If you ask the Boy Scouts of America, being gay is the sexual identity equivalent of pooping your pants. It's fine for a child, but when a boy becomes a man, a man cannot be having that shit anymore. A boy can love a boy, but a man can't love a man.
Bypassing the pissing and moaning of parents who want to yank their children from the BSA (soon to be renamed The Great All-American Gay Porn Hub), the leaders of one of the largest youth organizations in one of the greatest countries in the world, in 2013 I might add, are squatting on their hopelessly dated policy of banning openly gay adults from serving as leaders, and they are not budging their tight, white, wrinkled, Conservative-cash-loving asses on that one.
Gay youth are being double-damned on this policy, because while their inclusion gives lip-service to a spirit of acceptance and progress, the gaping hole where their gay role models within the organization should be are empty. And that void is not silent. It's filled with the omnipresent threats of anti-gay organizations to pull funding because the very acknowledgment of gay individuals is an affront. It is filled with the constant shitstorm of media controversy that gay people find themselves at the center of simply by being open about who they are. The void is tacit compliance on the part of BSA's leaders to invite gay youth into the organization to be isolated, marginalized, and bullied on a public stage.
And yet, the BSA's historic vote today, the marginal good, the extensive bad, the exceedingly ugly, is progress. Those who advocate an end to the ban against gay people in it's entirety point out that gay boys grow up to become gay men--and they are entirely right. It's easy for the BSA to turn away leaders who are TEH GAY, that massive, faceless entity that they've conditioned themselves to believe impugn the masculinity and morality that the BSA strives to uphold. In ten years, when the openly gay youth who are admitted to the scouts next year apply for leadership positions, they will be Brian, and Andrew, and Steve, the highly decorated and able scouts looked up to by their younger troop mates. And it will be much harder to turn them away after a decade of service to the organization.
The BSA ban on gay leaders is still discrimination in all its ugly, ignorant glory, but the number of people being discriminated against is dwindling. We pause to acknowledge that victory, and then we fight on until that number is a fat, happy zero. The gay youth (and adults) of America are counting on it. The straight youth are, as well. When gay men and women are held up as leaders, based on their intelligence, compassion, and general decency, all kids learn that sexuality is a baseless reason to eschew anyone. It's a lesson worth learning, and a goal worth pursuing.
And today, we are one step closer.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Dude Days Are (Never) Over
If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you are very familiar with the furry face pictured above. My dog Dude took up about 90% of my pictures because My God, look at that cute wittle face! Sadly that face is only in pictures now, because my precious little boy died on February 16th at the age of twelve, because one of the cruel realities of the universe is that pets don't live as long as their people. One of the few blessings in all this is that he died both suddenly and peacefully, with no pain, in his home with the family he loved, that loved him with all their hearts.
I was fifteen when we got Dude, Christmas Eve of 2000. LittleSis was twelve and BabySis was eight. If you have sisters, or daughters for that matter, you'll know that three girls of those ages under one roof are generally hellbent on each others' destruction at the exclusion of all else. But it was very fairly agreed that Dude could unite us, make us playful, fun, and kind to each other, because he wanted to play with all his sisters at once, dammit, and His Royal Furriness always got his way! (The baby of the family always does).
He was actually a giant pain in the ass.
From puppyhood on up, he never learned the difference between outside barking and inside barking. He could show off his "inside voice", sure, but only if he had absolute certainty that there was a treat in it for him. Otherwise, doorbells, conversations between people in two different rooms, construction work going on in the neighborhood, fireworks, the flutter of a butterfly's wings in China, all were met with a healthy (loud) dose of barking, courtesy of The Dude (His full first name. Not inspired by The Big Lebowski. Just want to make that clear.)
He also chewed shoes when he got pissed off at whomever owned whatever pair he was chomping on. He had a particular and uncanny habit of always choosing the left of any pair, because the vindictive little fur face wasn't content to just ruin a pair of shoes altogether when he could taunt us with a right shoe that was both perfectly serviceable yet utterly useless.
Finally, Dude was, and I say this with utter gravitas and no hint of hyperbole, the biggest chickenshit alive. Hiccups, sneezes, burps, thunder, other dogs, small woodland creatures (yes, even bunnies)? All terrifying to our little boy, and he would bolt from wherever they were with a speed that athletes shrink their testicles to achieve. Once, I got the hiccups while taking him on one of his beloved walks and he wrestled himself out of his collar to get away from the horror of it all.
