I realize that it will not make me popular to say that I find all things Disney to be highly suspect.
I’m not running for homecoming queen.
I received a grant to go to the American Library Association convention this summer.
I am well and truly happy and excited about this.
So one of the grant committee people said, “Maybe you’ll stay an extra day and go to Disneyland.”
I don’t think so.
I’ve been to Disneyland four times.
Once was when I was three.
I don’t like dolls.
“It’s a Small World”nearly sent me out of the boat.
I did not grow up watching Disney movies, because the only one that my Dad thought was acceptable was Pinocchio. This was back in the day when if you wanted to see a movie you had to see it in a theater or when it came on television.
In a way it was okay that I did not have a lot of Disney exposure. I have no Bambi trauma, because I have never seen Bambi in its entirety.
I did watch The Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday nights. On occasion.
Now that I am a grown up--at least it says so on my Driver’s License--I have even bigger reservations about All Things Disney.
Bah, I say. Bah.
No matter how spirited those Princesses get, they are still guilty of major league gender stereotyping.
It was the twenty-first century before there was an African-American princess.
My nieces love Disney Princesses. They get a lot of Disney Princess stuff.
I'm just Auntie or Tia Sissy, so I don't get a vote on this.
I buy them books that don't have Disney Princesses and movies like National Velvet.
Disneyland is very clean, which is nice. And there are steps in place to discourage gangwear and so on.
But what goes on underneath all that squeaky-cleanness?
What happens when the lights go out?
What lurks in moats?
Do the rigid smiles on all of those dolls turn to something else when the crowds disperse?
Do all of those Plush Costumes and Rubber Faces gambol and gibber in the moonlight?
THAT is the side of Disneyland I would buy a ticket for.