Last
weekend, I took my five year old daughter and her best friend to see Frozen
II. My daughter had been counting down the days for a week. We
watched the trailer multiple times. She drew pictures of her friend and herself
in the theatre. When the moment arrived, the movie did not disappoint. My child
and her bestie sat mesmerized while watching, laughing at Olaf and cheering for
Queen Anna.
As
with most things in parenting, my husband and I take the good with the bad when
it comes to Disney. By the time our child was three, we knew princesses would
be a phase we couldn’t ignore—so instead of fighting it, we curated it. Moana
is much more common at our house than say, Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella. And
after seeing the Princess and the Frog
once, we never brought it back into rotation. My daughter pretty quickly caught
on as to why: “it’s a movie about a frog, not a princess!” she complained, and
we agreed.
The
first Frozen had its issues, too, but I was encouraged to see prominent
and obviously black characters in the trailer for the second movie. I assumed that
Disney, attuned to a new cultural era, would make some other improvements in
terms of race and gender norms. On the whole, the movie did make changes that
align better with our current cultural moment. Kristoff stayed behind, for
example, letting the two women take center stage in the adventure. And, when it
came down to it, he was the perfect partner to Anna—offering unwavering and
unquestioning help at the precisely right time. Furthermore, Lieutenant Mattias,
who is black, heroically saves Anna, along with Kristoff. He’s also given a
depth of personality in that he can change his mind.
But
one moment had me pulling out my phone in the dim glow of the theatre and
sending an urgent text to my husband: “Troubling racial moments in movie. Can’t
wait to discuss,” I wrote.
I
should offer some background: my husband and I both have doctorates in critical
race studies. I’m white and he’s black. We have our share of personal and
intellectual experience thinking about race. And we’re very intentional about
the (developmentally appropriate) conversations regarding race that we have
with our daughter. So, at the moment when it was revealed that Anna and Elsa’s
mother was Northuldra, a fictional culture based on the Sámi people, I had some
feels.
First
of all, we make it a point to talk to our daughter about how curly hair is great
and a long blond braid is not necessary to be a true princess. Elsa’s whiteness
is something that we’ve been managing for years. It doesn’t go away thanks to a
strange plot twist, no matter how many consultants
Disney hires.
The
hiddenness of Anna and Elsa’s biracial identity touches on a long history of
passing—either voluntarily or non-voluntarily—by many bi- and multi-racial
people. What’s more troubling, however, is that Elsa appears to find answers to
questions about her magical powers thanks to this newly revealed identity.
No matter how positive Disney’s depiction of the Northuldra might be, it suggests
that their relationship with a magical “enchanted forest” is fundamental and
specific to that culture. Elsa’s ability to respond to this nature and control
it is the source of her power. In fact, as Elsa discovers more and more about
her own powers and her own family history, she becomes more magical. Here’s the
problem: Disney’s decision to connect her powers specifically to her Northuldra
heritage racializes Elsa’s magic. In an effort to positively portray a
non-white culture, Disney comes quite close to evoking the premise Spike Lee called
out in 2001 as America’s fascination with the “magical negro.”
I
am not suggesting that any of this complexity was apparent to my daughter as
she watched the movie. And I do not want to discount some sincere improvements.
Other, more obvious, plot points offer means to think about righting the wrongs
of our world in a way that I truly appreciate. The fact that Anna and Elsa must
destroy what their grandfather created in order to save the world is, for
example, revolutionary. (A recent Slate
article suggested this was, in fact, a commentary on reparations.) We
are also living in a time when the need to make drastic changes in order to
right the injustice of the past is painfully obvious. The work required today
to dismantle injustice involves, for most white people, siding against
relatives in favor of fellow humans to whom they are not related. Anna destroys
her grandfather’s dam, even though it might mean destroying her homeland. And
yet—Anna and Elsa’s biological relationship to the Northuldra tempers the
revolutionary nature of this act.
Is
Disney suggesting that biracial people are somehow supposed to lead the way in the
process of creating a better future?
That’s
an awfully big burden to bear.
Ultimately,
Frozen II is a children’s movie about magical princesses, but the story
it tells gives kids a template for imagining the future. The fact that the
movie has powerful women acting alone—and not simply in search of love—is a
huge step forward. The film passes the Bechdel test. And the fact that it shows
complicated black characters as heroic actors is also fantastic. The positive
ways that this informs our child’s imaginative play are obvious.
Yet,
in Frozen II’s anxiety to do better
by portraying the Northuldra in a positive light, Disney has stumbled into a
trap of overcorrection. Non-white people have the right to be ordinary. Positively
depicting a culture doesn’t mean making people so good that they have some supernatural
power that the rest of us don’t—that’s also dehumanizing. Furthermore,
recognizing the wrongs of the past—and having the power and will to act to
change them—shouldn’t require a biological connection to those who were
wronged.
Like
many parents, my husband and I take the initiative in normalizing what our
child experiences. For example, a large percentage of our friends have
multiracial families and that has ensured that our child does not feel shame or
isolation due to her identity.
Thankfully,
building this type of community in our world today has not been difficult. On
the other hand, we do still struggle to make sure that race doesn’t mean
anything more than it has to. Our child isn’t more beautiful, more intelligent,
or more powerful because of her heritage. People often suggest these things to
us—and we make sure to correct them. Being biracial doesn’t mean that a person is
somehow inferior—but it doesn’t mean that they have to be superior either. And
it certainly doesn’t mean that they must have magical powers.