Somehow, none of this takes away from the fact that he was the best dog in the world. There's nothing quite like coming home after a long, painful day of work to a flurry of jumping, puppy kisses, and barking that translates to ohwowi'msohappytoseeyouyou'remyfavoritepersoninthewholebigworldiloveyouyousmellexcitingletmesniffyoupetmelookmytail'swaggingaren'ticuteyou'rethebestpersoneverdidimentioniloveyou (The translation is accurate, I spoke fluent Dude).
Despite being all of thirty pounds when soaking wet, and, as previously mentioned, a total chickenshit, Dude possessed total assurance that the house was not safe until he'd done a thorough patrol and personally seen to it that everyone was safely tucked into their beds. When LittleSis moved out, he would stalk the upstairs hallway all night, every night, until he visited her apartment and understood that his human lived here now and all was once again right with the world. He would still be awake if BabySis or I went out until the early hours of the morning, and greet us with a thumping tail and sleepy kisses, bearing no grudge that we'd kept him up all night.
He instinctively knew when we were grieving or stressed. He sought out my parents, my sisters, and myself when we cried and curled up next to us, laying a silent head on our laps and gazing up at us with his loving brown eyes until we felt better. He even tolerated our cuddles when we needed some puppy time, a big sacrifice on his part. Dude usually took a very catlike attitude towards physical affection, only acceptable on his terms, although petting was always welcomed--sometimes encouraged by a sleek head burrowing under a stationary hand for a stroke between the ears.
He was completely in love with a live audience, prancing out in the middle of the room to chase his own tail whenever people had the temerity to be in his house without paying attention to him. He also pawed at our legs if we weren't giving him a baby talk speech about how cute he was and what a special, wonderful, perfect little boy he was. Luckily for us, the one regret none of us could ever possibly have is the idea that we took him for granted. No day was complete without playing with, petting, and gushing over our sweet, beloved, admittedly spoiled little boy.
Anyone who has never loved a pet might be completely unaware how incredibly human they can be, full of distinct personalities and quirks. Although Dude might be the only dog in history who wasn't a dog person, he was also one of the only dogs to capture the hearts of people who flat out do not like dogs, or even animals in general. He made our family complete, and now we are missing my parents' son and our baby brother.
So here's to Dude. We had him for twelve years, we will love him for all our lifetimes.
The Dude
October 16, 2000-February 16, 2013
Perfect love, wrapped in fur
Monday, December 24, 2012
Merry Christmas!
Bad things happened this year. Most recently, 27 families lost Christmases and birthdays for now and the rest of their lives with loved ones who were far too young, and died in a manner far too violent. Tomorrow, which is already today for some of my readers, I will spend eight hours at work with people who can't spend Christmas with their families this year.
And then I'll go home, and spend the day with my family, eating my dad's amazing Beef Stroganoff and laughing together. I'll hear the voices of my friends on the other end of the phone when I call to wish them a Merry Christmas. Sunday night was the first of several mini-celebrations I'll share with various loved ones. And that is no small thing. Good things happened this year, to me, and to the world, and the existence of bad things cannot change that.
Christmas comes at the end of the year. This time next week we'll be wrapped in the excitement of New Year's, which will soon segue into the romance of Valentine's Day, the bawdy cheer of St. Patrick's Day, Easter and the awakening of spring, the hot, sticky, beach and barbecue days of summer, the excitement of fall, the thrills of Halloween, the warmth of Thanksgiving, and back again to Christmas. It's a constant in a world of unreliables. This year it even conquered the apocalypse.
So this year, and every year, to one and all, honor your losses, embrace your memories, kiss your loved ones, and revel in the good cheer of the season.
Merry Christmas.
And then I'll go home, and spend the day with my family, eating my dad's amazing Beef Stroganoff and laughing together. I'll hear the voices of my friends on the other end of the phone when I call to wish them a Merry Christmas. Sunday night was the first of several mini-celebrations I'll share with various loved ones. And that is no small thing. Good things happened this year, to me, and to the world, and the existence of bad things cannot change that.
