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Malice in Wonderland

“All right, I gotta admit, I like the rides. ‘It’s a Small World’ is my favorite. I like the clicking little dolls that remind me of “Barbarella”.”

Ok, so I’m going out on a limb here, and odds are the dwarves aren’t going to be too happy about it. But hey, I’m past sixteen, I don’t have blonde hair, my daddy isn’t a king and I can’t sing to save my life. I’ve given up on prince charming and I now set out mice traps. So be it. I bought into the Disney mystique and it let me down. I should’ve known. Cinderella wasn’t overweight, Sleeping Beauty didn’t wear glasses, and damned if Belle ever had p.m.s. What’s a normal girl to do? Certainly not star in a Disney flick…

Am I bitter? Nah. Sure, I hum “Someday My Prince Will Come” at the local dive bar but I know better. The real world isn’t all shiny happy white people with dysfunctional families and sadistic tendencies. No one in his or her right mind picks up a bottle labeled “Drink Me” and actually drinks it unless they are at a weird LA rave. And the only flying elephant I’ve ever seen was after a wild night on shrooms. So why is Disney so damn popular? Why does every kid under the age of nine scream at their parents for the latest Disney toy? Why are half the trick-or-treaters dressed as the latest Disney damsel? And why do I still deep in my heart believe maybe, just maybe, prince charming might just ride up on a white horse and carry me away from all this? Damn you, Walt Disney!

Tell you what. Let’s explore Disney together. Raise your hands if you’ve been to any of the quintillion Disney theme parks. My favorite is Disneyland. I have a wild sexual fantasy about the Sasquatch on the Matterhorn - but that’s another story. Isn’t Disneyland fun? Look at all the shiny happy people working hard to make your stay more enjoyable. See how they smile as they collect the five bucks for a soda pop in a Disney collectable mug. Watch out for the mother of four with the stroller who’s about to mow you down in her haste to get one person in line ahead of you for the teacup ride.

All right, I gotta admit, I like the rides. “It’s a Small World” is my favorite. I like the clicking little dolls that remind me of “Barbarella”. Notice how they all look exactly the same, only the skin tones are different. Bright shiny little monsters, aren’t they? Ooh, and that song. Over and over again. Ride operators are trained to stop the boats exactly one minute from the end of the ride so that the passengers can listen to the chorus another eight times. Kind of makes you feel warm and smooshy inside. Or maybe that’s the heavy breather they forced you to sit next to. Who cares? It’s Disney, and everything is good in Disneyland.

Wahoo! Parade time. A bunch of teenagers in wigs with face makeup and paint depicting… Indians? Really? Pocahontas didn’t tuck all of the blonde under her wig but damn she can dance so who cares? And here comes that strapping blonde hunk John Smith. What would poor Pokey have done if his ship had not come in? She’d have been stuck in her native land with her people and would never have had a chance to be assimilated into cultured society. Thank god for the white guy.

Next up on the parade route is last year’s summer blockbuster, the hunchback. Poor guy. Don’t be different, unless you plan on saving the girl. And what a girl she is, all tits and big hair, and she won’t give a shit that you went all out to save her. She wants the hunk, and who can blame her? He’s a blonde!

Now sure, Disney has its share of brunettes and dark-haired guys. Can’t really have an Arabian knight with a blonde shag, right? Or a bad guy… Walt, are you stereotyping here? You wouldn’t be implying… nah, you wouldn’t. Would you? Come to think of it, the ugly stepsisters are brunettes too. But wait, Snow White. Whew. I was getting a little worried here.

Wait. I’m worried again. Snow White runs away to the forest, moves in with seven little men and takes over. She’s enough of a tough cookie to knock even old Grumpy in line but not smart enough to avoid the apple. Thank god for the prince with a passion for necrophilia. If it wasn’t for him she’d still be lying under that sheet of glass. What a message to send to the kiddies.

Here’s another one: a parent habitually abuses girl. Girl talks to animals and is convinced they talk back. Girl dreams up a wild night where the animals come to her rescue and she meets a prince. The girl is rescued by her dainty little feet and a glass slipper. Prince makes everything ok. Thank god she was blonde.

Now Belle was a brunette, and she sure had a hard time. For Christ’s sake, she liked to read! Look what it gets her, locked up in a dreary old castle with a beast. Now if she hadn’t defied her father she would have been ok, but that’s beside the point. The beast grows gentle and they develop a nice relationship. Things are looking up until… she breaks her promise and leaves him. Beastie is attacked by the villagers and almost dies but her magical love revives him and he becomes a true prince. Her reward? Marriage, of course. Get in your parents face, kids, and lie too, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a prince.

Next up on the whacked out morals list is my girl Jasmine. She’s a runaway too, with a bumbling, fat old fool for a father. (He is not to be confused with Belle’s bumbling, fat old fool of a father, or the many other coincidentally bumbling, fat old fools in Disney films). Jasmine’s first venture in the outside world starts off with her trying to steal from a vendor’s cart. Boom, in comes Aladdin to save her with the “forgive her, she’s a loony” ploy. What does Aladdin get for his good deed? Jail-time. Gotta love this. Fortunately, he hooks up with a genie who provides him substantial material wealth. Jasmine is eventually won over by him, and after a nifty bondage scene in a glass bottle (what’s with the glass theme anyway?) they end up happily ever after.

Speaking of bondage, what’s with Tinkerbelle? Kitten with a whip is more like it. She carries this pointy little stick that flings out fairy dust and causes people to fly. She can manipulate people fifty times her size and has a fixation on a little boy. What’s up here? And Wendy! Sneaks off in the middle of the night with a stranger and drags her little brothers with her. And parents can’t understand why little Bryan is standing in an open windowsill at three am screaming for his shadow…

Now maybe it’s only my dirty little mind picking up all the sexual innuendoes. Maybe the Aryan stereotyping is only in this non-white person’s head. Perhaps it’s my feminist mentality pointing out the apparent helplessness of the women, or should I say, girls, in Disney. Maybe it’s my own failed attempts at love that causes me to see past Prince Charming. I don’t know. I mean, I can understand the excitement of the fairy tale and the happy ending, but I also have a small grasp on reality. Reality isn’t Disney. Reality is many colors, many shapes, many sizes. Reality includes many races and isn’t always PC. Reality is women with strength beyond the strength of their assigned rescuer. Reality is the world we live in, not some Technicolor dreamscape.

Is it wrong to hate Disney? I can’t blame the state of the world on a few select movies and themes but I can question the mass force feeding of unreal ideals on the children who buy into the Disney world. I can wonder if African-American or Hispanic children feel left out. I can wonder if the little girls who happen to be outside the glamorized norm of the Disney heroine grow up to be the same little girls struggling to be Cindy Crawford. I can wonder what Disney is teaching our children.

[ Topic Fiction & Snobbery, Short Fiction | No Comments ]