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nce upon a time, in a land far, far away, things had not ended so happily-ever-after. What they don’t tell you is that once the fairytale ends, real life begins, and that real life is not always the Technicolor wonderland you were promised. Cinderella, at least, was seriously beginning to regret marrying a guy she’d danced with one time, for one hour, at one stupid ball. Had they even had a conversation between the gooey glances and perfectly timed waltz? She couldn’t remember. In fact, she couldn’t remember much besides him sliding that uncomfortable glass slipper onto her foot the next day, and the utter relief washing over as she realized that finally, finally, she was getting away from her evil step-mother. Bitter old hag.
Cinderella could admit that she hadn’t had the greatest ambitions in life, but part of her had hoped there might be more than this—more than being beautiful, more than being a wife and mother, more than wearing ball gowns and sewing all day. Prince Charming wasn’t a bad guy, exactly, but he wasn’t much more than a pretty face. Sometimes, she yearned to run from all the luxury that surrounded her, the condescending advisers and statesmen who told her what lovely eyes she had but never asked her how she thought her kingdom should be run, the corsets that left her gasping for breath, and most especially, Charming himself. He barely spoke to her when they were alone, and always rolled his eyes when she begged him for books.
“Whatever for?” he chuckled, stroking her hair fondly. “Books are men’s business, my darling.”
Not that you’ve ever read any yourself, Cinderella always managed to bite back, hiding her irritation behind her usual sweet smile.
Despite her longing for more, Cinderella had been told ever since she had risen above her dire circumstances that it was her beauty, kindness, and penchant for household chores that had earned her a “happy” ending. Like the rest of the women who lived in the super-classy Ever After Estates, she had been a selfless, naïve virgin, deserving of all the riches and protection a handsome prince could offer. Why, Ariel, who lived three doors down in the Sea-Side Mansion, had been a fragile little thing when she’d first arrived, tricked into becoming a human by the evil seawitch Ursula. Ariel still smelled a little fishy sometimes, in Cinderella’s humble opinion, but she was a pretty girl with a lovely voice and good intentions.
Some of the other princes’ mothers—collectively known by the princesses as the Mothers—considered the redhead to be a tad too reckless, a trait flawed enough to put her in the same league as Belle on occasion. At least Ariel still merited an invitation to the weekly knitting circle. Belle had been shunned years before when it was revealed that instead of sending out a search party for her father, she herself had set out to find him, and thus been captured by her once-bestial husband and his army of talking appliances. Ridiculous girl, murmured the Mothers. Who in her right mind would long for adventure in the great, wide somewhere when she had that lovely Gaston fellow waiting to take care of her, two minutes from her house? Pity that Beast killed him. Disgraceful!
Granted, there wasn’t much the Mothers didn’t find unsuitable when it came to how women should behave. No exercise. No independence. No free will. No emotions except for kindness, generosity. And heaven forbid a girl be anything less than absolutely beautiful! The age-old saying goes, “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” Never were truer words spoken in this case—the Mothers were the most powerful force around when it came to how the princesses conducted their affairs. Poor Belle had been the first victim, but she certainly wouldn’t be the last. They’d run out Jasmine barely an hour after she and Aladdin had arrived to Ever After Estates…something about how she had dared to argue with her husband, and his subsequent refusal to care about her temper.
Personally, Cinderella liked Belle more than she let on to Charming’s mother. Belle, to put it in a rather un-princess-like manner, didn’t take crap from anybody—not even her husband. She read things. She wanted to travel. Cinderella herself had always planned to get around to seeing the Pyramids, though she’d never admit it aloud. Belle was just more interesting than, say, Snow White. Lovely girl, but dumb as a stump. Honestly, the way she carried on—her incessant dusting and chirruping could sicken even the goodliest of people: and believe you me, Cinderella was as goodly as they get.
Snow White’s castle was more like an oversized cottage than anything, surrounded by flowering trees no matter the season, and populated by seven whistling dwarfs, several overly-cheery children, and Snow White’s husband, Prince Charming II, distantly related to Cinderella’s own Charming IV. Everyone avoided walking past if they could help it—the moment Snow White spotted you, she’d drag you inside for tea and cakes and talk your ear off for a few hours about this and that. Cinderella was beginning to regret inviting her to the secret margarita mixer she’d decided to host. If there was anyone less likely to revolt against patriarchal society in any of its many forms, it was Snow White.
