Written by Colleen Clemens.
I took my daughter to see Kenneth Branagh’s live action Cinderella over the weekend, even though before my daughter was born, I swore there would be no princesses.
We knew she was a girl early on but, much to the consternation of those around us, didn’t share the news. I wanted to avoid the “pink tide” for as long as possible. We have a strict “No Barbie” policy in the house. I teach Gender Studies; I rail against the princesses during class hours. But my home isn’t a feminist utopia. My daughter made bracelets instead of bridges with her Goldie Blocks. At this point in her life, she is more interested in accessorizing than engineering.
I was parenting solo that weekend. I had a cold and was exhausted. The movie was cheap, the popcorn and soda for dinner even cheaper. I told myself it was a material issue, that it was a feminist act that I chose my sanity, the promise of her being still and entertained for a few hours worth the exposure to blond, white princesses. And there was the Frozen short we were both curious to see.
In the end, I liked the movie. But I didn’t love that I took her. Because I worry that some of the images from the film—as much as I tried to disrupt them—will stick with her. I can think of three specific examples.
First, the waists. I had been so worried about the whiteness, the blondeness, the general thinness, that I forgot to think about the waists, but during my viewing, all I could do was stare at Lily James and Cate Blanchett’s waists. I hadn’t read all of the pre-film hype about the issue, that James had eschewed solid food for days on end to fit her already slim waist into the corset. During the movie, my mind raced: Will my daughter think this size is normal, even though she often pulls up my shirt to look at my very normal belly to press my belly button? Will she start comparing my stomach to Cinderella’s? I kept wondering: Can film editors do the same tricks that print editors do? Is there some kind of filmic Photoshopping happening? (They swear there is no digital magic happening.) The waists are something to behold and left me trembling. Meanwhile, my daughter housed a large popcorn without a care in the world. But how long will it be before she starts to make connections between food and body shame, even if I do all I can to disrupt it?
Second, the love story. The idea that all stories work toward a heterosexual coupling is a myth we work toward disrupting in our household, for both familial and political reasons. We have lots of conversations about what love can look like for her and for those around us. So I wasn’t too upset when she insisted she needed to go to the bathroom at the moment Cinderella and Kit come together to declare their love. However, the line at the loo foiled my plan. As we stood at the back of the theater and watched the two come together, I whispered in her ear: “Remember, this movie is about a boy and a girl in love. And there are lots of other ways to love. But this movie right now is about a boy and a girl.” I can whisper in her ear all I want. Until she actually sees a romance that goes beyond the one trope we all know, these whispers may fall on deaf ears.
Third, the desperation. The shenanigans that the women of the kingdom enact to jam their feet into the glass slipper are hysterical. I laughed. Especially at the wicked stepsisters and their desperation to get…that…foot…into…that…shoe.
However, just as with the rest of the movie, I also felt an anxiety about those scenes as I felt the weight of my daughter, sitting on my knee at this point in the movie. If the goal to be attained is the love of a wealthy man in just about every film marketed to her, and if her initiation into girlhood isn’t going to be completely mediated by me (though how I wish that were possible), what are my choices? I can whisper in her ear that marriage isn’t everything, that waists aren’t that tiny, that love looks like many things, but aren’t the shouts of Disney in this world louder than my whispers in her ear?
I may only be as loud as the mice that flit about Cinderella’s feet.
Colleen Lutz Clemens is assistant professor of non-Western literatures at Kutztown University. She blogs about gender issues and postcolonial theory and literature at http://kupoco.wordpress.
Wonderful review. And I agree that the movie just looks WAY too white. But what does hair color have to do with it? The point is, these characters are all caucasian, but hair color shouldn’t be a factor in it. I find it both interesting and annoying that if many characters in a film or tv show have blonde hair, people just HAVE to talk about it. But every time there is a movie or show with mostly brunette characters, hardly anyone says anything. hmmmm it’s a little strange, and kind of offensive in itself. Okay, a character (and actor/actress) just happens to have blonde colored hair. So what? Although like I said, I agree there needs to be more diversity in films when it comes to race, but it should all be about skin color which is the real issue. Not hair / eye color. That’s irrelevant. Hating someone for their hair color (or even if it’s not hatred but annoyance) is kind of ridiculous and weird. Although not as bad as disgusting racists obviously.
Racial discrimination is obviously a hundred times worse and more important to fight against than something like hair color, but there is a clear valuation of blonde hair over any other color of hair in our society. Furthermore, that is most definitely tied into racism – blonde hair occurs most frequently in caucasians. Being white, blonde-haired, blue-eyed and skinny are associated with each other and seen as the “ideal,” (an ideal that Cinderella and the majority of other princess movies project) and that’s why it’s important to note and challenge, as well as race.
Not to mention… Look at Cindy’s eyebrows. Funny how the color doesn’t match her hair. Her hair dyed blonde… that definitely should be brought into the discussion, don’t you think?
It’s because the original Disney Cinderella was blonde.
Ironically, the ads at the bottom of this article are about hitting the jackpot, looking younger and loosing weight!! I always enjoy your articles, Colleen. I used to worry about media’s influence on Juliet as far as gender stereotypes and body image but little whisperings do work. She’s the most self-confident and open-minded almost 14 year old around!
Thank you for reading!
I understand that it’s challenging to counteract the dominant messages in media for children. I really liked Cinderella, personally, but I’m not a mother, I am old enough to know better than to take it at face value, and I have a soft spot for the older Disney films. If I was taking a child to this movie I might have the same concerns as you do. Still, I’m curious, why do you consider Frozen more acceptable? I felt it had an equal share of problems. It contains absolutely no nonwhite speaking characters, the women are made to fit such a narrow physical type that they all look identical to each other, and the obligatory romantic subplot felt even more unnecessary to me than usual. The sisters’ relationship also didn’t feel realistic to me, and I was not impressed with the plot and the visuals, but these criticisms are more about its success as a work of fiction than its feminist merits.
Instead of whispering your beliefs into her ear, why don’t you let your daughter have her own thoughts?
Parenting is about guiding a child in a hard world.