If Kanye were a Disney Princess…

Written by the WATP Collective

Lovestruck by objects that float down from the world above her own, Ariel is a princess of naive curiosity, at best, and at worst, a materialistic view of the world. She is endearing in her ability to accumulate a lot of junk without harboring any emotional baggage. She doesn’t have regrets; she doesn’t fear the unknown. Rather, she gathers various artifacts with reckless abandon. She marvels at her possessions, singing of the insatiability of her desire:

I’ve got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty

I’ve got whozits and whatzits galore

You want thingamabobs? I’ve got twenty!

But who cares? No big deal, I want more

Kanye West is also forthright about his acquisitive urges. His music is a bittersweet ode to his pursuit of shiny, new things. He raps, with bravado:

I wanna act ballerific like it’s all terrific

I got a couple past-due bills, I won’t get specific

I got a problem with spending before I get it

We all self-conscious, I’m just the first to admit it

Young Kanye, an artsy church kid from Chicago whose passion for music eventually exposes him to the blingy world of hip hop, finds himself living on the periphery of other people’s greatness. Similar to Ariel, who can only swim to the surface to marvel at grand ships that pass her by, Kanye eventually grows tired of being overshadowed by larger-than-life rappers that drift in and out of the music studio.

Craving the full warmth of the limelight, Kanye tries to reinvent himself by grasping at remnants of fame. Just as Ariel, a collector, develops a treasure trove from the odds and ends that fall overboard, Kanye, a synthesizer, builds a shrine of samples, fashioning his career from the reclaimed bits and pieces of other people’s songs.

Each passing ship drops a new object for Ariel to study, and each new encounter brings a new creative identity for Kanye to explore. Young Kanye looks up to music and wants to be a rapper, Rapper Kanye looks up to fashion and wants to be a designer, Designer Kanye looks up to Jesus and wants to be a messiah, and so on. His story, like his lyrics, can be boiled down to the grasping at the shiny things that float into his consciousness.

Ariel’s discontentment with her position under the sea feeds her hopes for the of the world on land.

Flipping your fins, you don’t get too far

Legs are required for jumping, dancing

Betcha on land they understand

Bet they don’t reprimand their daughters

Unlike Mulan and Merida from Brave, who embark on journeys marked by heroism and sacrifice, Ariel’s misadventures are orchestrated purely by self-interest. Her tragedy, like her reasoning, is simple.

For someone surrounded by water, Ariel is awfully thirsty. She trades her status, sound, and soul for a brief foray into Prince Eric’s world. She does not face devious treachery, a poisonous apple, nor an enchanted needle. There is nothing to blame but her own decision. She chooses to leave her family behind forever, and agrees to belong to Ursula if she fails to win Eric’s affection. The conditions of Ariel’s trade are clearly spelled out: her voice for some legs.

Likewise, Kanye knows the tradeoff:

We’ll buy a lot of clothes when we don’t really need em

Things we buy to cover up what’s inside

Cause they make us hate ourself and love they wealth

However, when given the choice, he always goes for the legs.

Both Kanye and Ariel, albeit jestingly, comment on their lack of knowledge of the worlds they are desperate to inhabit.

Rollies and Pashas done drove me crazy

I can’t even pronounce nothing, pass that Vers-ay-chee!

This is the problem with working from scraps: it forces one to live in a patchwork of incompleteness.

Strolling along down a — what’s that word again? Street!

Habitually looking up provides Kanye and Ariel with a uniquely grand sense of possibility. However, it robs them of the ability to develop a mature understanding of functionality. Ariel misidentifies a fork as a brush during dinner with Prince Eric; Kanye doesn’t know the function of a dress, sending unfinished hems down the runway of his fashion show.

Fame, for Kanye, is both King Triton, a protective father who only wants Ariel to play her role under the sea, and Aunt Ursula, who presents Ariel with the opportunity to transcend her circumstances — at a cost. Kanye is pulled between those who want to keep him in a box, making beats for others in the studio, and those who champion his non-musical ambitions, even though it means sacrificing his personal growth. Adidas wants Yeezys but won’t invest in Yeezus, and Ursula couldn’t care less if Ariel survives on land.

Ariel and Kanye, big dreamers and talented artists, idealize the wrong things. The key is loving yourself, not their wealth.

Imagine being so dissatisfied with yourself that you change your appearance, or sacrifice the thing that makes you special, for acceptance. You probably have been. In some situations, we’re obsessed with fitting in; in others, we’re desperate to stand out. “Now, tell me that ain’t insecurr.” We think fame will bring validation, satiation. We think that the up-times will come when we’re looking down at adoring fans, or finally meet that dream partner. We’ll finally be seen. Waiting for the perfect conditions, swayed by whatever comes our way, we’re floating, unanchored. We keep falling back into this way of thinking, even when we’re proved wrong. We see ourselves in Kanye and Ariel.