Snow White is Not a Political Figure

In college, our professors explained how folklore and fairy tales are essential to the cultural transmission of any society, which is why, at least in oral tradition, many of the plots and characters that have survived in present-day pre-date the Bronze Age. The lessons and archetypes connect us not only with each other through shared experiences but also provide insight into our societal beliefs and values.

As we explicated their plots, we noted the pronounced sexism of prescribed gender roles and how values were instilled in children through the use of fear. In other words, the fairy tales I had cherished as a child had been damaging not only to my human psyche but to my self-image as a female: I had learned to live for rescue from a male under the stifling patriarchy. I would nod in class. As a dual major in literature and women’s studies, I heard about patriarchy daily. I’m not diminishing its damage; it’s just that I always found lived experiences to be far more instructive than theoretical ones.

My mother, widowed at 38, had raised three children alone and pretty successfully. She certainly had not waited for the rescue of any kind. Instead, she reorganized the household tasks for her children, streamlined meals by prepping on weekends, and relied on me, at age thirteen, to write out the household bills so she could manage a second job.

Another thirteen-year-old, my maternal grandmother, boarded a ship off the west coast of Ireland and traveled to New York City where she began work as a nanny to a wealthy family on the Upper East Side. I never viewed the females around me as passive or in need of rescue. In fact, years later, childhood friends have told me that my mom was a fairly formidable presence in their lives as she was a perceptive and powerful force. (Meaning, she was the only mom who caught us in just about every teenage shenanigan that we tried)

But I authored those college papers in alignment with the somewhat forced interpretations of my professors while secretly still loving the transformative theme of Cinderella, the retribution of Snow White, the vengeance of the children in Red Riding Hood, and the escape of Rapunzel. I had grown up on these stories; they had formed the foundation of learning to trace a narrative arc and, in large part, my love of reading and my eventual decision to major in literature. Writing about how they had damaged children felt like a betrayal to the characters that I considered friends and the stories I had — and still — loved. Admittedly, I liked receiving A’s more than being true to my imaginary fairy tale world, so I wrote papers damning evil queens and the systemic misogyny of focusing on beauty as a primary value.

Now, along comes Disney, attempting to revitalize Snow White’s story. I cannot fathom why they thought casting an actress who is half Colombian for the title role when the paleness of the protagonist’s skin is a major component of the story. If it’s an attempt at inclusion, it’s half-hearted because Rachel Zegler is also half-Polish, which makes her as much of European descent as she is of Latin.

Is Disney trying to “remedy” the idea that pale skin can be beautiful? Do we not remember that the idea of her pale skin is symbolic of her innocence and her purity? Or is she named Snow White because she and her parents — and the first readers of the tale — were Europeans from centuries ago, not yet aware of identity politics? She had skin like they most likely did, which is not to say they wouldn’t have seen beauty in darker skin tones had they ever seen them. The world was not yet a global village when these stories were written.

Zegler has made comments that she found the original plot of Snow White to be “weird” and “outdated.” Well, yes, it is outdated. The same can be said for most historical literature. The tales were written primarily for illiterate people, many of them children. The Brothers Grimm published the tale in 1812, in German, titled Sneewittchen (Snow White). The plot may be even older than that.

Graham Anderson discusses parallels between the story of Snow White and the ancient Roman legend of Chione, recorded in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. In Greek, Chione means “Snow,” and the titular woman is said to be the most beautiful in the land. Two powerful gods, Apollo and Mercury, fall deeply in love with her. Chione is a mortal woman who boasts that her beauty is even greater than that of the goddess Diana. This angers Diana to the point that she shoots an arrow through Chione’s tongue, killing her.

While this is a more graphic, less happy ending story, the elements found in ancient myth are present in fairy tales, as literature is a mirror of all of us. It explains why these plots have survived the ages.

And that is what perturbs me so much about this remake: taking a European tale that has roots in a plot stemming from the ancient world and tweaking it as a vehicle to display your broad-minded inclusion is plain ludicrous.

When reviewers point to the “non-consensual” kiss given to Snow White by the prince, I must step in and say, Stop, please, just all of it, Stop… It’s a story. It’s old. Stories have symbolism. The kiss is a metaphor for healing; the gesture is not molestation: it’s meant to show the sleeping girl that love can bring change and in the original story, that kiss literally saves her life. It’s a hopeful idea.

Race-switching a main character does not add any comprehensive understanding of a culture. It’s a nod to a political agenda Disney wants to satisfy. I can almost hear one of the executives thinking, “Get those annoying DEI people not to complain,” and casting a human virtue signal in the form of a not entirely European actress to show that they are an inclusive entity.

It didn’t work. The film has largely been panned and its failure will most likely cost Disney millions as the numbers continue to disappoint.

I do think there is limited scope in the Disney formula. It’s inherently racist to continually rely on stories that stem entirely from European tales. Why remake only them? While these tales are timeless, and I am not diminishing their value in any way, they are not the only stories worthy of screen presence.

Take, for example, the Colombian children’s story, Zoro. Jairo Aníbal Niño writes poetically of the adventures of a jungle boy who travels with an older man and a “tente” bird, a tall, flightless creature with white feathers and feet shaped like shovels. The boy’s quest is to find his people. Along his journey he meets a glass tiger who sings, and giants with the skin of glass. He makes friends with an ice eagle and encounters two travelers from the Sun.

Imagine how amazingly Zoro could come to life on the screen with a Disney budget. With a jungle backdrop and imaginative creatures, Disney could create a film that follows an exhilarating plot that captivates children, ignites their imaginations, and does not let its entertainment value be overshadowed by its ideology.