Christmas comes at the end of the year. This time next week we'll be wrapped in the excitement of New Year's, which will soon segue into the romance of Valentine's Day, the bawdy cheer of St. Patrick's Day, Easter and the awakening of spring, the hot, sticky, beach and barbecue days of summer, the excitement of fall, the thrills of Halloween, the warmth of Thanksgiving, and back again to Christmas. It's a constant in a world of unreliables. This year it even conquered the apocalypse.
So this year, and every year, to one and all, honor your losses, embrace your memories, kiss your loved ones, and revel in the good cheer of the season.
Merry Christmas.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Gilmore Girls > Philadelphia Football
Today I was folding laundry while watching a trifecta of Gilmore Girls reruns, because I'm glamourous like that, when my dad happened upon me in between the innings/quarters/periods/eras of the Eagles vs. Whoever Beat the Eagles This Time game. I don't know from sports, but I do know that Andy Reid has done the same thing to the team this season as he's done to his cardiovascular system over his lifetime. In fact, I'm fairly certain that there's a secret city statute that forces my parents to watch the game week after frustrating week during the season upon penalty of giving our dog away to Michael Vick. It's the only reason I can ascertain as to why they would force themselves through such miserable disappointment from September (probably?) to January (I think?).
We wouldn't risk Dude for anything.
In any case, my dad wanted to know why I was watching an episode (or three), that I'd already seen, in his estimation, eighty four thousand times before.
He suffers from a mild case of exaggeration.
And the reason I was watching Gilmore Girls for the eighty four thousandth time was that, in addition to the fact that there's precious little available on a Sunday afternoon in December that is both new to me and at all interesting to watch, and isn't the Eagles, is that Gilmore Girls starts when it says it will, ends when it says it will, and reliably, Lorelai will be snarky, Rory will make oblique pop culture references, the boys will be cute if somewhat milquetoast, Sookie will knock something over, and the coffee will be consumed in greater quantities than Starbucks does annually. I get exactly what I want, and I won't be screaming or throwing pillows at the tv at the end of it all.
Suck it, Reid.
We wouldn't risk Dude for anything.
In any case, my dad wanted to know why I was watching an episode (or three), that I'd already seen, in his estimation, eighty four thousand times before.
He suffers from a mild case of exaggeration.
And the reason I was watching Gilmore Girls for the eighty four thousandth time was that, in addition to the fact that there's precious little available on a Sunday afternoon in December that is both new to me and at all interesting to watch, and isn't the Eagles, is that Gilmore Girls starts when it says it will, ends when it says it will, and reliably, Lorelai will be snarky, Rory will make oblique pop culture references, the boys will be cute if somewhat milquetoast, Sookie will knock something over, and the coffee will be consumed in greater quantities than Starbucks does annually. I get exactly what I want, and I won't be screaming or throwing pillows at the tv at the end of it all.
Suck it, Reid.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
It's Today
I live in fear of the phrase "Back in my day,". Not because I have a secret terror of hearing a nostalgia laced story that I've almost certainly heard before, but because of what the phrase represents. Unlike its cousins "When I was a kid," "When I was in college," "Back when my kids were little," the phrase is some amorphous indicator of a bygone time when the speaker felt relevant--and a sure sign that they no longer feel so.
At some point, people seem to feel that they are guests in a world that no longer belongs to them. Some feel it after some random age that they've ascribed for themselves--30 used to be the popular choice, although it's been recently taken over by 40. Others feel it when they have kids or grandkids. Still others walk past the display of People and US Weekly, fail to recognize anyone on the cover, and decide that they've passed the point of the target audience, and therefore, have seceded their "day".
When you relegate your "day" to the past, you're letting go of the world. If the "day" belongs to someone else, it means you know longer are an active participant in the world. You're as much a relic as the giant statue of Ben in the Franklin Institute, nothing more than a slightly chattier testament to history.
Here's the true story though: Today is your day. If you are alive to read this, then you are as relevant as you choose to be. Deciding to cut ties with the events and technologies of the world is relegating yourself to a supporting role at best. Human beings get a measly amount of time for a "day" before we go into that good night, so there's no point on embracing the sunset before we have to. Fight to be a part of the world today.
Because it's yours.
