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It's Not Just Frozen: Most Disney Movies Are Pro-Gay
By preaching acceptance and questioning gender, the company's kids films
offer a queer-studies crash course.
AKASH NIKOLASAPR 23 2014, 8:01 AM ET
19
inShare
More
Disney
The culture warriors have decided: Disney’s Frozen is queer. Elsa hiding
her ice-powers could be read as a metaphor for the closet, the Oscar-winning
“Let it Go” plays like a coming-out anthem, and a character in the film
evokes the question of whether homosexuality is a choice by inquiring of
Elsa’s powers, “born with it or cursed?” Some liberals have praised the
film for its subtext; some conservatives have denounced it.
More on Frozen
Frozen: Too Cynical?
In Defense of Prince Charming
How Parents Can Turn Frozen's Big Twist Into a Teachable Moment
But the most remarkable thing about queer readings of the film may be how
unremarkable they really are. Through both its corporate practices and the
content of its films, Disney for decades has implemented the so-called "gay
agenda"—which is to say, helping make the world a more accepting place.
To start in the most obvious place: As a business, Disney has long held a
progressive attitude toward LGBT people. Gay pride events have been hosted
at Disney World since 1991, and the company started offered its gay
employees health insurance benefits for their partners since 1995, a
decision that wasn’t entirely popular back then.
One of the most poignant examples of the company’s tolerant atmosphere is
the case of lyricist Howard Ashman, who was openly gay and died of AIDS in
1991. Not only did Ashman write songs for The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the
Beast and Aladdin, he was also closely involved in those films’
productions, casting actors and holding story meetings with animators. At
the end of Beauty and the Beast, Disney acknowledged his contributions with
this tribute: “To our friend Howard Ashman who gave a mermaid her voice and
a beast his soul, we will be forever grateful.”
But Ashman’s story also offers an example of how the substance of Disney’s
films reflect an interest in LGBT peoples’ struggles. Ashman worked on
Beauty and the Beast while suffering through the worst (and final) phases of
his illness, and composer Alan Menken called the film Ashman’s “personal
story.” The result is a movie that can be viewed as an allegory: Shunned
from society, his body hideously transformed, and his life wilting away like
the enchanted rose, the Beast is a figure of degenerative disease. Belle’s
love and the ultimate breaking of the curse is the fantasy cure that Ashman
was denied.
But even without Ashman’s involvement, queer kids could identify with
Disney protagonists, who are usually outcasts set apart from society by some
innate desire (usually indicated by an “I want” song that details
whatever dream that particular character is pining to attain). Ariel (The
Little Mermaid) wanted to be part of another world, the townspeople think
Belle (Beauty and the Beast) is “a funny girl … different from the rest of
us” and Pocahontas (Pocahontas) does not want to be steady as the beating
drum. This marks the Disney protagonist as odd, unusual, queer.
Queer kids can uniquely identify with Disney protagonists, who are usually
outcasts set apart from society by some innate desire.
Even classic Disney films featured these archetypes. Initially mocked by his
peers, Dumbo (Dumbo) “comes out” and waves his freak flag after
hallucinating pink elephants and learning to fly. Pinocchio (Pinocchio)
reflects queer anxiety since he doesn’t know how to act like “a real boy,
” and he thinks performing masculinity through smoking, cursing, and
misbehaving will earn his father’s love.
Then there’s the fact that Disney protagonists often reject traditional
marriage partners. Ariel wants to marry a human against her father’s wishes
, Belle rejects Gaston’s proposal in front of the whole town, Jasmine
refuses to marry the sultan’s suitors, Pocahontas refuses to marry a tribal
warrior, and Mulan rejects conventional matchmaking. In this way, even
though Disney films usually offer a traditional happy ending with a
heterosexual marriage, the journey always involves rejecting parental and
societal expectations, and exercising a “freedom to marry whomever you love
” spirit that is endemic to gay rights.
Indeed, many Disney romances are examples of “impossible desire,” a trope
that is crucial to the queer experience, as gender-studies theorist Heather
Love argued in Feeling Backward. It was impossible for Ariel to be with Eric
unless she became human, or for Belle to be with the Beast unless he became
human, or for Aladdin to be with Jasmine unless he became a prince, or for
Pocahontas to be with John Smith unless she left her people.
In the seminal Gender Trouble, Judith Butler pointed out how gender was in
part performance-based, a fact that Disney has often depicted with cross-
dressing and gender subversion. The company’s animators cite the drag
performer Divine as the inspiration for Ursula in The Little Mermaid. Just
as Divine was cast in Pink Flamingos because “society saw [drag characters]
as perverts so they decided to revel in their status,” so too Ursula is
marked a pervert by introducing sex to a children’s animated film. She
encourages Ariel to use her body to lure the prince, and her magic not only
gives the mermaid legs but also (presumably) a sexual organ, as Ariel
emerges from the sea completely naked and must be covered up.
