I consider myself a feminist. It’s hard not to be when you’re a woman. There has been so much debate about what feminism is and whether or not people “need” it that the very simple message of feminism has gotten somewhat lost: the message that women are in fact people too, and should be respected as such. That respect comes in all kinds of forms, from respecting women enough to pay them the same as men to respecting them enough to not blame the women themselves for violent acts perpetrated against them, to respecting them enough to allow them to make their own decisions regarding reproduction. It’s a simple enough idea to get behind. But there are so many factions within feminism that it doesn’t always appear to be a simple idea. Sometimes, some of the things you love come under fire as anti-feminist.
One thing I love is Disney.
People are willing to concede that recently (and by that I mean Princess and The Frog and forward—Mulan came earlier but technically she is not a princess and therefore not part of the Princess Debate) Disney has made efforts to break free from stereotypes. However, there’s still plenty of talk about how the earlier movies have anti-feminist undertones, and the affect such things have on children, especially little girls. I think people are too hard on the earlier Princess movies. Most of the arguments are predicated on small plot points, but in context they really aren’t that damning (or in some cases, even accurate). If watching Ariel and Belle sing their songs and live their 90-minute lives was damaging, I think I made it through okay. It is my belief that the whole story is immensely important when considering these arguments against Disney Princesses, and whether or not they pose a problem for the little girls who love them.
Snow White and Cinderella are two standards for the Disney Princess model. Snow White was Walt Disney’s first feature-length animated film in 1937, and Cinderella followed in 1950. Both movies’ biggest problem is the idea that each respective Princess is helpless but for a prince’s rescue. The main conflict in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves is between the titular princess and The Evil Queen, and that conflict is solely about looks. The Evil Queen tasks a huntsman with not just killing Snow White, but cutting out her heart and bringing it back to her in a little box, all so the Queen can once again be the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. This kind of competition rooted in physical appearances is not something you’d want a young girl to think is normal, but I don’t think she would. After all, the character most concerned with this has Evil right in her name. Kids usually have an all-encompassing understanding of the concepts of good and evil, that is, if someone is understood to be evil, most of the things they do and say are done and said with evil intentions. If the Evil Queen’s hatred of Snow White is based on beauty, then little girls can understand that this is something an evil person does, not a good one. There’s also Snow White’s big song in the movie, “Someday My Prince Will Come.” It’s pretty easy to pin the song as a prime example of the problem Princess movies can pose. However, let’s consider the trajectory of Snow White’s life so far. Her father died when she was a child, and immediately her stepmother forced her to work as a scullery maid. Then, when her magic mirror informed her that Snow White was the fairest woman in the kingdom, her stepmother sent a huntsman to kill her. By the sheer luck of the huntsman’s change of heart, Snow White was spared but forced to flee her home. She makes a new home among seven dwarves (six of which, at least, are pleasant to be around). But even as she and the dwarves get along, she’s been robbed of not just her home, but her whole kingdom and position. If singing optimistically about the one bright spot in the darkness she was chased out of brings Snow White some comfort, I won’t begrudge her for it.
Optimism is one of Cinderella’s strengths as well. Like Snow White, Cinderella is forced into servitude by a stepmother with no hope of an improved life. The kind of treatment Cinderella receives on a daily basis would make any person bitter at best, vengeful at worst. However, in our first introduction of Cinderella, she holds one thing dear: “They can’t order me to stop dreaming.” The optimism she gets from dreaming is critical for her survival. Instead of letting her mistreatment twist her into an angry person devoid of empathy, Cinderella cares for others, from the mice that scurry through the house up to even her stepmother and stepsisters, if only evidenced by the fact that she’s never poisoned their morning tea. When the invitation comes to attend a ball at the palace, Cinderella’s hopes rise—after all, she is a single woman in the kingdom, and therefore eligible to attend as a possible bride for the Prince. I feel this is a good place to note that meeting the prince is not expressly part of Cinderella’s goal, even at this point. She just wants to get out, even for one night. After the stepsisters destroy the dress her mice friends fix for her, Cinderella is worse off than when she started; her hope is gone. That’s when we meet the Fairy Godmother. With her magic, she provides Cinderella with a coach, a driver, a footman, and a beautiful dress (and still doesn’t name the Prince as the endgame in all this—she just wants to help Cinderella have one night of magic and fun). Unlike in Snow White, Cinderella shows a woman empowering another woman. It’s a nice change to see, since the rest of the women in Cinderella’s life are determined to tear her down. You could almost argue that the Prince-as-rescuer is an afterthought; after the ball is over and the Fairy Godmother’s magic has expired, Cinderella is happy to just have the memory of that night. The fact that the Duke shows up with the glass slipper Cinderella lost is just a lucky twist of fate.