To be fair, Cinderella herself wasn’t sure how she felt about what she was planning to discuss with her neighbors. There was something decidedly wrong about women meeting to discuss something other than their families, sewing, and the latest neighborhood gossip—not that the others knew the intended direction of the meeting. Cinderella had considered enlisting Belle’s help, but she feared it might be too hardcore even for the girl who’d braved wolves and Heaven knew what else in the deep, dark woods surrounding her castle. Just as Cinderella was considering canceling the meeting she’d had in the works for weeks, there was a tap on the door. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, before she swept her skirts to the side and rose from her seat on the couch.
They had arrived.
* * *
As usual, Aurora was dozing by the time Cinderella had finished mixing drinks. Ever since the accident with the spinning wheel, the poor girl had been constantly fatigued, narcoleptic, almost. Ariel was eyeing Aurora from her perch on the sofa, arms folded across her stomach.
“Somebody wake her,” Cinderella sighed, nodding towards Sleeping Beauty. “Belle? Could you—?”
Belle shook out her long, dark curls, leaning down and prodding Aurora in the side of the head.
“So,” Ariel cut in, “did you hear about your Evil Step-Mother, Cinderella? I heard her life sentence in the Deepest Pits of the Darkest Depths of Despair has been extended another century.”
“My mother-in-law told me, yes,” Cinderella said, feeling a twinge of sadness. “Doesn’t that seem a little…well, harsh to you? I mean, true, she made me do chores and wouldn’t let me go to the ball, but it’s not as if she starved me or anything like that.”
“Oh, but of course she deserves it,” Snow White chirruped, sipping the tea from a delicate china cup she’d brought with her. “A woman who is not humble, obedient, deserving, and kind—why, that’s a woman who belongs in the Deepest Pits, don’t you agree?” The bluebird that followed Snow White everywhere she went twittered its concurrence.
“Who says all women should be like that, though?” Belle demanded, raising a brow and accepting a martini from Cinderella. “You?”
“No, silly!” Snow White giggled. “Everybody knows that. And women who…well, who aren’t like us—those aren’t people I’d ever want to be caught dead with!”
“I’m not saying I love my Evil Step-Mother or anything, but come on. She’s a human being. She was a…well, a you-know-what, but she doesn’t deserve everlasting torture. I mean, why couldn’t I have stood up to her a little? Maybe that’s all it would have taken.”
“Oh, it wasn’t your fault, Cinderella,” Snow White assured her, patting her hand sincerely. “You were a good girl.”
Cinderella heaved a sigh.
“Actually, that’s why I’ve called you all together today,” she admitted, joining Belle and Ariel on the couch with her martini. “To talk about how all of us were ‘good girls’ and why I’m really, really tired of that.”
“But I don’t understand,” Aurora blurted out. “Weren’t we supposed to have our weekly stitching session?”
“Forget about that,” Cinderella said impatiently. “That’s not important. I’m here to talk about…” She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the worst. “…Feminism.”
There was a beat of silence in which everyone stared at her, mouths half open. Even Belle looked taken aback.
“Cinderella,” Ariel said softly, at long last, “you shouldn’t speak of such things.”
“It’s suicide,” agreed Aurora. “If we’re caught—”
“Let them catch us!” Belle piped up, a slow smile spreading across her face. Snow White and her bluebird simultaneously gasped in horror, stricken. “Oh, shut up. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We’ll surely be thrown into the Pits,” Aurora said, nodding firmly. “We’re not supposed to think about anything but our newfound happiness.”
“But are any of us actually happy?” Cinderella demanded, looking around from one princess to the next. “Or is it just a façade? Snow White, you can’t tell me those dwarves you take care of don’t drive you up the wall sometimes. And Aurora, when was the last time you got to visit your Godmothers? Ariel, how long has it been since you saw your family? I mean, you haven’t been to the shore in ages! Belle, you can’t be happy, stuck in that castle all day, even with your books! What happened to adventure?” Cinderella gazed around beseechingly. “We have to do something. We have to rise above this.” The women gazed back at her, blinking in confusion, but no one disagreed with any of her points.
“And what is ‘this’?” Aurora asked, folding her arms and frowning.
“Being Disney princesses,” Cinderella announced. More shocked silence, this time accompanied by Snow White primly setting down her tea cup, delicate hands trembling with some unidentifiable emotion.
“There is nothing wrong with that at all,” Snow White announced. “We set a good example for young girls. We…we provide them with dreams and entertainment and stories they will pass on to their children and their children’s children, and—”
“What kind of example are we setting, exactly?” Belle asked, her voice shaking a little. Cinderella saw that her hands were clenched into fists. “ ‘Hey girls, just sit around and do nothing, and then you too can be saved by a prince in shining armor and pop out a kid or two!’ Is that all we’re worth?”