At some point, people seem to feel that they are guests in a world that no longer belongs to them. Some feel it after some random age that they've ascribed for themselves--30 used to be the popular choice, although it's been recently taken over by 40. Others feel it when they have kids or grandkids. Still others walk past the display of People and US Weekly, fail to recognize anyone on the cover, and decide that they've passed the point of the target audience, and therefore, have seceded their "day".
When you relegate your "day" to the past, you're letting go of the world. If the "day" belongs to someone else, it means you know longer are an active participant in the world. You're as much a relic as the giant statue of Ben in the Franklin Institute, nothing more than a slightly chattier testament to history.
Here's the true story though: Today is your day. If you are alive to read this, then you are as relevant as you choose to be. Deciding to cut ties with the events and technologies of the world is relegating yourself to a supporting role at best. Human beings get a measly amount of time for a "day" before we go into that good night, so there's no point on embracing the sunset before we have to. Fight to be a part of the world today.
Because it's yours.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Pants and Masculinity
Today, I was innocently wasting several hours of my time on Pinterest as a reward for not out and out murdering my family, when I had the misfortune of beholding this:
Once Upon a Time, Men Wore Pants
There is so much wrong with this ad that I've decided to address it in four points:
1. I don't believe in a feminist fairy tale where the world would be a utopia if women had been in charge. The closest humanity will ever come to the best version of ourselves is when there is an equal distribution of opportunity, and people contribute to society in the way that suits their individual talents and desires, heavy emphasis on the INDIVIDUAL. That said, this mystical time has not ever happened, and despite the sorry state of current affairs, this is as close as we, the human race, has ever been. Whoever created this ad, nostalgic for days when men were in charge, must also admit that the worst of humanity: the invention of the atomic bomb, pollution, slavery, the Holocaust, witch hunts, et al, all happened when everyone sitting in the hot seat was also sporting wood. So whomever created/agrees with this ad can have all the credit of chivalry and progress if and only if they're willing to take the blame for all the bad stuff.
2. If eating a salad or drinking a latte is corrupting your masculinity, you don't have enough masculinity to bother mentioning it at all. A real man is not threatened by the equality of women, a real man does not dwell in the fictional past, and a real man is not impugned by his beverage.
3. Opening the damn door does not make you a hero. It cures no disease, eases no worry, halts no war. Let go of the idea that a polite gesture should net you a medal and a parade. Women have always been able to open their own damn doors. It's not that hard. Aim higher if you want the title of hero. The men AND women of our armed forces are heroes. Our police, our firefighters, our EMTs are heroes. Our nurses and doctors are heroes. Teachers and librarians are heroes. Parents who make the tough calls and actually discipline their kids are heroes. The world is not in short supply for heroes.
This is the most important point of all, which is why I've saved it for last:
4. NO ONE TOOK YOUR FUCKING PANTS! We simply noticed that your pants were nice, and allowed for greater freedom of movement, and thought, Hey! We want some. Women are wearing our own pants (which are cuter, and have a greater variety of styles, for the record). Nobody took men's pants away. Nobody left them locked in the kitchen shivering and naked from the waist down. Pants have not gone anywhere. Men have not gone anywhere. Real men have been here all along, eating steak and salad, drinking beer and lattes, being partners and friends to each other and to women. While the milquetoast and mundane men have been ballyhooing that the era that truly appreciated them is long past and baying for its return, real men have been growing and learning the whole time.
And they kept their pants.
Once Upon a Time, Men Wore Pants
There is so much wrong with this ad that I've decided to address it in four points:
1. I don't believe in a feminist fairy tale where the world would be a utopia if women had been in charge. The closest humanity will ever come to the best version of ourselves is when there is an equal distribution of opportunity, and people contribute to society in the way that suits their individual talents and desires, heavy emphasis on the INDIVIDUAL. That said, this mystical time has not ever happened, and despite the sorry state of current affairs, this is as close as we, the human race, has ever been. Whoever created this ad, nostalgic for days when men were in charge, must also admit that the worst of humanity: the invention of the atomic bomb, pollution, slavery, the Holocaust, witch hunts, et al, all happened when everyone sitting in the hot seat was also sporting wood. So whomever created/agrees with this ad can have all the credit of chivalry and progress if and only if they're willing to take the blame for all the bad stuff.
