Not y'all belting "My Heart Will Go On."
It's 04:38 P.S.T., July 3rd, and there's a Full Moon in Capricorn
Note: Whoopsie! In a sleep-deprived haze, I published an earlier draft instead of the finale. Here are my fully fleshed-out thoughts. Nom, nom, sluts.
Dearest F@guettes,
Ok, let’s talk about it.
In twelve hundred provocative words, Brontez Purnell, author of Johnny Would Love Me If My Dick Were Bigger, boisterously reviewed Disney’s live-action film, The Little Mermaid. After guffawing through his deeply earnest prose, I was surprisingly riled up by one question. “Can mainstream America,” he posed rhetorically, “allow a young Black girl to inhabit the realm of the universal hero?” My rhetorical answer? No, at least, not yet.
Whether outraged by Yara Shahidi’s Tinkerbell or affronted by Brandy’s Cinderella, the Wonderbread Brigade is perpetually pressed. At first blush, their grievances betray a seemingly genuine, albeit racist, concern for reality: “The Little Mermaid is a Danish fairy tale,” one viral tweet reads, “ . . . Danish people are, historically speaking, white.” Shortly after sharing their worries, accusations of black-washing (needlessly making white characters Black) permeate the air. Their sentiment is undergirded by a curious assumption: storytellers (especially those of the race-swapping variety) boldly misrepresent reality.
Who’s reality I wonder.
Lest we forget: the majority rules the mainstream and the mainstream ain’t Black. And yet, in the hands of Black women, the white imagination, in all its prestige and prevalence, is satisfyingly, if not temporarily, disrupted. Why? Their presence within white narratives exposes the myth of universality for what it is, a veiled lie. Abstract ideals like bravery, love, sacrifice, and self-expression are experienced by everyone. But they are experienced differently and for different reasons. More on such disparities to come.
For now, let’s revisit the bones of Hans Christian Andersen’s adapted story.
Prodded by an endearing curiosity for the human world, Ariel’s boundlessness leads her toward a youthful infatuation with Prince Eric. Upon learning this, her father, threatened by his daughter’s longing, violently curtails her excitement by destroying her secret grotto filled with human treasures. Defiant and determined, Ariel petitions the sea witch Ursula to turn her into a human. She agrees under one condition. Ariel and the Prince must share true love’s kiss in three days’ time: if accomplished, she will remain a human; if not, her soul will belong to the witch for eternity.
So, what is the difference between Jodi Benson's and Halle Bailey's performances?
Both portrayals are impelled by a sense of difference and most importantly a desire to escape. By pursuing the alternatives set before them, they embrace sweet, sweet rewards. In 1989, when Benson premiered the role, she was justly praised for playing “a fully realized female character who thinks and acts independently.” Where other Disney princesses relied passively on princes, Ariel took her fate into her own hands. She was bold and winsome, consequently earning the audience’s “sympathy for her scheming.” Lauded as “expressive, energetic, and infinitely likable,” Bailey champions the iconic role thirty-four years later. Her blend of girlish charm and womanly grit achieved a breathtakingly textured performance. “Part of Your World” and “For the First Time” were particularly rousing because they were undergirded by loftier stakes, stakes only a Black woman could play. Suddenly, hidden or nonexistent disparities rise to the surface and reveal themselves.
Can you see them?
“Where could we walk, where could we run, if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me, and I could be, part of your world” carries completely different implications in Halle Bailey’s hands. As an African-American woman, her presence transforms the lyrics into an earnest cry for freedom. Yearning to transcend the oppressive systems holding her down, she’s determined to set herself free. “Watch and you’ll see, someday I’ll be, part of your world” acts as a confident promise that we can take to the bank.
Well, I probably shouldn’t say “we.”
Ironically, fantasy is most emphatic when serving the purposes of reality———thank you, Philip Pullman. As Halle Bailey belts in their face, white America must grapple with the actualities of Black subjectivity. Hence the incessant foaming at the mouth. Robbed of their universal (read: apolitical) reading, they cannot categorically ignore the Black experience and neither can their children.
By and large, I was delightfully surprised that the film, far from perfect, indirectly acknowledged the following John Berger truths that I try to measure all art, including my own, by:
“Reality is all we have to love,”
“Reality is not a given: it has to be continually sought out, held.”
“Never again will a single story be told as if it’s the only one.”
I look forward to a world that honors such wisdom on the screen and off.
Sincerely,
E.Y.
Endangered Bookslut Caught in The Wild:
“In order to keep surviving,” Zebra confided, “that which expands has to contract. Just look at the human heart.” Call Me Zebra, a novel centered around womanhood and self-realization, is helping my heavy-laden spirit endure. Buried beneath sleepless nights and caffeinated days, her prose has been an unexpected breath of fresh air to me. I am tempted to steal away to the beach and read the novel in one sitting.
Books with Pictures, Books with Words, Books that Caught My Wandering Eye:
Note: Tommy “Teebs” Pico, a queer indigenous writer and poet, reinvigorates my relationship with poetry every time I engage with his work. “What is an “I” if not an inheritance” may be one of my favorite lines of his. If you’d like to read more of his work, click the button below. Or, check Reservoir Dogs on FX.
Inheritance
by Tommy “Teebs” Pico
1. My mother was voted “best legs” in her senior high school yearbook, despite the fact that she was also student body president and editor in chief of the school paper. Only boys got superlatives like, “Most Likely to Succeed.”
2. Doctors say that Indians are predisposed to a lot of illnesses, like alcoholism and diabetes. At the clinic, patient history starts the first time you get sick. They ask me why don’t I eat, nearly commit me when I say because my great grandfather’s horses were stolen in 1890.
3. Myths aren't told to make things seem down to earth.
4. Thinking all the time vs Giving up (the butt).
5. Cigarette habit that kicks in around the third drink and the right lung.
6. Things that make me want to run: I) Seeing other people run. II) Eating a whole pizza. III) Everyone adoring the same person.
7. Upon being drafted into Vietnam, my father guided tanks through minefields in the jungle when he was very young. I have never not once walked in the wrong direction surfacing from the subway.
8. Waiting to be moved.
9. Waiting to be introduced.
10. Always wanting to raise my hand first.
11. My father's unfinished collection of poetry is called, "In the Days of Tall Cans and Short Hopes."
12. Songs to sing when the roommates are gone vs songs to sing at karaoke vs songs to listen to, pretending.
13. Collections: do they get better, or just bigger?
14. Devin at Blue Olive. James at Pine State. Barry at Cup. Angelo at Dave & Busters. Jean Baptiste at Point Ephemere. Eric at Pop In. Federico at Monster Ronsons. BigGuySF365 at Adam4Adam. Me at Gmail.
15. There must be a word for this in some romance language, for looking down at your legs and seeing mom; for looking down at your hands and seeing dad.