Is Frozen a Feminist Triumph?

Frozen - Feminist Triumph? 


Watch the Honest Trailer...pretty funny! 

Even as a fan of Disney’s recent attempts to create more balanced, less-dependent female characters (Brave, Frozen, Maleficent), I had to laugh at the Frozen Honest Trailer's sarcastic voiceover: “Frozen is a clever twist on past Disney films that teaches girls everywhere that they don’t need a prince to rescue them…because all men are disgusting loners, greedy murderers, or lying manipulative power-hungry sociopaths. Happy now, Jezebel?”

I wouldn’t exactly call Kristoff disgusting, but that aside, I have to agree: I’m not sure I am comfortable calling Frozen a feminist triumph.

The point of feminist filmmaking is not to create one-dimensional, evil male characters responsible for humanity’s downfalls. Yes, men did that to women. Ahem…Eve. Cough...the Wicked Witch of the West. Cough...every female character Hemingway and Steinbeck ever created. 

The point of feminist literature is to try to avoid male-bashing (and woman-bashing, obvi). It’s to bring balance, but not to even the score. 

Can we also talk about Elsa’s sexy ice dress? Why must her awesome ice powers be equated with a slinky, sparkly pageant dress, a push-up bra, and seductive hip movements? And if her powers must be associated with her sexuality, then logically, shouldn’t her powers be babymaking powers? (Ok that goes a little too far…flower-making powers?) Why must her power be life-killing? Is that some kind of subliminal fear of pro-choice dominance?

Sorry. It's only a Disney movie, I know.

Let's get back to ice. I am an English teacher, so indulge me: ice is associated with stunted growth, death, repression of creativity. 

I would argue that the ice-powers Elsa receives as a budding young woman correlate to her sexuality, in the viewer's subconscious. This is why, when Elsa is around eleven, her powers suddenly become shameful and dangerous. That is why her parents "have a talk" with her about concealing the powers with ladylike gloves and the avoidance of humans.

The hands of the patriarchy, stifling Anna's creative power at puberty.

Elsa’s sexuality shows up in the form of ice-throwing and snowmaking rather than life-giving powers like say, tree-creation and climate change reversal why?

I think it is because Disney is still drawn - like a hyptnotized zombie-moth to a flame - to the subliminal degradation of female sexuality.

Through Elsa, Disney makes female sexuality this destructive (yet cool and dangerous) thing. Little girls watching it don't know this, but they do store it up there in their developing minds.

This is why I detest Disney.

"I get it now, male-dominated world. You don't like me to be sexual.
Time to destroy everyone with my repressed powers, then." 

That is how I read into it, anyhow. But I'm just a crazy woman.

Elsa grew to be ashamed and troubled by her sexual energy/ice-throwing abilities, and therefor she became miserable, isolated, and weak.

Her only choice was to “let it go” and stop “being the good girl she always had to be”…so she could do what every girl must do when she awakens sexually: Wear a revealing dress, isolate herself in an ice-castle of shame, shut the world out, and ignore men. Um...what???

I see this as problematic. If feminism is about putting female sexuality into a category, if it’s about saying “either you can be the cute funny loving girl” (Anna) or the “pageant ice-queen” (Elsa)…then don’t call me a feminist.

All of this aside, I loved the ending! Go sisterhood! That was a positive for me. 

A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park

A SINGLE SHARD by LINDA SUE PARK

Critical Rating: 4/5 stars 

Pleasure rating: 4/5 stars

Although the story dragged for me at times, this was a memorable book because of the character depth and the historical detail. The author obviously did her research, and so despite my unfamiliarity with 12th-century Korea, I felt like I was part of the world, and I left the book with an understanding of the morals and conventions of the time and place.

Tree-ear is a compelling, easy-to-adore character, and though the orphan's fate was quite discernible from the start, I enjoyed watching him rise to the challenge of presenting Min's vase. Although it arrived a bit late for me, the moment when Tree-ear had to stand up for himself, I confess, made me shed a tear or two. His journey was a beautiful one, something like Santiago's in The Alchemist or even the Buddha's journey away from home.