2. If eating a salad or drinking a latte is corrupting your masculinity, you don't have enough masculinity to bother mentioning it at all. A real man is not threatened by the equality of women, a real man does not dwell in the fictional past, and a real man is not impugned by his beverage.
3. Opening the damn door does not make you a hero. It cures no disease, eases no worry, halts no war. Let go of the idea that a polite gesture should net you a medal and a parade. Women have always been able to open their own damn doors. It's not that hard. Aim higher if you want the title of hero. The men AND women of our armed forces are heroes. Our police, our firefighters, our EMTs are heroes. Our nurses and doctors are heroes. Teachers and librarians are heroes. Parents who make the tough calls and actually discipline their kids are heroes. The world is not in short supply for heroes.
This is the most important point of all, which is why I've saved it for last:
4. NO ONE TOOK YOUR FUCKING PANTS! We simply noticed that your pants were nice, and allowed for greater freedom of movement, and thought, Hey! We want some. Women are wearing our own pants (which are cuter, and have a greater variety of styles, for the record). Nobody took men's pants away. Nobody left them locked in the kitchen shivering and naked from the waist down. Pants have not gone anywhere. Men have not gone anywhere. Real men have been here all along, eating steak and salad, drinking beer and lattes, being partners and friends to each other and to women. While the milquetoast and mundane men have been ballyhooing that the era that truly appreciated them is long past and baying for its return, real men have been growing and learning the whole time.
And they kept their pants.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Four Anti-Feminist Disney Princesses....and Why They Deserve a Break
Modern audiences have advocated feisty, role-model worthy female protagonists for films directed at little girls, citing
the Disney Classic Princess canon as examples of female passivity on film, exacerbating being pretty, getting married,
and waiting for a prince to rescue them from their admittedly crappy lives as worthy female goals. Starting with Beauty and the Beast in 1991, the female heroines of Disney films became more proactive, with Belle assisting in her own
rescue, followed by Jasmine doing the same in 1992's Aladdin, Pocahontas (1995) and Mulan (1998), where the
heroines serve as the actual action girls, rounding out with Tianna (The Princess and the Frog, 2009), Rapunzel
(Tangled, 2010), and Pixar's Merida (Brave, 2012) being the most active, fully-rounded characters in the pantheon of
Disney heroines. However, the trend starters for Disney's Princess films were stronger and more vivacious characters
than modern audiences give them credit for, and deserve some recognition for their more admirable qualities:
1. Aurora (Sleeping Beauty, 1959)
Sleeping Beauty is criticized most often for "First Guy Wins", in that, having been rescued from the evil sorceress/ dragon Maleficent by Prince Phillipe, Princess Aurora marries him, despite the fact that he's a total stranger and perpetuates the idea that women are prizes earned for acts of bravery.
Why She Deserves a Break
Phillip isn't a total stranger to Aurora. Back when she was still known as Briar Rose, he showed up in the forest while she was waxing poetic about the prospect of meeting a prince and falling in love, and the two of them had a brief flirtation:
Once Upon A Dream
Granted, it's no leading an army or single-handedly defeating the Big Bad, but at least Aurora was in puppy love for the guy, which is a sight better than the original fairy tale, wherein the prince wins the princess just for the kiss, her feelings be damned. Aurora and Phillip are also betrothed to marry anyway, to unite their kingdoms, which again seems way too close to the idea of "Free Princess with Purchase" before acknowledging that Phillip is also being used as a political pawn, and has to marry her regardless of his feelings on the subject. He has to work for it too, as Sleeping Beauty apparently doesn't deem a kiss as sufficiently heroic and requires that Phillip be imprisoned, fight through a thorn maze, and slay a dragon, which at least has him do more to earn his happy ending than his spiritual predecessor Prince NoName from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Speaking of...
2. Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937)
Poor Snow White. It really is a curse to be so beautiful. Her stepmother is all set to kill her over her delicate, unwrinkled features, leaving her running for her life in the harsh wilderness of an untamed forest in an imminently impractical ball gown. The huntsman does spare her life because she's so pretty, which must be why she's so cheerfully singing with woodland creatures while she does free menial labor for a house full of strange men, because women, if they're not making babies, are only good for cooking and cleaning.
