My distaste for the classic Disney princess franchise developed from a single incident when I returned to the fabled Walt Disney World as a junior in high school. My club field hockey team competed in a recruiting tournament at Disney’s ESPN Wide World of Sports. Exhausted from hours of playing in the February Florida sun (as a Philly native, I was unaccustomed to the climate for the middle of winter), my mom and I agreed to peruse Downtown Disney one evening instead of the amusement parks.
The night centered around one request: to purchase a Mulan souvenir. As a half-Chinese, imaginative and fiery child, I idolized Mulan. My parents even nicknamed me after the maiden-turned-warrior: the woman revered as a hero of China despite her gender. Mulan depicted a woman of color surpassing a culture tainted with bigotry, an example of the relentless attitude I wanted to assume in my own life. She reminded me of the strict Chinese-American culture my first/second generation Chinese-American mother experienced in her childhood in Pitman, New Jersey; the racism she endured; and her stoicism and selflessness despite these impositions.
My steps brimmed with anticipation on the “magical” brick paths of Downtown Disney. There, resurrected in architectural finesse, rose the mystical store in which I intended to purchase my prize championing my woman-ism and mixed race. I strode towards the section of Disney princess merchandise. The shelves showcased Aurora, Arielle, Belle, Snow White, Cinderella… but no Mulan. I flagged down a woman with a blue employee shirt on.
“Excuse me, can you direct me to the Mulan merchandise?” I asked.
A sympathetic half smile curved her lips. “I’m sorry, but we don’t carry Mulan merchandise here. Mulan merchandise is sold in the Chinese portion of EPCOT!”
The woman’s words, however delicately spoken, whipped me. I left the store and cried to my mom on the drive back to the hotel. This instance surmounted any tantrum over toys. This regarded the absence of powerful ethnic characters in children’s movies: a realization stemming from the hours of white princesses I watched with wonder as a child. No one fantasized about meeting Jasmine, Pocahontas, or Mulan in Disney World; young girls reserved their fanaticism for Belle, Aurora, and the other white princesses.
Other minority children experienced this dissimilation from their cultures. We romanticized the white princesses. We fashioned crowns from gold construction paper, plastic bracelets jangling on our wrists. We received white princess costumes for birthdays and Halloween. We pointed to images in books, proclaiming that, we too, eventually would marry an affluent and well-dressed prince. Who did Hispanic children admire? Who did black children plead with their parents to meet? Who did multi-racial children, like me, read fairytales about?
Despite the faults of the classic Disney princesses, Pixar and Disney now both observe the shifting racial dynamics in our country. Movies like The Princess and the Frog and Moana depict women of varying socioeconomic backgrounds, races, and cultures.
The standard for beauty and character must not be placed upon a singular vision. Beauty and character radiate from all religions, races, genders, sexualities, and countries: and we must allow fiction to reflect reality.