“You can’t expect the children to take our stories to heart,” Aurora said, looking from one fuming princess to the other pleadingly. “I mean, for all the little girls know, they’re just stories! Why should it affect them at all?”
“Girls are underrepresented in kids’ stories as it is,” Cinderella pointed out. “We all look for examples of what’s ‘right’ in society when we’re young, from our parents to our teachers…to the movies we watch. There is absolutely no reason why Disney movies that tell stories like ours wouldn’t influence the way little girls see themselves, especially when there’s not much to choose from anyway.”
“What you’re suggesting is ludicrous!” cried Snow White. “There are worse examples children could find. Why, what if they were to follow the path of female villains, such as my Evil Step-Mother, or yours? Come now, Cinderella, use your brain! Wouldn’t you rather children followed in our footsteps than theirs?”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t,” Belle snapped, slamming down her martini glass. “Good God, why on earth would I want any child to be like you? You’re a brainwashed product of the patriarchal society that’s dominated you since your creation in 1937. I’d rather my daughter be more like your Evil Step-Mother, or, say, Maleficent, any day.” Belle nodded at Sleeping Beauty, winking. “She was great, wasn’t she? Talk about kicking ass and taking names!”
“Listen to yourselves!” shrieked Snow White. “How could you dare suggest that little girls would be better off as villains? This is close to blasphemy!”
“Against what? The Almighty Walt Disney?’ Belle laughed mockingly. “Listen: all the traits villainesses possess that are demonized are actually not things we should be so quick to turn from! Ambition? Strong will? A mind of one’s own? Desire for power? The ability to save yourself? I’m talking about getting off your ass and doing something about your own situation, for God’s sake! How many of you fought back, huh? How many of you told your Evil Step-Mother exactly where she could stick that broom of hers? Snow White, did you ever think that maybe accepting an apple from a creepy old hag wasn’t the wisest of ideas? Ariel, what in God’s name ever made you think making bargains with evil sea witches was a good plan?” Belle paused for breath, face flushed, hair wild, and gulped down the rest of her martini.
“These traits ‘evil’ women have are things we should all be working for! They aren’t bad things—we’re just taught they are, and because of that, female villains use their powers for the forces of evil instead of good.”
“The sad thing is that female villains are weak, too,” Ariel said sadly. Surprised, everyone turned to stare at her. She hardly spoke if she could help it, but when she did, it usually packed a punch.
“Ariel agrees with me!” Snow White cried happily, flinging her arms around the redhead. “You see, I’m not alone!”
“I didn’t say that,” Ariel said, shifting uncomfortably under Snow White’s grip. “I just mean that…well, male villains, they have power and money and world domination to look forward to, right?” Everyone nodded except for Snow White, who released Ariel with a snooty, “Hmph!” of dismay. “Well, female villains are just as oppressed as us. They have as little rights as we do—fewer, even, because they don’t fit the traditional mode of beautiful, tragic young heroines. Their goals are not as lofty as male villains and they are almost always vanquished by a male. It’s just another way for patriarchy, especially Disney, to subjugate women.”
Snow White stood up and put on her cape, knocking over her martini in her haste.
“I’ve heard quite enough!” she shrilled. “This is absolutely disgusting. I don’t know how you all can sit here and listen to this nonsense.”
“She kind of has a point,” Aurora said, eyeing Ariel with some admiration. “Wow.”
“Disney hasn’t just done this to us,” Cinderella agreed. “Our villains—those who oppressed us—are just as much victims here as we are. Their own nature was perpetrated on them by society who taught us girls weren’t supposed to think for themselves or fight!” Snow White, apparently unable to stand no more, stormed out of the room, her bluebird cartwheeling after her with a disturbingly angry squawk.
“What about the Princes?” demanded Belle, ignoring Snow White’s departure. “And the Mothers? I mean, they’re victims here, too.”
“Oh, the Princes,” sighed Ariel. “I know what you mean. They’re expected to be handsome, strong, brave, rich…and not much else.”
“My Charming is…well, he’s a little slow,” Aurora admitted. “Sometimes you’d think it’s him that got pricked with the needle. He’s so…boring. All he wants to do is hunt and eat.”
“Beast is still a controlling jackass the majority of the time,” Belle said, pouring herself another martini. “He’s gotten better. But his temper…God, sometimes I could just smack him.”
“Eric isn’t so bad,” Ariel said carefully. “ Just a bit…shallow, I suppose.”
“Exactly!” Cinderella cut in. “That’s the problem! They have no substance, no brain—and they’ve been told that’s how they should always be!”
“And the Mothers,” Belle added. “Even though they’re the ones who force the stereotypes onto us the majority of the time, they don’t know any better. Who taught them that this is how women should be?”