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The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part V.

2012-09-14T14:09:00.000+01:00

The aim of this discussion was to assess the representation of women during Disney's renaissance in the late 80s and early 90s, utilising the findings to ascertain the studio's philosophy, and whether this accords with post-feminist debate, or less positive patriarchally defined gender stereotypes.

It became clear from the outset that the corporation's founder, Walt Disney, prided himself on his ability to tell stories via the means of animation, and favoured the fairy tale genre because it stood for the motifs of fun, nostalgia and wish-fulfilment that he wanted to purvey. It subsequently seemed a logical choice to use the fairy tale as the basis for this project; examining its core themes from an analysis of its origins as an oral tradition, through to its adoption into popular culture, and using the conclusions to advance an understanding of the values of Disney's versions of the same stories.

The reasons for selecting this period as the historical site of interest were twofold; firstly, since the term 'Renaissance' has literal connotations of revival and renewal, evaluating the status of gender in this period allows investigation of whether the studio revitalised their system of beliefs to correspond to a modern outlook. Secondly, as this renaissance occurred shortly after a shift in feminist debate, it appeared doubly significant to study Disney films from this time, in order to comprehend whether the post-feminist mode that emerged in the 1970s influenced the depictions of Disney heroines.

The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast were chosen as the central texts, owing to their long-standing heritage as well-known fairy tales, and the fact that the films appear to posit girls as the main protagonists.

In Part II, the role of the fairy tale was discussed, with the summation being that it has performed many objectives over its lifespan; from offering a sense of community and motivation, to acting as a form of trade and worship, to becoming today's recognisable symbol of hope and escapism.

While Zipes maintains that the genre was considered harmful to children, due to its covert suggestions of good versus wickedness, and the terrifying consequences of unacceptable behaviour, others including Bettelheim, argue that fairy tales help to progress the minds of young readers, allowing them to overcome anxieties by experiencing them through the safe format of a story. It was noted that this beneficial aspect of the fairy tale, along with its ability to develop imaginative skills, is what makes Disney animations appealing to young audiences. By setting a narrative within the colourful Disney realm, it poses no threat to a child's innocence, while retaining enough of a relationship with the real world to allow the corporation to subtly persuade the spectator into applying its values to wider society. It was proposed that, once Disney takes ownership of a fairy tale, it uses the genre's devices of subtlety and allegory to disguise its own agendas; concealing them within an exterior that viewers have learnt to trust as genuine, and doubling their authority.

This post then detailed the evolution of Beauty and the Beast and the Little Mermaid via their multiple adaptations, from their respective derivations as Greek and Swiss folk tales, to their famous appropriations by de Beaumont and Andersen. De Beaumont's rendering of the story is of female loyalty and devotion; Beauty does her utmost to obey and care for her father, whose needs she places well before her own. She encounters Beast in consequence of one of her few wishes, and her relationship with him is one of acceptance; she gradually learns to love him.

De Beaumont's tale acted as a form of instruction for its female readers, telling them to not only respect their fathers, but to abide by all regulations defined by men, in order to be regarded as ideal housewife material. Beauty's tolerance of Beast connotes that women forced into marrying threatening men needed to remain patient and understanding, so as to reveal their husband's potential for good.

Beauty, as the focal point of the story, typified expectations of young women's domestic destiny during the 18th century, and her submission to the codes of patriarchy proves advantageous to her, for with her marriage came wealth and aristocracy.

The Little Mermaid is more autobiographical, with parallels between the mermaid's life, and that of Andersen. Both the author and his creation are fascinated by the telling of stories by their elders, and long for access to the world beyond their limited existence. The pain that the mermaid experiences when changing into a human symbolises the mental suffering that Andersen undoubtedly went through on account of his underlying homosexual emotions, whereas her loss of voice is a metaphor for the writer being forced to repress his feelings.

Andersen's mermaid was read as being in a similarly oppressed situation to Beauty, as both girls conform to the rules of a male-dominated environment; although the mermaid has a grandmother, it is her father that dictates her regime. The mermaid appears more autonomous than Beauty, as she takes it upon herself to find a way out of this oppression, by sacrificing her voice for liberation. Yet, the fact she has to give up her ability to communicate means that she still can not find an equal place within society and, like Beauty, her desires cause her suffering.

