Black Ariel is good for white kids too.
When I first saw Wonder Woman in 2017, I had read about how women were having a specific reaction to the movie. They were crying. I didn’t know what scene was causing this swelling of emotion and I didn’t know why, but I picked up this movie from Redbox with that little nugget of knowledge and then promptly forgot about it.
And then, that scene happened. You know the one.
I lost it. Tears were streaming down my face and sobs were falling from my mouth. My husband looked both perplexed and amused and asked me, “Why are you crying?”
I responded with certainty, “I’ve never seen this before! I’ve never a woman represented like that in a movie before!”
I had seen tired women and nagging women and sexy women and angry women in movies, but never before had I seen a woman take on an entire army alone. That was something a man would do. Watching Wonder Woman charge forward made me feel like I could do that too - you know, if I had incredible strength, tools with magical properties, and a bit more flexibility than my “I went to an art college” body contained.
Now Ariel was not my favorite princess growing up (Hi Belle!), but she is my daughter’s. When I told my 7-year-old that The Little Mermaid was going to get a live-action version, she was excited. She sings every word in the new Beauty and the Beast and tolerates my love of the Aladdin remake. These new movies have been important to her. So when The Little Mermaid trailer released, I was flipping my fins as fast as possible, phone in hand, to show her.
As Ariel’s face emerged from the darkness, I saw the expression on my own daughter’s face change.
“Braids! She has braids! I don’t like her hair! I’m not watching this movie!” And she stormed off.
Yes, my daughter is one of those white girls that you’re hearing about on social media. While my brain reacted in a lot of different ways, I shoved them all aside for a moment, took a deep breath, and realized that this was just a teachable moment. I took my daughter into her room and we talked for a little while. We talked about Black hairstyles - why cartoon Ariel’s hair wouldn’t work on a Black actress, about friends she had that wore braids themselves - and why representation matters. She nodded along, but I wasn’t sure she totally got it. Thankfully, the internet had my back.
The next day, I was able to show her video after video of Black girls reacting to this new Ariel for the first time. As their eyes lit up, so did hers. I saw the gears in her mind turning into place.
“Wow, they look so happy, mom!”
“Do you see why it’s important to kids that characters that look like them in movies?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s just like Mirabel in Encanto. She has glasses like me. I was sad for a long time because none of the Disney characters had glasses.”
“Right. So while you may feel a little bit sad that Ariel doesn’t look like you, you can see how much bigger the happiness is that these kids are feeling. And isn’t their happiness worth a tiny bit of the disappointment you feel?”
“I’m not disappointed anymore. I’m happy Ariel has braids now. I’m glad those kids get to be happy too, like I was happy about Mirabel.” That last gear settled into place. Click. She got it.
Though our daily work is in the social justice space, it’s sometimes easy to forget about the ocean of racism that we’re all surrounded by. Even as we’re swimming against it, it seeps into our skin and pours out in ways that we’re not even aware of. My daughter is a kind and generous kid, but she didn’t realize that her reaction was wrong. It was just how she felt in that moment.
By taking a deep breath and paying attention - so much of this work is just listening and paying attention - we can correct our own mistakes and our children’s because that’s what we’re supposed to do as parents. My daughter listened to me, but more importantly, she listened to those shouts of joy as those Black children saw Ariel’s face appear on the screen. She understood that this was bigger than her own feelings and was happy to make space for their joy too.
We can have Black elves and dwarves, we can have Black Aarron Burr and Black Spiderman. And not only can we have Black Ariel too, but we need her. White kids need to know that the world is bigger than just their version of it and that there are other perspectives that are just as important. When we ask our kids to scooch over at this proverbial dinner table of life, not only are they willing, but they are happy to do so. We can make room at the table for everyone.