Is it possible to be disappointed, yet completely unsurprised all at once?
That’s the general feeling among rational people in the wake of the fallout following Disney’s announcement that Halle Bailey will be playing Ariel in the upcoming live-action adaptation of the Little Mermaid.
The revelation that an African American woman would portray the beloved lead was bound to cause waves — pun only slightly intended — and if the vitriol was based on a stubborn resistance to change, that would be one thing.
In fairness, there would probably be a rabid contingent of fans who would lambast the concept of Ariel being, say, a white woman who was blonde, solely because they have this exact vision of what the character ‘should be’.
If only it were so simple.
A quick glance at the trending hashtags on Twitter reveals a phrase that is absolutely dripping with blind hatred, prejudice and ignorance.
I speak, of course, of the #NotMyAriel movement.
The fact that this has caught on with such ferocity is an indictment on society, and just yet another sign that the path towards acceptance is still fraught with the same kind of fear and cowardice we’ve been seeing for centuries.
This woman here? Who has has a proven track record of exceptional vocal talents and a look of innocence and wonderment that absolutely encapsulates what Ariel is about?
She’s not
my Ariel.
My Ariel isn’t black.
It’s ugly and petrifying. When I hear the ‘not my’ prefix, I think of the vociferous rejection of Donald Trump as president, based on his policies, his bigotry, and his demeanour unbefitting of a world leader. Halle Bailey has been rejected for the colour of her skin.
Ask yourself, if you are of the opinion that this casting choice is a mistake, how this can be interpreted any differently?
Some cite reasons that appear pragmatic on the surface, such as ‘historical accuracy’. The Little Mermaid, after all, takes place in Denmark, right? A black mermaid sounds like a farfetched concept, doesn’t it?
The first (and foremost) counterpoint to this, is that we’re arguing the merit of a black mermaid, a fictional species in a fictional story set in what is — get this — a fictional kingdom.
The underwater city of Atlantica? It doesn’t exist, and neither does the seaside kingdom that Prince Eric hails from, a place that also features palm trees and flamingoes. Call me kooky, but neither of those things strike me as particularly Danish.
Do you want to dive further into Little Mermaid lore? According to one 1995 comic, Atlantica was once located above the water and roaming with winged centaurs. Basically, stranger things have happened than mermaids who were not white.
Even if you disregard this from what is considered canon, you’re left with the simple fact; Ariel’s race is inconsequential, because it does not have any influence on her story.
2009’s The Princess and the Frog carries an unspoken but very obvious narrative of racial inequality in New Orleans. There is the affluent white suburb, juxtaposed very early on against the poverty-stricken outskirts, where the populace is predominantly African American.
The ambitious Tiana’s tale of success against the odds is the story of a black woman who fights for her place in a world run by rich white men.
Ariel, on the other hand, is a young lady who wants to break away from her sheltered life and find what is on the other side. The fact that she is female is important, as her struggle is against the well intending but ultimately overbearing patriarchy of her father.
But the fact that she is, or is “supposed to be” white? It doesn’t register at all. Nor should it.
Disney’s checkered past with race is something that we’re all well aware of. There’s a reason why Dumbo or Peter Pan don’t hold up so well, and let’s not even get started on the slippery slope that is Sunflower.
But something worth considering is that colour has also proven to be an indicator of villainy. Ursula, Maleficent and even Scar are the other. Their visual appearances differ from the norm, and in this way, we are given an immediate cue that their ideals may not be in line with our own.
There’s blemishes all over the place, and whatever motivation Disney had for their choice for the treasured princess of the Little Mermaid, Bailey’s casting should serve as a refreshing reminder of how far we have come.
But we’ve got long to go.
That much has been proven by #NotMyAriel, a disgusting war cry that demands that we keep our white characters white and our pure visions pure.
That kind of segregation had no place in the world fifty years ago, and it has no place now. So take a deep breath, check your privilege, and maybe, just for once, wait and see how things pan out before fanning the flames of hysteria?
