There’s an article from last November in the Guardian that’s been making the rounds. It’s about how, contrary to popular belief, the Brothers Grimm don’t have the exclusive claim to fairy tales. The article goes on to describe Baroness Marie Catherine d’Aulnoy, one of a small group of women in the 17th century who were known as storytellers and wrote fairytales to subvert the patriarchy.
I must have been sent this piece a dozen times. Because if you’ve been in just about any kind of relationship with me over the past 30 years, you know I’m deeply interested in both fairy tales and in subverting the patriarchy.
My interest in fairy tales has gone from casually reading them, to studying them, to criticising them, to dismissing them, to re-engaging them, to exploring them in new (to me) ways, to embracing them for what they were, what they are, and what they could be, to writing them.
I was in the generation who grew up with the first Disney princesses: Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, the Little Mermaid. Now Snow White was a bit too baby-faced and voiced for me to really get into, but I liked the others quite a bit. Until I didn’t. Until I was horrified by the messages I was told they taught. So I scoffed at the cartoons and didn’t watch them again.
Until I had a daughter. And my sister let her watch Cinderella while I was in labor with my second child. And oooooh was I mad. How dare she. That patriarchal piece of propaganda! And then my 2 year old daughter begged to watch it again. So I watched it with her, ready to point out all the bullshit. And it turns out I liked it. As a critical-thinking, over-educated, hyper-self-reflective feminist, I really liked Disney’s Cinderella. Allow me to elaborate:
First of all, yes, Cinderella does begin with a song that is basically an ode to the law of attraction. She’s fairly cheerful, but this girl’s got a snide side. She snaps at the clock, she indicates that she is going to beat the evil cat with a broom, and there’s a moment when the wicked stepmother is ordering her to do things and Cinderella glares and rolls her eyes. It’s amazing. I rewound it to make sure it actually happened. When the stepsisters make fun of her, Cinderella takes a deep breath, clearly calming herself from kicking the shit out of them. This chick is relentless in caring for the creatures around her, including the evil cat. She is kind and reasonable--and she makes fun of the stepsister’s horrendous singing. She has a temper which she is consistently keeping under control So, a pretty great character.
There is zero indication that Cinderella is dreaming of a prince--or anyone--to save her from her situation. She is clearly dreaming of a better life, but for all we know she’s dreaming of getting a job at the bank and moving out. Cinderella does show excitement when the invitation from the prince arrives. I get it. If I got an invitation to see Stephen Colbert, I’d freak the fuck out. That doesn’t mean I want him to marry me. But I’d sure love to give him a fist bump.
The prince shows up 50 minutes in and is done 5 minutes later. And the whole “this is love” thing could be taken a few different ways, including to a girl who has been abused by three women for most of her life, a human showing interest in her seems like the best thing ever.
I watched this movie with my daughter and thought, huh, I’ve bought into a story about this story that doesn’t actually accurately reflect the story. That feels like a big thing. That feels like something that might speak to more than this specific movie.
In what ways do I let others’ opinions or issues or soapboxes limit my own experience? Or how I might experience something? All it took was for someone to say to me, “Cinderella is a story about how women need to be saved by princes.” And I said, what? Oh hell no! That’s not for me!
But that’s not what the story is for me. I’m a big fan of being informed, of education, of researching. And, having said that, when it comes to stories, the information and the education and the researching leads me back to: listen to the story. What is there for you? Listen to it ten years later. Now what’s there? Read it to your kid or your cousin or your favorite fish. What is there now? Tell it differently. Hear it differently. Play with it. Let it play with you.
Katie Carey is a spiritual midwife, community herbalist, and theater artist devoted to real-izing the Emerging Story. Katie spent 10 years doing theater in the Northwest, followed by 8 years of theater in Chicago. She then decided what she really wanted to do was raise a family in a hand-built hobbit hole in the middle of a mud puddle on a Montana farm. So that’s what’s happening now. Katie's works include How to Re-Ignite Your Internal Fire, Foul-Mouthed Mystic, Vasilisa + Baba Yaga (or: How to Destroy Your Enemies without Losing Your Soul), Excommunicated! The Musical, New Creation Stories for the Emerging Paradigm, The Real Life Adventures of Lizzy and Rilla, and Solitaire.
Katie has degrees in theater and spirituality, so she can act like she cares.
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