RIP equality

So last week we waved goodbye to Margaret Thatcher and some people were, predictably, more thrilled at the occurrence than others.  Reactions to her passing seemed to vary; some were literally dancing in the street, others were openly venerating her and talking about what a fantastic person she was, whilst others just couldn’t give a shit.

I have to admit that I did actually watch bits of the funeral.  Whilst I cannot claim to be her biggest fan (OK, I thought that in many ways she was an absolute disaster for this country and for the working classes in particular), I found it interesting from a modern history point of view.  I also like to see where my taxes are going and since I was generous enough to contribute to the funeral fund I thought I should at least show some interest.  By contribute I mean that part of my taxes had been creamed off in order to pay for the anger inspiring vomit fest.  I’m still not entirely sure why I was forced to contribute towards the funeral of somebody I didn’t even know or like.  If you ask me (and nobody did), it should have been something that was conducted in private for her family, friends and colleagues rather than as a grand media circus.

I haven’t actually been to or witnessed that many funerals but I couldn’t help but note the contrast.  The limited number I have attended have been simple affairs in a church or a crematorium with very little fuss.  I know that this is probably going to be the same for my own goodbye.  I certainly won’t be hauled onto a gun carriage and paraded through the streets of London accompanied by police and members of the armed forces.  David Dimbleby won’t be narrating my coffin’s progress or interviewing my friends and colleagues about what a wonderful person I was.  I won’t have flags flown at half mast or an adoring public clapping as I make my final journey.  In short, nobody will give a shit because not being pretty, rich, powerful or famous, I am just not that important.  I am just a number and when I finally do give up the ghost not that much will change as a result. 

We tell children that everyone is important but the older I get the more I realise that this clearly is not so.  We have had governments that will happily surrender tax payers’ money to fund lavish royal weddings and lavish funerals for royals and ex prime ministers, whilst allowing ordinary people to die of cold and lack of food.  All around us, the poor and disabled are dying because of cuts to benefit and the disgusting prices being charged by greedy utility companies.  Yet, very few people are out on the streets bewailing their deaths.  The BBC are not reporting on their suffering with the same vigour as they did the royal wedding or the death of the queen mother.  One would almost think that, unlike the parasitic royals and evil politicians, these people do not matter.  

When I’m Big I Want to be a Pwincess

I think I may be having a mid-youth crisis.  Having suddenly realised that I am inching ever closer to 30, I have suddenly found myself in a desperate bid to reclaim my idyllic childhood by gobbling through endless plates of jelly, flicking through photos of family fun days out (what was I wearing) and stocking up on Disney films.  I realise that as a feminist, this poses a problem.  Behind all the sparkle, magic and catchy tunes lurks a negative message and that is that girls and women need men.  We need them to help us to escape from whatever hardship life has thrown at us and to elevate us to a position where we will never have to worry about evil stepmothers, poverty or wicked witches ever again.  All we have to be is beautiful, feminine and charming.  Things that the “average” girl or woman doesn’t believe that she is or can ever be, which leads to low self esteem. 

Sooo...this leads to a conundrum, particularly for a feminist.  On the one hand, these films are well put together, beautifully crafted masterpieces that offer some escapism in dreary times.  Yet, on the other, they peddle a belief that a girl’s sole ambition should be to marry a prince and become a princess.  Not exactly a teaching that is in line with feminist thinking, which centres around a woman being independent, self sufficient and appreciated for her capabilities and achievements rather than her physical beauty.  After all, most girls and women are not Disney princess material so what do they do?  Oh that’s easy.  We go to university, study hard and get jobs as doctors, teachers, solicitors, librarians, journalists, business leaders and scientists.  Some of us may even get married/ enter into civil partnerships and procreate.  Others may adopt, cohabit or remain single.  We may have once dreamed of being Ariel or Belle but life, common sense and lack prancing ability intervened and we decided to try and be something more sensible, such as meteorologists, estate agents and call centre workers.  No longer can we envision jamming along with singing crabs and happy woodland animals (not without a ready supply on hallucinogens and my employer tends to frown on this sort of thing).  True, some facets of the Disney experience have carried through into real, adult life.  There are still evil villains (otherwise known as the Conservative party) just begging to be defeated and lured into a fiery pit.  However, many of us have already come to terms with the fact that there is no handsome prince to rescue us from the drudgery of everyday life and that even if there was, he probably wouldn’t be interested in us.  Sigh.

Are we disappointed?  Obviously, I can’t speak for every woman ever.  I am guessing that most women are probably not too disappointed in the lack of a two dimensional poser with a blinding Colgate smile.  Furthermore, those princess dresses look tight and uncomfortable.  Such a far cry from our comfortable dungarees and summer dresses! 

So is Disney harmful?  I really don’t know.  Certainly, the message that in order to achieve anything in life a woman must be beautiful, is harmful.  We live in a world where beautiful women are celebrated over and above women who have contributed to fields such as science, politics, art, literature, law, business, technology, sociology and medicine.  If you don’t believe me, try this simple test: ask a random sample of people who Marilyn Monroe is.  Then ask the same person who Anita Roddick/ Harriet Harman/ Anne Lister/ Constance Briscoe/ Rita O’Grady/ Marie Curie/ Emily Davidson are.  I can guarantee that more people will be able to tell you who Marilyn Monroe is, whilst comparatively few will be able to tell you who the others are.  This is despite the fact that these are all women who have contributed immensely to their own field and to the wider world.  Furthermore, these are strong women and examples of people who we should want our daughters to emulate.  Yet, they are not celebrated as they should be.  As children we look for people to look up to and emulate.  We can only look up to those we know about.  Young boys have their male role models in footballers, business leaders and politicians.  Young girls have models, actresses and Disney princesses.  That is it.  Every other female role model is kept away from them or ridiculed as being unfeminine and unnatural.  Therefore, young girls look to those examples of womanhood that are accepted and celebrated in the hope that they too will be accepted and celebrated.  I would argue that the existence of Disney is not harmful in itself.  However, when you combine it with the severe LACK of representation of strong women within society, you do have a very dangerous situation indeed.