Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Let's Talk About The Stigma Around Enjoying "Kids" Things

Every so often, when I tell people I have a Master's Degree in Children's Literature, I can see the internal question behind their eyes: "Is that even a real thing?" They're usually much too polite to say that though, so they usually ask a variant of, "Oh! What kind of job do you get with that?" or, "So you just read kids books for a living?"

To be fair, most of the time, especially when I mention that I focus on Disney and Harry Potter, people's eyes light up and they start to talk enthusiastically about their favorite Disney movie or their favorite childhood book or they lean forward, as if we're sharing a guilty secret, and ask, "So what do you think about...?" Most of the time, it's a pleasant conversation. After all, the power of nostalgia is strong, and most people find it easy to talk about Disney movies or vacations.

But sometimes, I admit, it's easier to just say I have a Master's in 19th Century British Literature. Which I do. I actually have 2 Master's Degrees, which is not a #humblebrag, but more to point out that one of them is generally regarded as "more valid" or "better" than the other. Reading Dickens and the Brontes and Austen and Shelley is considered a legitimate form of academic study -- people get that. But reading Harry Potter and watching Disney movies? That, to some people, just isn't an acceptable way for an adult to spend her time.

Which, quite frankly, is ridiculous. But that doesn't change the fact that when things are marketed to children, they are seen as juvenile: simpler, easier, lesser. I'm certainly not the only one to observe this trend, and it's not a new phenomenon easier, despite the recent surge in popularity of YA fiction.

There's a really great quote by C. S. Lewis from an essay he wrote, titled "On Three Ways of Writing For Children" -- actually, the whole essay is great and I highly recommend it -- that neatly sums up this idea. Lewis writes,
"I am almost inclined to set it up as a canon that a children’s story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children’s story. [...] This canon seems to me most obviously true of that particular type of children’s story which is dearest to my own taste, the fantasy or fairy tale. Now the modern critical world uses ‘adult’ as a term of approval. [...] Hence a man who admits that dwarfs and giants and talking beasts and witches are still dear to him in his fifty-third year is now less likely to be praised for his perennial youth than scorned and pitied for arrested development." 
Lewis then goes on to offer a three-prong defense of fantasy and the fairy tale, and says this in his first defense:
"When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up."
To Lewis, the notion of being judged for one's personal preferences -- the fear of that judgment -- those are the childish marks of arrested development. A well-adjusted adult (not grown-up!) cares little for such judgment and is comfortable in their own skin.
[And, yes. The phrase "when I became a man I put away childish things" is an allusion to 1 Corinthians because while Lewis is (perhaps) most famous for his Chronicles of Narnia series, he was also a rather prolific theologian. I admit that I didn't know this until my younger brother was assigned one his theology books for homework at his private, Episcopal high school -- although, in hindsight, the religious symbolism in the Narnia books isn't exactly subtle. Aslan is a pretty obvious Christ figure when you think about it, which Little Me certainly didn't. Whoops.]

Anyway -- all of this is a rather long-winded way of introducing this:


I came across this article this morning and immediately bristled. My knee-jerk, snarky response was, "So? I'm [older than 24] and I love all things Disney." Yes, maybe the caption was click-baity, but the implication seemed to be that the author ought not to be enjoying a show about a Disney Princess on the Disney Channel. After all, the Disney Channel airs children's programming for kids, not adults.

The beginning of the article didn't do much to assuage me either:
"These are questions I often ask people when I get a little tipsy and start talking about TV, because, as I am here to proudly proclaim, my favorite show on TV right now is none other than the Tangled continuation/sequel series that everyone is sleeping on, Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure."
I prickled when I read this part because, again, the implication seems to be the author can only gush about one of her favorite things when her guard has been let down, her inhibitions lowered, her judgment impaired. Sober, she would never admit to liking, let alone loving, such a show, making it seem as if enjoying a Disney product is a dirty little secret and a very-guilty-pleasure. She even goes to criticize Disney a little bit, when she says:
"Yes, I am 24 years old and love a kids’ show about a Disney Princess, but this show—created to give Rapunzel more outfits so they can sell a new line of Tangled dolls—has some surprisingly relatable themes for millennials (and even Gen Z)."
The criticism of Disney-the-Company here is striking. Taking Disney down a peg -- reducing the show to another example of its synergistic relationship between film and merchandise -- isn't surprising: it's the dominant narrative these days. It just seems like a way to qualify the appeal of the show, to legitimate the rest of what she's about to say.
[It also seems, to me, to be unfair. Yes, of course, there's merchandise that accompanies the show, but I view the business and creative sides of the company as two separate entities. Perhaps that's naive of me, but I don't think that Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi would have agree to return to do the show if it had been a shallow merchandising ploy. And Mandy Moore has acknowledged this.]

To be fair, though, the rest of the article is a spot-on insightful account of the ways in which the show transcends average children's programming on network TV. Yes, shenanigans ensue and it's entertaining -- but the show and the TV movie work to expand the typical Disney Princess narrative, which is often really heavily criticized. After all, the show acknowledges: (1) Rapunzel has to enter the real world for the first time and adjust to a new normal and deal with the aftermath of her abusive relationship with Mother Gothel; (2) she has to forge a relationship with parents she doesn't really know; (3) she has to work at her relationship with Flynn/Eugene because happily-ever-afters don't just happen -- relationships take work (and that is revolutionary in and of itself). And, perhaps most importantly, Rapunzel gets a female friend with whom she gets to develop a real relationship. (Disney princesses are, shockingly, light on both female friends and human friends, let alone one who is both.)


This is  a show to be celebrated -- and to be celebrated without qualification. It doesn't matter if this is labeled a "kids" show; good storytelling is good storytelling, no matter the "target" audience.

This is also, I think, part of a larger cultural conversation. (Aren't most things?) There's this really great meme (which of course I can't find because I'm looking for it) that points out that fans who cosplay are ridiculed for playing dress-up far past the socially-accepted age to do so, whereas sports fans who paint their faces and wear the jersey of their favorite team/player escape that ridicule -- even though the two activities are, essentially, the same. The idea, of course, is that being a sports fan -- and, by extension, showing your support of that sport -- is a socially accepted thing for an adult to do. Dressing up as your favorite character from a TV show or movie just...isn't. Again, it's the idea that it's juvenile, childish, and therefore distasteful or inappropriate in some way.

But, to return to Lewis once more:
"For I need not remind such an audience as this that the neat sorting-out of books into age-groups, so dear to publishers, has only a very sketchy relation with the habits of any real readers. Those of us who are blamed when old for reading childish books were blamed when children for reading books too old for us. No reader worth his salt trots along in obedience to a time-table."
And no person "worth his salt trots along in obedience" to "socially acceptable conventions." It seems quite simple, to me (even though I know it really isn't): read the books you enjoy reading. Watch the movies and the TV shows you want to watch. Support the sports teams you want to support. And show your support and enjoyment in any way you want -- and certainly do so without any shame.

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