Why She Deserves a Break
First of all, it's not free menial labor. She's paying for room and board using her specific skill set, which given that she's royalty, it's amazing she has even basic cleaning skills. Plus, take a look at the dwarves' cottage:
Whistle While You Work
That place is NASTY! She's not rearranging a stack of books and putting away laundry, she's making a sticky, unhygienic hole into a livable, healthy home. That's a basic survival skill, finding or creating a serviceable shelter when you're lost. And, she's assembled a workforce, dictating tasks according to each animal's abilities and showcasing impressive managerial skills, which is more than can be said for another princess who talks to animals...
3. Cinderella (Cinderella, 1950)
1. Aurora (Sleeping Beauty, 1959)
Sleeping Beauty is criticized most often for "First Guy Wins", in that, having been rescued from the evil sorceress/ dragon Maleficent by Prince Phillipe, Princess Aurora marries him, despite the fact that he's a total stranger and perpetuates the idea that women are prizes earned for acts of bravery.
Why She Deserves a Break
Phillip isn't a total stranger to Aurora. Back when she was still known as Briar Rose, he showed up in the forest while she was waxing poetic about the prospect of meeting a prince and falling in love, and the two of them had a brief flirtation:
Once Upon A Dream
Granted, it's no leading an army or single-handedly defeating the Big Bad, but at least Aurora was in puppy love for the guy, which is a sight better than the original fairy tale, wherein the prince wins the princess just for the kiss, her feelings be damned. Aurora and Phillip are also betrothed to marry anyway, to unite their kingdoms, which again seems way too close to the idea of "Free Princess with Purchase" before acknowledging that Phillip is also being used as a political pawn, and has to marry her regardless of his feelings on the subject. He has to work for it too, as Sleeping Beauty apparently doesn't deem a kiss as sufficiently heroic and requires that Phillip be imprisoned, fight through a thorn maze, and slay a dragon, which at least has him do more to earn his happy ending than his spiritual predecessor Prince NoName from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Speaking of...
2. Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937)
Poor Snow White. It really is a curse to be so beautiful. Her stepmother is all set to kill her over her delicate, unwrinkled features, leaving her running for her life in the harsh wilderness of an untamed forest in an imminently impractical ball gown. The huntsman does spare her life because she's so pretty, which must be why she's so cheerfully singing with woodland creatures while she does free menial labor for a house full of strange men, because women, if they're not making babies, are only good for cooking and cleaning.
Why She Deserves a Break
First of all, it's not free menial labor. She's paying for room and board using her specific skill set, which given that she's royalty, it's amazing she has even basic cleaning skills. Plus, take a look at the dwarves' cottage:
Whistle While You Work
That place is NASTY! She's not rearranging a stack of books and putting away laundry, she's making a sticky, unhygienic hole into a livable, healthy home. That's a basic survival skill, finding or creating a serviceable shelter when you're lost. And, she's assembled a workforce, dictating tasks according to each animal's abilities and showcasing impressive managerial skills, which is more than can be said for another princess who talks to animals...
3. Cinderella (Cinderella, 1950)
Cinderella has no ambitions except one night of fancy fun at the prince's ball. It's the only thing she looks forward to in
her life, and she will gladly work as a slave in her own home without benefit of a decent bed or food just for the
possibility of attending. Yank away that one shining dream, and be prepared for her to....accept defeat tearfully but
quietly. Cinderella does literally nothing for herself. Without the intervention of her fairy godmother and her animal
friends, she wouldn't have even had the chance at the ball she so desperately wants to attend, and only the prince getting
smitten over her rescues her from a life of drudgery, which apart from that one night, she never even aspired to escape.
Why She Deserves a Break
Cinderella is basically a victim of psychological abuse. She's completely at the mercy of her stepmother, and has been since the death of her father when she was very young. She works as a slave in her own household (watch Downton Abbey sometime to get a scope of how many people are needed to clean and maintain a house that size. The movie makes it clear that, with the exception of mice and birds, Cinderella is taking on that load herself), and has no ambition for freedom and escape because it's the only life she knows. And despite outward appearances, Cinderella is no candy- coated personification of sugar-sweetness:
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
Pay attention to the lyrics. She's clearly miserable about her lot in life, but so dejected and beaten down that the fight has gone out of her, and her dreams are all she has to keep her on the healthy side of sane. Having a fanciful dream to fantasize about is her coping mechanism, a device employed by abuse victims the world over. It's hard to aspire to great things when getting through the day is a monumental physical and mental chore. She should be applauded for getting out of bed every day in her position, unlike other heroines who have a stronger foundation for ambition...