The episode about the concubines' suicide was poetic, but a bit disturbing. I think it's important to be honest with kids about what really happened in history, and this and other sections' brutal honesty were admirable. While this and other details felt accurate and well-researched, I am not sure how accurate it is that an orphan could rise through the ranks and become the apprentice of a respected potter in 12th-century Korea. Given the culture's focus on luck, and given the bad luck associated with orphans, it seems more likely that Tree-ear would live a life of poverty. This kept nagging me - I felt that the author was doing a little bit of imposing an American/Western "rags to riches" or "little orphan Annie" framework onto a foreign setting, and something in that felt a bit off.

However, the characters made up for it. I fell in love with Tree-ear's humble attitude, and I found myself wishing that I could see that attitude in more of my own students and peers. Min worked well as a father figure/gatekeeper, and his change toward the end was sweet and felt sincere. I also loved Min's wife; she might have been my favorite minor character! Her little acts of kindness toward Tree-ear serve as a nice reminder to readers that even the smallest gesture can save someone's day - or life!

Far, Far Away by Tom McNeal

Far, Far Away by Tom McNeal 

• Pleasure rating: 4/5
• Critical rating: 3/5
• Would I buy this for a child I know? Knowing kids in the YA range, I feel that this book appeals more to adults.

In a word, this book was...magical.

McNeal's novel has a unique narrative p.o.v. I don't even know what to call it, but it's the selling point:

"Let's see, students, there is first person, third person limited, third person omniscient...oh, and first person ghost omniscient-y." 

Image taken from Amazon.com

The narrator is sort of a Nick Carraway - an off-to-the-side observer - but this guy, unlike good old Nick, is dead. During his life on Earth, he was one of the Brothers Grimm. 

Since the narrator is a ghost, he can see every characters' actions, like an omniscient narrator. On the other hand, his deepest desires are the only ones we are entirely privy to, which makes the narrative p.o.v. more like first person or third limited. He is also very, very close to Jeremy, the protagonist, and so we often get glimpses into Jeremy's wishes and dreams. Confusing, but so cool and creepy.

I now feel that I need a new category for point-of-view lessons: "Let's see, students, there is first person, third person limited, third person omniscient...oh, and first person ghost omniscient." I can see the blank stares now. 

At first I felt put off by this removed-yet-intimate narration, but after a few pages, I was hooked. If you are looking for a unique voice, look no further, and I'll even provide a link to purchase: Purchase FAR FAR AWAY on Amazon here! 

I fell in love with the ghost character himself - his loneliness, his other-worldliness, and his longing to understand "the thing undone"(the thing from his human lifetime preventing him from passing to the other side) kept me in the story. Maybe it says something about me that I was most drawn to the ghost? Hmmm...

While the ghost's narrative arc is pure perfection, the fleshy characters' stories leave something to be desired. Jeremy and Ginger are both too cookie-cutter for me. Ginger is the ever so played out gorgeous, slender chick who helps Jeremy find himself (oh but she is smart! and strong!), and Jeremy is so passive and predictable that at times, it is hard to root for him. Double yawn for the protagonist and leading lady. The peripheral mortals do not leap off the page and surprise me either. I could have predicted most of the fully human characters' endings from far, far away. 

Nonetheless, this book is a winner. It put me to sleep every night for a few weeks, and I mean that as a compliment. It sort of soothes you, like a fairy tale or a lullaby. Magical. The Brothers Grimm would approve. 

No Crystal Stair: Documentary of the Life of a Harlem Bookseller

Hidden Messages: Fight the power; history is not always acurate. 

Pleasure rating: 5/5 stars

Critical rating: 4/5 stars

Would I buy this book for a child I care about? I did! I begged my department chair to purchase a class set, and we are currently reading it in one of my American Lit classes. :) 

In No Crystal Stair, Vaunda Micheaux Nelson acknowledges that her great-uncle Lewis Michaux strove to create a racially balanced middle and upper class. In the novel/documentary of Lewis Michaux's life, this community leader challenges the cultural narrative that blacks should stay relegated to the working class. How does he do this? By opening a bookstore in Harlem. A bookstore with books about and by blacks. 