In another instance of gender bending, the Genie in Aladdin shapeshifts into
many characters, including female ones, and even dons feminine clothes and
underwear at different points in the film. Indeed, Aladdin’s romance with
Jasmine is much less developed than his friendship with the genie, and his
decision to free the genie provides the movie’s poignant climax. Robin
Williams's character even acknowledges the queer undercurrent: “I’m
getting kinda fond of you kid … not that I want to pick out curtains or
anything.”
Another obvious example: Mulan, where the protagonist disguises herself as a
male soldier. When the soldiers later dress themselves as courtesans so
they can sneak into the palace, the film completes its theme of gender as
performance, with women pretending to be men and men pretending to be women.
Mulan’s “I Want” song also plays like an anthem for kids born into the
wrong gendered body—“When will my reflection show who I am inside?”—and
intriguingly, the film insinuates that her male captain fell in love with
her while she was masquerading as a man.
Related Story
Does It Matter If the Heroine of Brave Is Gay?
More subtly, Disney protagonists often mature in ways that evoke the queer
experience. In The Queer Child Kathryn Bond Stockton argues that queerness
is not just about homosexuality, but also about growing in abnormal ways
that makes the child an outcast. First there is “growing sideways”—
children who in physical ways signify that they're different—which Disney
has depicted through Pinocchio’s nose, Dumbo’s ears, and Rapunzel’s hair.
Secondly there is “delayed growth” as seen in Peter Pan and The Jungle
Book where Peter and Mowgli want to remain in Neverland and the jungle
respectively so they won’t grow up. Similarly, the enchanted objects in
Beauty and the Beast cannot grow until the spell is broken and they become
human again, and Quasimodo and Rapunzel have been locked away in towers all
their lives, precluding adult socialization. Thirdly, there is “growth by
animals” where pets reflect the inner lives of their queer masters.
Certainly this last conceit is all over the Disney canon, where aside from
the obvious anthropomorphism of films like Bambi or The Lion King, there are
also lots of animal sidekicks reflecting the emotions of their masters in
films about human protagonists. Jiminy Cricket represents Pinocchio’s
conscience, Ariel’s pet fish reflects her joy or sorrow, and even villains
get their own vicarious pets, like Iago parroting Jafar’s evil.
Thus, Disney films have been both traditional and subversive, serving
wholesome princess stories to a largely hetero-normative global audience
while also subtly appealing to queer children. You don't need to be up on
your queer theory or buy into the “It Gets Better” campaign to understand
why any of this matters. Through conventional happy endings for outcasts and
oddballs, Disney films let every child know that it’s ok to be different.
It's Not Just Frozen: Most Disney Movies Are Pro-Gay
By preaching acceptance and questioning gender, the company's kids films
offer a queer-studies crash course.
AKASH NIKOLASAPR 23 2014, 8:01 AM ET
19
inShare
More
Disney
The culture warriors have decided: Disney’s Frozen is queer. Elsa hiding
her ice-powers could be read as a metaphor for the closet, the Oscar-winning
“Let it Go” plays like a coming-out anthem, and a character in the film
evokes the question of whether homosexuality is a choice by inquiring of
Elsa’s powers, “born with it or cursed?” Some liberals have praised the
film for its subtext; some conservatives have denounced it.
More on Frozen
Frozen: Too Cynical?
In Defense of Prince Charming
How Parents Can Turn Frozen's Big Twist Into a Teachable Moment
But the most remarkable thing about queer readings of the film may be how
unremarkable they really are. Through both its corporate practices and the
content of its films, Disney for decades has implemented the so-called "gay
agenda"—which is to say, helping make the world a more accepting place.
To start in the most obvious place: As a business, Disney has long held a
progressive attitude toward LGBT people. Gay pride events have been hosted
at Disney World since 1991, and the company started offered its gay
employees health insurance benefits for their partners since 1995, a
decision that wasn’t entirely popular back then.
One of the most poignant examples of the company’s tolerant atmosphere is
the case of lyricist Howard Ashman, who was openly gay and died of AIDS in
1991. Not only did Ashman write songs for The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the
Beast and Aladdin, he was also closely involved in those films’
productions, casting actors and holding story meetings with animators. At
the end of Beauty and the Beast, Disney acknowledged his contributions with
this tribute: “To our friend Howard Ashman who gave a mermaid her voice and
a beast his soul, we will be forever grateful.”
But Ashman’s story also offers an example of how the substance of Disney’s
films reflect an interest in LGBT peoples’ struggles. Ashman worked on
Beauty and the Beast while suffering through the worst (and final) phases of
his illness, and composer Alan Menken called the film Ashman’s “personal
story.” The result is a movie that can be viewed as an allegory: Shunned
from society, his body hideously transformed, and his life wilting away like
the enchanted rose, the Beast is a figure of degenerative disease. Belle’s
love and the ultimate breaking of the curse is the fantasy cure that Ashman
was denied.
