalty in books, movies, and media is essential.

 When a Black girl sees a character who looks like her wearing a crown, commanding respect, and owning her space with grace and power, it plants a seed: I am worthy. I am beautiful. I am powerful. That seed blossoms into confidence, self-worth, and resilience—three things every Black girl needs in a society that too often feeds her the opposite.

Too many times, Black girls are portrayed in media through the lens of struggle, toughness, or comic relief. Rarely are they shown as soft, regal, or sacred. But why not? Historically, African cultures were filled with queens, warriors, priestesses, and powerful women. So when little Black girls open a book and see a character with skin like theirs, hair like theirs, and culture like theirs being treated with reverence and dignity, it realigns the narrative. It reclaims the truth.

 Royal representation also teaches girls that they don’t need to earn love, value, or beauty—they already have it. It tells them that their magic isn’t conditional on how quiet, how palatable, or how "well-behaved" they are. It’s innate. And when stories reinforce that truth, they help counteract the damage caused by colorism, Eurocentric beauty standards, and societal erasure.

It’s also about normalizing excellence. When a Black girl sees herself as a princess or a leader—not just once, but often—it no longer feels like a rare exception. It feels like a birthright. It encourages her to dream bigger and demand more from the world and herself.

 But let’s not stop at just crowns and castles. Royalty is also a mindset. Books that show Black girls navigating life with dignity, kindness, wisdom, and strength are just as important. Whether they’re solving mysteries, traveling through space, or planting gardens with grandma, they are still modeling self-love and pride in identity.

We need more authors, animators, and publishers to commit to centering Black girlhood in joyful, whimsical, and elevated ways. And we need parents, teachers, and librarians to seek out and share these stories intentionally, not just during Black History Month, but year-round.

Because the truth is, when a Black girl sees herself as royalty in a story, she doesn’t just walk away entertained—she walks away empowered. She walks away knowing that her story matters. That she matters.

And that’s the kind of magic that can change everything. 

Want to make a difference? Buy a book that centers a Black girl as the hero. Gift it. Donate it. Read it aloud. Let’s flood their imaginations with images that honor their beauty, their culture, and their power. 

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