4. Ariel (The Little Mermaid, 1989)
The youngest daughter of the Sea King has all the powers and privileges of the ruling family of the ocean, giving up her culture, power, exploratory freedom, and species to join an alien world to be with a man who loves her so much he can't tell the difference between her and a nominally similar looking sorceress who doesn't even have the same hair color. In the ocean, she's even free to pursue research on a foreign creature, with the caveat that she not directly fraternize with the seemingly dangerous subject of her study, a privilege that is rescinded when she breaks that rule. On land, she can't talk and she brushes her hair with a fork, showing once again that having a man is paramount.
Why She Deserves a Break
Ariel is truthfully the bravest princess in the Disney pantheon. The movie makes it clear that her fascination with human culture predates the events of the film, and she is the most knowledgable merperson on the subject of humanity's qualities, for good and ill. She has the bravery to defy her father specifically because she knows better what the dangers of being near humans are. She wanted to join the human world before she even met Prince Eric:
Part of Your World
She's intellectually and scientifically curious about events and ephemera that she simply cannot experience under water. Further, she doesn't actually attempt to join humanity until her father destroys all of her artifacts, research, and laboratory, giving her the option to "go native", or forever give up her dream to understand the human world. Given the opportunity to do hands on research, she was willing to physically maim herself to achieve her goal. Jane Goodall would consider her a badass, without even factoring in the idea that her pioneering mission to join humanity was a radical step towards eradicating racism between merfolk and people, and broadening the horizons of both groups. Ariel is not a fantasy princess, but a political one.
Why She Deserves a Break
Cinderella is basically a victim of psychological abuse. She's completely at the mercy of her stepmother, and has been since the death of her father when she was very young. She works as a slave in her own household (watch Downton Abbey sometime to get a scope of how many people are needed to clean and maintain a house that size. The movie makes it clear that, with the exception of mice and birds, Cinderella is taking on that load herself), and has no ambition for freedom and escape because it's the only life she knows. And despite outward appearances, Cinderella is no candy- coated personification of sugar-sweetness:
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
Pay attention to the lyrics. She's clearly miserable about her lot in life, but so dejected and beaten down that the fight has gone out of her, and her dreams are all she has to keep her on the healthy side of sane. Having a fanciful dream to fantasize about is her coping mechanism, a device employed by abuse victims the world over. It's hard to aspire to great things when getting through the day is a monumental physical and mental chore. She should be applauded for getting out of bed every day in her position, unlike other heroines who have a stronger foundation for ambition...
4. Ariel (The Little Mermaid, 1989)
The youngest daughter of the Sea King has all the powers and privileges of the ruling family of the ocean, giving up her culture, power, exploratory freedom, and species to join an alien world to be with a man who loves her so much he can't tell the difference between her and a nominally similar looking sorceress who doesn't even have the same hair color. In the ocean, she's even free to pursue research on a foreign creature, with the caveat that she not directly fraternize with the seemingly dangerous subject of her study, a privilege that is rescinded when she breaks that rule. On land, she can't talk and she brushes her hair with a fork, showing once again that having a man is paramount.
Why She Deserves a Break
Ariel is truthfully the bravest princess in the Disney pantheon. The movie makes it clear that her fascination with human culture predates the events of the film, and she is the most knowledgable merperson on the subject of humanity's qualities, for good and ill. She has the bravery to defy her father specifically because she knows better what the dangers of being near humans are. She wanted to join the human world before she even met Prince Eric:
Part of Your World
She's intellectually and scientifically curious about events and ephemera that she simply cannot experience under water. Further, she doesn't actually attempt to join humanity until her father destroys all of her artifacts, research, and laboratory, giving her the option to "go native", or forever give up her dream to understand the human world. Given the opportunity to do hands on research, she was willing to physically maim herself to achieve her goal. Jane Goodall would consider her a badass, without even factoring in the idea that her pioneering mission to join humanity was a radical step towards eradicating racism between merfolk and people, and broadening the horizons of both groups. Ariel is not a fantasy princess, but a political one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)