Why A Jamaican Girl Can’t Be A Disney Princess
A Look Into The Mother-Daughter Dynamic In The Jamaican Home
The black Jamaican family structure sees an emphasis on the importance of a biological matriarch, be it a mother, grandmother, and in some cases, even a great grandmother, who runs the household. To a great extent, we can say this is caused by patriarchy, and from that, we can look at the influences of colonialism and slavery in furthering these ideals. Traditionally, in the Caribbean, and Jamaica, in particular, it is said that the woman runs the house while the man finances it, (terribly misogynistic but, we move). This stance in the Jamaican context has given rise, over the ages, to the matrifocal home structure, which, as I defined earlier, is a home headed by a matriarch.
As a child, cable television provided an escape into a whole new world in my small island home. Tsk, the media. One of the most effective instruments of globalization, as it made things seem so accessible, but so inaccessible at the same time. Walt Disney’s pictures, for sure, had a great impact on me and have stuck longer with me than one would initially think. Their ability to provide entertainment in those short, fleeting moments as a child, and their ability to help us understand some of life’s challenges during adulthood, is something I often think about. That consistent duality is quite interesting when you think about it, especially considering the perspectives of young black Jamaican women.
A lot of children these days will have to be told about DVDs and VCRs, while I can simply remember my experience using alcohol or the vapor from my mouth to clean the DVD and the videotape respectively. I remember my Mom having to do just that so that I could watch some of the older Walt Disney movies. This was around the first time when I watched shows such as Snow White and the 7 Dwarves, Cinderella, and all those pictures with princesses who presented a particular way, i.e. white. As I grew older, conversations with themes surrounding race and color became more prominent when speaking about Walt Disney’s pictures. However, it wasn’t until I read it the other day, that I realized that most of the storylines in Disney films were void of a biological mother.
Typically Disney movies will have the death of the biological mother prior to the start of the film or during the film. In other instances, there may be mother figures such as the stepmother, foster mother, or older sibling who took care of the children, including the Disney princess. This was intentional apparently, as Walt Disney lost his Mom at a very young age, and by way of that, his trauma became a motif in his stories. I guess I can make an assumption that possibly, (just a thought but), that’s why a Jamaican girl doesn’t have her own Disney Princess.
Back to my initial point about Jamaican daughters not relating to Disney princesses. Yes, I know it’s not just because of that. I know there are several other things affecting these story developments, including, American exceptionalism, racism, third-world-ism, or simply the fact that there isn’t enough Caribbean representation in these spaces. But let’s give them the benefit of the doubt. Let’s say that Walt Disney’s trauma turned trope, was the reason why Sebastian was the only thing closest to the Caribbean in a Walt Disney picture.
If a Jamaican girl were to be a Disney princess, she’d definitely identify with Cinderella. I mean Brandy already played the Black Cinderella but, was she Jamaican? No. Would it make a difference? Highly likely. You see, a lot of Jamaican daughters have been, in some way, affected by what is called the “Cinderella Complex”. The “Cinderella Complex” was theorized by Collete Dowling in her book “Cinderella Complex” (1981). Her book detailed, funny enough, the experience of a lot of traditional Jamaican mothers, the unconscious fear of taking care of themselves, the Cinderella Complex. People who are often influenced by this complex identify with Cinderella as a character who is beautiful, smart, well regarded as the fairest in the land, but stuck in a vulnerable state. And, much like Cinderella, they “need” a man to save them from their misfortune and then live happily ever after. Traditional mothers do not always believe in self-sufficiency and often push for their daughters to live life as if preparing for the debutante season. If we’re looking at it from this perspective, a Jamaican girl could be Disney royalty, but does the end justify the means? I think not.
But how does the Jamaican girl differ from the Walt Disney trope? Sireka, one of my favorite writers, in an ode to her mother, captured one of the most integral bonding scenarios of a Jamaican mother and daughter, the combing of her hair on Sunday night, in her poem “Sunday Night Rituals”. These are the moments when tradition and customs are shared most, between a mother and daughter, during her formative years. From the proper way to make the rice and peas (for themselves) to the way to soothe menstrual cramps, a respectable and caring mother is needed to impart that knowledge. We see in Disney pictures, most times, the lack of this. We see where princesses are often left to fend for themselves or have to cleave to a stand-in “mother figure”. As such, we can see that once again, Jamaican daughters are unable to relate to the Disney princess because of the level of bonding which exists between both women.
While listening to an episode of “Like A Real Book Club” a podcast produced by the beautiful, driven, and smart Jamaican women over by Rebel Women Lit (*INSERTS FIRE EMOJIS*), I was reintroduced to the character Margot, from “Here Comes The Sun”, a Caribbean novel by Nicole Dennis-Benn, who uses her words to tell the stories of survival of Jamaican women. One of her themes in this novel was the Jamaican mother-daughter dynamic, and how often, when Jamaican mothers do things out of survival, it hurts their child. In a lot of situations, the mother uses the need to survive as a justification and stands resolute with their choices. This may result in pent-up resentment as the choices could be considered selfish. For example, the notion that “I’m not talking about this with you because I’m protecting you” is something that is very popular within Jamaican parental relationships. This sometimes gives children the idea that they’re being cast aside or in a metaphorical sense “left orphaned” or in this case “motherless”. Taking that into consideration, we could possibly see a Disney Princess with this storyline.
One of the purposes of this article was to cause you to think about the complex and under-told stories of Caribbean women, which don’t get to mainstream media. Are they unworthy of grace and happily ever afters? Are Caribbean women not allowed to dream? Caribbean women deserve to be at the center of stories that allow them to escape gender roles and societal expectations. They deserve to be more than mothers and managers of a household. Caribbean women deserve to be royalty. And I mean that in the most unhotep way possible.
