To which I respond, "Of course I can."
Because even though I can put on my Professor Cap and analyze why Cinderella presents outdated gender roles from the 1950s, I can still also see the good in it. I see a female-driven narrative with a protagonist who is unflinchingly and unfailingly cheerful and hopeful.
And, perhaps what's more important, is that my children will have a wide variety of characters to watch in their Disney [Princess] movies. For the earliest part of my childhood, the only princesses I had were Snow White, Cinderella, and Aurora -- homogenous by even the loosest definition of the word. But I grew up with the Disney Princesses -- I was the target demographic for The Little Mermaid, and while I can't attest to how watching that film repeatedly unknowingly influenced me, I can speak to what I knowingly took away from that film. And my children -- my daughter -- will have even more variety than I did, both in terms of racial identity and physical appearance as well as in character and achievement.
Which is part of the reason why we're watching the Disney princess movies in reverse. While Toy Story 3 was my daughter's first Disney movie (mainly because it was on TV over a weekend when I was struggling with some first trimester ickiness), Moana is the first Disney movie she watched when she was old enough to be aware of it.
What really got me thinking of all of this (again) was the other day, when we were finishing up Frozen. My daughter's seen parts of it before -- it's been on TV often enough -- but this was the first time that we actually sat down and watched it. She's also learned who the characters are from several Frozen books we have -- Anna Loves Elsa is her current favorite, I think, but my husband reads her the Pop-Up Adventure book and she loves it -- and connects Elsa with snow (which makes my heart happy).
But then we got to this scene:
You know? One of the BEST parts of the whole movie where Anna has a choice -- she can save herself by running to Kristoff or she can sacrifice herself by running to Elsa and she chooses Elsa?
To be honest, my daughter was a little concerned at this point -- she didn't quite understand why Anna was so cold or why her fingers were turning blue and she had snowflakes on her cheeks. And when Anna froze, and Elsa flung herself on her sister out of grief -- my daughter turned to look at me, as if searching for reassurance that everything would be okay. Yes, she'll learn one day that a Disney movie means that everything turns out okay for The Good Guys, but in this instance, I just chose to tell her that Elsa was worried about her sister, and so she gave her a hug, because that's what you do when you love someone and you want them to know that.
And I watched my daughter watch Elsa hug Anna -- I watched her face as Anna's act of true love melted her frozen heart, and the happy ending arrived. Maybe, to my daughter, it was the hug that melted Anna -- not Anna's selfless act; after all, she's not even 2 -- but either way, she got the gist of it. And, right before Anna punched Hans, my daughter came up and gave me a hug.
Now. Of course my daughter has hugged me before. But it's usually reflexive, or something she seeks out when she falls, or something she does when she's asked, as if to prove that she can do it, like say her name or identify a color. But connecting the act of hugging with a voluntary display of affection...that's been a bit elusive.
Not anymore. Disney helped my daughter make that connection. Why wouldn't I want her to learn that?
I think of all the other lessons Disney can teach my daughter, and they're lessons that I want her to learn.
She loves Moana -- maybe even more than Frozen. (And I'm a proud Mama Bear that she can articulately say Moana, Maui, and hawk -- she wanted to know the words for the pictures she saw.) But I think of all the positive messages that movie can teach her. Like this one. This is her favorite scene in the movie (well, I think it is. She can't really articulate "favorites" yet, but she does ask for the "turtle scene"):
When I watch her watch this part of the movie, this is what I see: I see her anxious for the baby turtle -- even though she doesn't quite understand why, she knows Baby Moana is concerned for it, and she's concerned -- I see her watch Baby Moana protect it and care for it, show compassion for another living creature, and I see her watch Baby Moana save the turtle, reuniting it with it's parents (Squirt from Finding Nemo maybe?!).
And, again: how could I not want my daughter to learn that message?
Yes, I know Disney isn't perfect. Believe me, I know. I spend a good deal of my non-teaching-work-time reading about how awful Disney is for kids and why we shouldn't be exposing our kids to their messages.
But then I think about my daughter's spontaneous hug and watching her learn the value of caring for an animal and...the bad messages don't seem so bad. After all, it's not like she won't have me harping in her ear about why the "bad" things aren't that great ("Remember what Queen Elsa said! You can't marry a man you just met! Remember how Kristoff asked Anna's permission before he kissed her? Consent is an important thing!"). I'm totally going to be "that mom." But I guess, to me, the good far outweighs the potentially bad.
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