If you’re over the age of 14, and you have had some exposure to American culture, you’re probably very familiar with Disney. And by Disney, I don’t mean Walt- I mean the empire he created.
Disney has impacted my life in many ways- I mean, who wasn’t obsessed with at least one Disney movie growing up? Beauty and the Beast, Toy Story, Bambi, The Fox and the Hound- the list goes on and on. But I am 100% certain, there is at least one Disney movie that you have some crazy, emotional bond to. For me, it’s Toy Story and Pocahontas.
Okay, so you probably owned your favorite Disney movie on VHS, right? You watched it over and over again until the player ate the tape and you cried about it but your grandpa was able to fix it. But then your family moved over to a DVD player and you were no longer able to spend afternoons watching The Little Mermaid on loop. So you were forced to move on to bigger and greater things. Like, Anchorman. Or something.
Did you happen to notice at the same time as your DVD conversion Disney introduced a brilliant marketing scheme that also marked the end of our childhood? You know what I’m talking about.
The Vault.
Disney thought it would be a great idea to lock up all of your favorite classics in The Vault- located where Mickey’s soul should be. The Vault is basically this super secret location that holds all of our all-time favorites safe and sound. But there’s a catch. They’re only released 2 at a time. In what feels like 10 year intervals.
It’s the bane of my existence. I’ve recently contemplated Occupying The Vault.
So, Disney does this whole Vault thing. Locking away our childhood so incredibly far out of reach. And what are we left with? Old, eaten up video tape copies of Alice in Wonderland.
It’s as though Disney forced us into our awkward adolescence. Forcing us to watch rented copies of crappy PG-13 comedies instead of enjoying the golden laughter that comes from a fabulous Disney adventure.
We had to leave a bit of ourselves behind, locked up in The Vault. Out of our reach, aside from a brief emergence every few years or even longer.
So, Disney Empire, I blame you for my awkward teenage years that haven’t ended yet. I’m calling you out for ending my childhood prematurely. Not only have you given me false ideas about what my hair should look like, or how men will treat me, but you also ended my childhood years before they should have been over. I blame you for forcing my adolescence and forcing me into a semi-adulthood that sucks.
But I’m not bitter about it, or anything.