Sleeping Beauty came after Cinderella in 1957, and was a financial flop and a drain on the animators involved. Disney then spent thirty-two years making animated features about characters that were not princesses; indeed, a lot of their stars were not even human. Financial success flagged until The Little Mermaid in 1989 began a period known as the Disney Renaissance. The movie is based on the Hans Christian Andersen fairytale of the same name, and tells the story of a mermaid named Ariel who, after falling in love for a human prince, is convinced by a sea witch to give up her voice in exchange for a pair of legs. If she can get the prince to kiss her by sunset on the third day, she’ll stay a human forever; if not, she will turn back into a mermaid and forever be property of the sea witch. This movie inspires a lot of wrath: a girl drastically changes her physical appearance to be with a man and gives up her voice on top of it. But as in the Evil Queen’s issues with Snow White, it’s easy to see how the source of these decisions clearly defines it as unwise behavior. Before I get to that, though, I want to highlight something that often goes unsaid about Ariel. If this was a BuzzFeed listicle about what college majors the Disney Princesses would choose, many would go for music or maybe marine biology for Ariel. But this princess would go into anthropology for sure. Even before she meets Prince Eric, Ariel has a major fascination for the world beyond the sea. When we first meet her, she’s poking around a sunken ship for new treasures from the human world; she has an entire cave filled with the items she’s collected. Ariel’s father forbids her from having anything to do with the human world, and the thing that gets me is he never gives her a concrete reason why she should fear them. Ariel’s father is basically a xenophobe, and she rebels against it. In her song “Part of That World,” she talks of “bright young women” making their own decisions and how she’d “ask them my questions and get some answers.” She wants to explore and learn, not just take her fathers’ judgments for gospel. After she encounters Prince Eric for the first time (and by the way, saves his life—how’s that for a damsel-in-distress reversal?) Ariel’s father discovers her collection of human-world artifacts, which now includes the statue of Eric that fell off the ship in the storm. He destroys everything, repeating his forbiddance of Ariel going up to the surface. And that’s when Ariel gets into a bad crowd, namely Ursula the sea witch and her pet eels. Ursula, for her part, chooses her moment well: Ariel is bereft at the loss of her treasures and therefore extremely vulnerable. She latches onto Ariel’s infatuation with the prince and gives her the opportunity to run away from her father and be with Eric. We know Ursula is evil, so when she insists that swapping her tail for a pair of legs and giving up her voice is a good idea, we know this is all a big trick. If Ariel hadn’t been suckered in so soon after her confrontation with her father, she might have chosen differently. But since she is in a vulnerable place, and she is an impulsive, rebellious teenager, she goes for it. It’s ironic to say, but her poor choices are a result of Ariel being human. Once she is human, she doesn’t spend all her time just staring longingly at Eric, either. You see the joy Ariel takes from the human world itself, especially during the montage where Eric shows her his kingdom, from the enthusiastic carriage ride to the gleeful (although not entirely graceful) dancing. There’s a lot of things to admire about Ariel, even if she is flawed enough to let her emotions make rash decisions.