Part III looked at the process of adaptation, and employed the relevant theories to a comparative investigation between Andersen and de Beaumont's texts, and Disney's films.

From engagement with the work of Hutcheon on adaptation, these posts have concluded that Disney's The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast should not be expected to retain complete fidelity to their descendants, because of the nature of adaptation to evolve to fit with the needs of its culture, and reflect the differing ideologies of its interpreters.

In accordance with Zipes' writings, it was noted that film, as a collaborative method, will denote the general stance of those involved in its creation. This means that a series of possibly conflicting opinions would have to be combined to form one message, which would be founded on the ideologies of that time. To this end, and as Warner concurs, when a fairy tale is cinematically adapted, the end product can be used to instruct the audience on how to respond to social issues, with the metaphorical disposition of fairy tales allowing film-makers to interweave socially-driven connotations into the seemingly safe and honest realm of film.

With this in mind, Disney's ethos becomes less innocent than it maintains, for it appears that the studio decided to take on the fairy tale genre because, as an already popular medium, it would guarantee a spectatorship that was willing and eager to absorb the underlying implications of these films. Additionally, both Disney and the fairy tale assure comfort and wish-fulfilment and, due to the corporation's commercial influence on children in particular, through their dissemination of products, and franchised 'experiences' like the theme parks, young viewers might find it difficult to avoid Disney's version of a 'utopian kingdom', and are made to forget the morals of the adapted texts, in favour of the studio's agenda.

Propp's concept of the function of fairy tales was then utilised to conduct a close examination of the literary and cinematic renditions of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, and returned the following findings.

Firstly, Disney's mermaid is motivated by selfish and materialistic desires, in comparison to Andersen's character, who is portrayed as a victim of her curiosity, fuelled by the stories of those around her. Andersen's mermaid wants to belong to the human world because it offers hope of living and dying as an individual that will be loved, whereas Ariel is looking to escape her oppressive father. Ordinarily, Disney's figure appears the more positively illustrated character, as she is responsible for her decisions, and inclined to see the world with her own eyes, rather than relying on the tales of others.

Yet Ariel comes across as a rebellious teenager, intent on the acquisition of beauty and success, and the fact that she does not die at the end of Disney's tale means that her egotistical longings are rewarded. This indicates the importance that the corporation places on capitalism and fetishisation; where Ariel, as the ideal consumer, makes a small sacrifice to gain her innermost yearnings.

Beauty and the Beast was subjected to the same study, which found that, in opposition to the majority of literary versions of this tale, it is Beast that is positioned as the film's protagonist, not Beauty/Belle.

The film begins with the Prince, whose violation of an interdiction causes his transformation, and it is this that the narrative focuses on throughout. Belle is simply the answer to Beast's problems; the donor, whose own needs are inferior. Belle and Beauty are similar in their loyalty and care towards their fathers, and it is this obedience that leads them to meet Beast. However, whereas de Beaumont's tale follows Beauty, and her acceptance of Beast; which stands as an allegory for her as the perfect housewife in training, Disney places Beast at the centre of its narrative, casting him as the victim of female intolerance and cruelty.

Part III deduced that the changes Disney made to Andersen and de Beaumont's stories had a largely negative attitude toward the portrayal of femininity, with Beauty and the Beast in particular citing women as the perpetrators of society's errors. Belle and Ariel are not free to make their own decisions, as initially presumed in consequence of the post-feminist culture in which the films were produced; rather, they depend on those around them to achieve mobility, and are constructs of patriarchal and consumerist belief systems.

Part IV was concerned with how questions of female identity, representation and consumerism could be found in the Disney adaptations. It was acknowledged by Warner that folk tales have traditionally depicted women as submissive childbearers and that, once they have passed the age of reproduction, they are seen as deviant; hence the emergence of the evil, older villainess.

Ursula, and to a lesser extent Beauty and the Beast's beggar/sorcerers, epitomise this idea via physical horror and manipulative mannerisms, while their younger counterparts retain their beauty, but have little control over their lives, and none whatsoever over the lives of others.