Sounds innocent enough. But in Civil Rights-era New York, this was very dangerous. As Nelson shows, the FBI had files on her great-uncle, and many whites in power viewed him as a threat to the system. The mayor had what seemed like a campaign to shut this gem of a store down, and Michaux himself was not surprised by this. Friends with leaders like Malcom X, he was no stranger to blatant racism based on white America's fear of black social and intellectual advancement.

Vaunda Michaux Nelson with her award-winning book!

When he creates the National Memorial African Bookstore, Lewis Michaux produces a space for blacks to read “books by black people and about black people” (Nelson). Black readers flock to his store, and as they do, they “affirm what blacks had given to the world…in terms of culture.”  Lewis Michaux’s patrons see that they need not be part of the New York City working class. Many of Lewis’s patrons, such as Calvin, who becomes a doctor, and Snooze, who is inspired to work with children, find their paths because of the bookstore’s “blossoming of…black awareness.”

Michaux empowered his black patrons, motivating them to read works by and about black people in order to be inspired by their multifarious contributions to the world. As Reverend Dr. Charles E. Becknell states in the remembrance section of the book:

“[Black] history and culture is fading away…people like Mr. Michaux…stood for something. They had standards. What are the standards today?” 

Like Michaux’s bookstore, Nelson’s No Crystal Stair teaches readers about their country's history, and compels them to include knowledge of black history into their “standards.”  Nelson’s rendition of her great-uncle’s story could blossom to eternalize Lewis Michaux’s legacy. 

On a critical level, the only issue I had was that Nelson seemed to suggest that intellectualizing the black community, or any community, somehow makes it better. It is not this simple. Historically, it is a white/euro-centric cultural narrative that pulling yourself up by your bootstraps is possible if you are guided by that glowing beacon of light that is knowledge and education. The fact that Nelson aligns herself with this narrative is understandable, but a little troubling. I am not sure we have come far enough in terms of racial equality to say that regardless of race, if you become an intellectual, you become successful. What is success, and why must it be intellectual? 

That said, I hope more schools adopt this text, like mine has. One way to sell the book to a school is that it has many CommonCore-worthy elements. Interslpiced throughout the text are several nonfiction pieces such as Martin Luther King and Malcom X's speeches, personal letters from Michaux's friends, and files from the FBI. It is also an excellent way to discuss metaficton, and to discuss the differences between fiction and nonfiction, biography/autobiography/memior, etc. Nelson does SUCH a fabulous, meticulous job backing up her sources that it could also provide a nice lesson in the importance of documenting the research process - she is a librarian, so it's no wonder she is so good at it! It would also be really good for a history class, as it shows a unique, more common-man persepective on the Civil Rights Movement. 

 Most public school English curricula are whitewashed, and I'm not sure this is a good message to send to any student, and especially a student of color. It's nice when English departments make a conscious effort to change and be more inclusive. Thanks department chair! :) 

For my students: Link to the Langston Hughes' poem "Mother to Son", which inspired Nelson's title! http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/177021

Langston Hughes, Harlem Rennaisance author: 

Malcom X, Black Nationalist leader and minor character in No Crystal Stair: 

Works Cited

Nelson, Vaunda Micheaux. No Crystal Stair. Minneapolis, MN: Carolrhoda Lab, 2012. Print.

Works Referenced

Marx, Karl. “The German Ideology.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. 2^nd ed.  Ed. Rivkin, Julie

            and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 1998. 653-659. Print.

Rivkin, Julie and Michael Ryan. “Introduction: Starting with Zero.” Literary Theory: An

Anthology. 2^nd ed. Ed. Rivkin, Julie and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell

Publishing, 1998. 643-646. Print.

The 100 Dresses: Get Over It and Study, Maddie

THE HUNDRED DRESSES

Hidden Message: It's ok to bully kids, as long as you bottle up your guilt forever and ever, and as long as you remain passive about the whole thing. 