Beauty and the Beast should really mark the beginning of the Disney Princess revolution. Belle is considered odd in her town: she is considered to be the most beautiful girl there, but chooses to spend her time engrossed in a book. Gaston is considered the most handsome man in town and he wants to marry her, but Belle is repulsed by his arrogance. This is a princess that all feminists should raise onto their shoulders, but very few do. It has to do in part with the inaccurate labelling of Belle’s situation as Stockholm syndrome. Recently, Alternative Disney posted a picture on their Facebook page that details the true instances of Stockholm syndrome in Disney movies; Beauty and the Beast isn’t one of them. To summarize their point, Belle doesn’t accept the Beast’s harsh treatment of her and only responds kindly when he begins to show her genuine respect. And if you want to get really technical about it, Stockholm syndrome doesn’t apply to Belle and the Beast because Belle isn’t technically the Beast’s prisoner. The Beast forces Belle’s father into captivity after he wanders into his castle. When Belle comes to the castle, she volunteers to take her father’s place. Belle is there by choice (a no-brainer choice for a woman whose father is being imprisoned, but a choice nonetheless). The other, pithier argument against Beauty and the Beast is that it’s about bestiality. And if you want to ignore the fact that the Beast is a prince under a witch’s curse and therefore not actually an animal, well…I guess you could do that. You’d be wrong. But you’re free to be so. The point of the Beast’s appearance is to make him as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside when he refused to help the witch, so he could learn that how someone looks isn’t as important as how they treat others. Belle understands this concept completely: she rejects Gaston because his personality is offensive, and once the Beast shows that he can be compassionate, she begins to be his friend.
I feel like Jasmine gets forgotten because the movie she’s in is all about the male protagonist. And I think it’s fine that Aladdin’s journey gets center stage because he honestly goes through the most change. But that doesn’t mean we should forget Jasmine’s role in the evolution of the Disney Princess. When we first meet Jasmine, her pet tiger Rajah has just chased off a potential suitor. Like Belle before her, Jasmine isn’t impressed by the conceited men who ask for her hand in marriage. Compounding that is the rule that Jasmine must marry a prince by her next birthday, according to the laws of the kingdom. Her choices are frightfully limited and she does not have the benefit of time. What Jasmine wants more than anything is to have the freedom to choose when she gets married and to whom. As she escapes over the palace walls, she tells Rajah, “I can’t stay here and have my life lived for me.” Like Ariel, she runs from a life that feels like being a prisoner, but she does it without having to run to a man. She strikes out fully on her own, and while she isn’t completely successful in her independence (she incurs the wrath of a fruit merchant by taking an apple and giving it to hungry children without having money to pay for it), she learns quickly, and isn’t frightened off the idea of self-reliance. And once Aladdin makes his reappearance as Prince Ali, Jasmine calls him out on his bravado in telling the sultan he’ll win her. Later she also calls him out on his deception. Jasmine is secure enough to point out when the men in her life are wrong.
These princesses have come under fire, to some degree, as bad role models for the little girls who love them. I don’t think enough credit is given to these girls for knowing the difference between fiction and reality. And I think there’s something to be said for the way parents treat their daughters and how that affects this notion of girls being princesses. When I was a child, I once asked my mom why she never used “princess” as a term of endearment for me. Her answer was simple: “Because you’re not a princess.” She had no problem with my enjoyment of Disney movies, and she rather likes them herself. But she also knew it was up to her, and not movies, to teach me how to behave like a normal girl.
Disney’s latest princess movie, Frozen, was an undeniable hit. It boasted two princesses, one of whom actually became queen in the plot of the movie and had supernatural powers. It didn’t end with a wedding, but with the two royal sisters realizing that the love of family is the most powerful kind of love. And the queen puts to rest the idea that it’s sane to marry a man you met two seconds ago. But even with these plot points, some people still felt disappointed with the movie. “Does it have to be a princess?” asked the host of NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour. Incidentally, I’ve listened to a lot of interviews where various television and movie writers talk about being plagued with this kind of question by studio executives. Does it have to be this? What if instead of x, we have y? It’s a frustrating question for writers, because of a simple fact: whether or not the alternatives are good, it’s not what the writer is trying to say. The actor Nathan Fillion, who told Chris Hardwick of The Nerdist about writing a pilot that didn’t go anywhere, summed it up as this: “You can go write that script yourself, but for now, why don’t we just talk about mine?” But let’s consider that Frozen question for a minute. Would the stakes be as high if Elsa had ice powers and wasn’t responsible for ruling a kingdom? Would anyone listen to Anna when she said her sister wasn’t dangerous if Anna herself wasn’t a royal? If Elsa’s powers are at their most uncontrollable when she’s under stress, then wouldn’t it be easy to control if she didn’t have the pressure to appear normal in front of her subjects? The fact is Disney made their name with fairytales. A princess started the dynasty of Disney animated features, and a princess revived the company when it was foundering. Does it have to be a princess? I suppose not. But that’s not the story Disney wants to tell.
For The Stories 