Skin, scales and the ocean kaleidoscope

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In the past couple of weeks, there’s been a large amount of controversy stirred up over Disney’s decision to cast African American actress Halle Bailey in the role of Ariel for their live-action version of The Little Mermaid.

These are just a sampling of the comments that have been made:

“Do you think Disney producers asked for a ginger but the casting director was dyslexic?”

“I don’t think she’s gonna be able to brush her hair with a fork this time.”

“Real talk. Can she even get her hair wet?”

“Does it make sense to have a race of people who can’t swim represent a mermaid?”

And there’s at least one Facebook group calling for a boycott of Bailey.

A Billboard magazine article earlier this week quoted the movie’s director, Rob Marshall, as responding to the outright racism, saying, “…that apart from Bailey having a ‘glorious singing voice,’ she also ‘possesses that rare combination of spirit, heart, youth, innocence and substance’ that are the ‘intrinsic qualities necessary to play this iconic role.’”

Setting aside subtle sexism and racism, Tiana, the lead character in Disney’s The Princess and the Frog, was their first run at breaking the stereotype that a princess can’t be black. And, let’s face it, neither Mulan nor Pocahontas so much as breathed on a crown.

I enjoy the story of Disney’s version of The Little Mermaid. For what it is.

It’s certainly not the original Hans Christian Andersen fairytale. In that 1837 version, mermaids didn’t have souls, and the only way to grow one was to marry a human man who would love the mermaid more than anything. As payment for her legs, the sea witch cuts out Ariel’s tongue.

No, this is the story of a girl who longs to have something she has been told she can’t have. Because she was born a certain way.

I’ll repeat that: Because she was born a certain way.

Supposedly, she can’t change it, can’t hide it, can’t make it go away.

So, here we are as a nation, telling a young woman she can’t have something because she was born a certain way. There is nothing in Disney’s story that requires Ariel to have pale skin and red hair. Look up the science on deep sea animals, and depending on how deep they are, what pops up are fish and such ranging from translucent skin to colorful or brown and cream scales. (See what I did there?) We’re constantly telling girls they can accomplish anything they set their minds to, choose any career they want, be as smart as and use the brains they are born with.

Yet Bailey is being told hypocritically she can’t have something because her skin is the wrong color, her hair the wrong texture and apparently has no inherent skill at swimming.

Bailey in the role of Ariel is a major win for little girls; the character can continue to inspire as a more enduring role model. Whether Ariel is white, green, brown or purple with red, blonde or black hair, requires mechanical assistance to swim or not, and has a bizarre obsession with forks and thingamajigs, she appeals to a vast number of girls around the globe. Disney’s choice of actress makes her relatable to more than one demographic of girls.

I was a little girl once, inspired by my favorite characters in books and films. The Little Mermaid is one of my Disney favorites, and I am intensely looking forward to enjoying the live-action version. The story still inspires me, and the type of mermaid — or the color of her skin and scales — has nothing to do with it.