Pleasure rating: 3/5 stars mainly because of the beautiful ilustrations

Critical rating: 1/5 stars

Would I buy it for a child I know?: No. I would not. 

My Message to Maddie: Get Over It and Study Harder

The foreword for The Hundred Dresses reveals that the author, Eleanor Estes, harbored guilt into her adulthood about accepting the bullying of a girl in her hometown. The novel, which centers around Maddie's guilt over not standing up for a bullied child, can therefore be read as Estes’ attempt “to set things right” (A Letter to Readers) decades after her complicity. Estes' characterization of the guilt-ridden Maddie, combined with illustrator Slobodkin's drawings of girls in submissive roles, reveals the implied reader of the text: a compassionate,  guilt-ridden girl who neglects her own well-being for societal approval, just as Maddie does. But she does love fashion, so it's ok. (Barf.)

From the outset, an omnisceint voice narrates that Peggy and Maddie are girls who “sat in the front row with the children who got good marks and didn’t track a whole lot of mud” (Estes 11).  Ok, so naturally, the child reading this will align herself with these two girls, both of whom  end up bullying an autistic immigrant girl named Wanda. (I read Wanda as high-functioning autistic. Thoughts?)

Now, granted, these were different times. Estes published her work in 1906, when bullying and autism weren't even words, I don't think. At least they were not buzz words like they are now. But times change for a reason, so I feel that the readership of this beloved classic should dwindle.

Girls gather around Wanda in mock interest of her "100 dresses", which they know are imaginary. 

When Estes switches from an omniscient to a third person limited point of view, Maddie, the bully who is more passive and less of a leader, suddenly “remembers” and “is bothered by” Wanda’s bullying. Because Maddie’s insights and flashbacks are the only ones that Estes makes available, the reader latches onto Maddie. 

An assertive reader would become frustrated by the inclusion of statements like “eight times eight…let’s see….nothing [Maddie] could do about making fun of Wanda.” 

I mean, excuse me? Um, you could stand up to the ringleader of the bullies, Maddie. Get some pride, kiddo. Also, you could focus on your multiplication tables. 8 x 8 = 64. Come on. 

 Since the reader is supposed to allign herself with Maddie, I see this reluctance to do schoolwork and other comments about the child's internal dialog as very problematic. Maddie’s lack of willpower is bearable to the meek, approval-seeking child reader implied by the text, who could maybe understand why Maddie "tore the [anti-bullying] note she had started into bits.” It's ok to be approval-seeking to some degree, but not if the approval is a of a group of girls who bullied someone relentlessly for her accent and mental/social differences. 

Wanda, the victim of bullying.

Slobodkin’s illustrations of Maddie echo the construction of the reader as not only submissive, but also guilt-ridden to the point of self-neglect. Many of the pictures also characterize Maddie as so consumed with guilt that she cannot pay attention to her studies:

 On the other hand, Slobodkin depicts Peggy, the ringleader bully, as studying hard while Maddie looks around the room with a concerned expression. So, bullies (the villains in this story) are associated with female studiousness and assertiveness. Hmm. I don't like that. At all. 

All of that said, I really did love this book as a kid. Again, I am a little confused as to why. I was a pretty assertive, and a pretty studious child. So I think it is a testament to Estes' writing ability that I sided with Wanda and Maddie and not Peggy. That said, for me, reading this book with a child would  involve a critical discussion about why Maddie sucks. Sorry Estes. Or maybe that's what she wanted, after all.

Peggy, the ringleader bully, depicted as assertive and bold, while Maddie cowers on the far right.

Works Cited

Chambers, Aidan. “The Reader in the Book in Booktalk; Occasional Writing on Literature and

            Children. Children’s Literature.1990. 91-113. Print.

Estes, Eleanor. The Hundred Dresses. New York: Harcourt, Inc. 1944. Print.

Estes, Helen. “A Letter to Readers.” The Hundred Dresses. New York: Harcourt, Inc. 1972.

            Print.

Fish, Stanley. “Interpretive Communities.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. 2nd ed. Ed. Rivkin,

            Julie and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 1998. 418-429. Print.