But even without Ashman’s involvement, queer kids could identify with
Disney protagonists, who are usually outcasts set apart from society by some
innate desire (usually indicated by an “I want” song that details
whatever dream that particular character is pining to attain). Ariel (The
Little Mermaid) wanted to be part of another world, the townspeople think
Belle (Beauty and the Beast) is “a funny girl … different from the rest of
us” and Pocahontas (Pocahontas) does not want to be steady as the beating
drum. This marks the Disney protagonist as odd, unusual, queer.
Queer kids can uniquely identify with Disney protagonists, who are usually
outcasts set apart from society by some innate desire.
Even classic Disney films featured these archetypes. Initially mocked by his
peers, Dumbo (Dumbo) “comes out” and waves his freak flag after
hallucinating pink elephants and learning to fly. Pinocchio (Pinocchio)
reflects queer anxiety since he doesn’t know how to act like “a real boy,
” and he thinks performing masculinity through smoking, cursing, and
misbehaving will earn his father’s love.
Then there’s the fact that Disney protagonists often reject traditional
marriage partners. Ariel wants to marry a human against her father’s wishes
, Belle rejects Gaston’s proposal in front of the whole town, Jasmine
refuses to marry the sultan’s suitors, Pocahontas refuses to marry a tribal
warrior, and Mulan rejects conventional matchmaking. In this way, even
though Disney films usually offer a traditional happy ending with a
heterosexual marriage, the journey always involves rejecting parental and
societal expectations, and exercising a “freedom to marry whomever you love
” spirit that is endemic to gay rights.
Indeed, many Disney romances are examples of “impossible desire,” a trope
that is crucial to the queer experience, as gender-studies theorist Heather
Love argued in Feeling Backward. It was impossible for Ariel to be with Eric
unless she became human, or for Belle to be with the Beast unless he became
human, or for Aladdin to be with Jasmine unless he became a prince, or for
Pocahontas to be with John Smith unless she left her people.
In the seminal Gender Trouble, Judith Butler pointed out how gender was in
part performance-based, a fact that Disney has often depicted with cross-
dressing and gender subversion. The company’s animators cite the drag
performer Divine as the inspiration for Ursula in The Little Mermaid. Just
as Divine was cast in Pink Flamingos because “society saw [drag characters]
as perverts so they decided to revel in their status,” so too Ursula is
marked a pervert by introducing sex to a children’s animated film. She
encourages Ariel to use her body to lure the prince, and her magic not only
gives the mermaid legs but also (presumably) a sexual organ, as Ariel
emerges from the sea completely naked and must be covered up.
In another instance of gender bending, the Genie in Aladdin shapeshifts into
many characters, including female ones, and even dons feminine clothes and
underwear at different points in the film. Indeed, Aladdin’s romance with
Jasmine is much less developed than his friendship with the genie, and his
decision to free the genie provides the movie’s poignant climax. Robin
Williams's character even acknowledges the queer undercurrent: “I’m
getting kinda fond of you kid … not that I want to pick out curtains or
anything.”
Another obvious example: Mulan, where the protagonist disguises herself as a
male soldier. When the soldiers later dress themselves as courtesans so
they can sneak into the palace, the film completes its theme of gender as
performance, with women pretending to be men and men pretending to be women.
Mulan’s “I Want” song also plays like an anthem for kids born into the
wrong gendered body—“When will my reflection show who I am inside?”—and
intriguingly, the film insinuates that her male captain fell in love with
her while she was masquerading as a man.
Related Story
Does It Matter If the Heroine of Brave Is Gay?
More subtly, Disney protagonists often mature in ways that evoke the queer
experience. In The Queer Child Kathryn Bond Stockton argues that queerness
is not just about homosexuality, but also about growing in abnormal ways
that makes the child an outcast. First there is “growing sideways”—
children who in physical ways signify that they're different—which Disney
has depicted through Pinocchio’s nose, Dumbo’s ears, and Rapunzel’s hair.
Secondly there is “delayed growth” as seen in Peter Pan and The Jungle
Book where Peter and Mowgli want to remain in Neverland and the jungle
respectively so they won’t grow up. Similarly, the enchanted objects in
Beauty and the Beast cannot grow until the spell is broken and they become
human again, and Quasimodo and Rapunzel have been locked away in towers all
their lives, precluding adult socialization. Thirdly, there is “growth by
animals” where pets reflect the inner lives of their queer masters.
Certainly this last conceit is all over the Disney canon, where aside from
the obvious anthropomorphism of films like Bambi or The Lion King, there are
also lots of animal sidekicks reflecting the emotions of their masters in
films about human protagonists. Jiminy Cricket represents Pinocchio’s
conscience, Ariel’s pet fish reflects her joy or sorrow, and even villains
get their own vicarious pets, like Iago parroting Jafar’s evil.
Thus, Disney films have been both traditional and subversive, serving
wholesome princess stories to a largely hetero-normative global audience
while also subtly appealing to queer children. You don't need to be up on
your queer theory or buy into the “It Gets Better” campaign to understand
why any of this matters. Through conventional happy endings for outcasts and
oddballs, Disney films let every child know that it’s ok to be different.