The sea witch proved especially intriguing, and was inferred as adopting the characteristics of a drag queen to comment on society's constructed notion of the ideal woman; performer, consumer, sex object. She also took on the role of substitute mother to Ariel, a relationship that is not normally found in Disney films, for it contains many complexities and contradictions. Far from being a positive change, Ursula's matriarchy is criticised by Worthington as being detrimental to the film's young viewers, since it may cause them to see their own mothers as threatening to their happiness and independence. To this end, patriarchy's disturbing influence is pushed aside to allow for a harmful view of women as bitter, jealous rivals, prepared to go to any lengths to achieve prosperity.

Ariel's loss of voice is deemed of little significance by Disney, who insinuates that as she has her looks, she will retain her attractiveness to the opposite sex, which will result in her achieving access to the male-dominated, capitalist realm. It is suggested that a woman's silence is key to her appeal and contentment, and this coincided with McRobbie's argument that modern women are unlikely to complain about inequalities that may arise during their lifetime, since society has taught them to be appreciative of the liberations they have been awarded.

The subject of consumerism was then discussed, with Belle and Ariel displaying connotations of young women that want more from their lives. Belle sings of wanting to see the world outside of her small provincial town, and her love of books suggests her desire to escape, whilst implying that she is trying to improve her education as a means of propelling herself to emancipation. Indeed, McRobbie writes that women see qualifications as a way of attaining an independent role within society's economy, which leads to them being recompensed by their positions as powerful consumers.

Conversely, it was noted that Belle only seems to read fairy tales, suggesting her unrealistic worldviews and, with such stories as Sleeping Beauty providing the foundations for her knowledge, it was likely she would end up in the same position as her fictitious heroines; sacrificing her freedom to marry the man of her dreams. Of course, this is how the film ends, with Belle's aspirations of seeing the world instantly forgotten, or sacrificed, when she chooses to live as a princess within the confines of Beast/Prince's castle.

Ariel too wants more from life, and her role as a consumer is illustrated by her vast collection of human artefacts. Most notably is the mermaid's desire for legs, which is understood as representing sexuality, independence, and an appropriation of the beauty and fashion industry. Ariel's transformation is like a metaphorical makeover, which Tasker claims is a consequence of the pressure on women to make the most of their appearance so as to appeal to the patriarchal modes of ideal femininity, and ensure a high-ranking social status. The mermaid's painless conversion naturalises this process, while the fact that she retains this form and retrieves her voice at the film's conclusion suggests that women can have everything they desire, as long as they work hard, and comply with the rules of patriarchy.

Finally, Disney's marketing of the 'Princess' brand was considered, stemming from Ariel's remarkable resemblance of a fashion doll. It was argued that, by making such characters as Belle and Ariel beautiful and, apparently, fortunate, they promote a certain lifestyle to young girls that, in order to achieve the same 'happy endings' as their heroines, they must model themselves on their physicality.

By playing with plastic representations of these women, children are encouraged to create their own stories, based on what they have seen on screen. Disney's fairy tales become the originals in the minds of these spectators, and their imaginations are enhanced by playing with the film-inspired dolls. In reality, from a young age, audiences are coached by Disney to be the perfect consumers, and ideal images of female sexuality; with the dolls' beauty and infinite number of accessories denoting the liberating and enjoyable effect of consumption, and its promise of satisfaction and access.

Overall, the past few posts have established that, contrary to the connotations of the term 'Renaissance', Disney has not provided a completely positive representation of women within the two films that have been analysed. Belle and Ariel are marketed as feisty, brave, strong heroines; fighting male dominance to achieve happiness. Yet, on closer inspection, these girls are submissive, objectified constructs of patriarchal hegemony and, rather than standing as symbols of female emancipation, they are marked as indicators of compliance, commodification and fetishisation.

While Disney maintains a male bias, which is most clearly visible in Beast's apparently unfair curse, it should not be claimed that this is an unrealistic or atypical perspective. Undeniably, post-feminist critique directly remarks on such viewpoints, which provide the very foundations of this theory. Women, according to post-feminism, are encouraged to consume, oblige, improve, learn, and so on in order to gain what they can from a society dominated by male ideals. Post-feminists recognise that inequalities remain, but point out the positive changes that have occurred, and concentrate on supporting women to make further improvements, by being independent, and effectively bowing to male authority.

It could be claimed that Disney is only revealing society’s contemporary philosophy on gender and that, rather than being deciphered as negative, these films are indicators of current cultural norms. Certainly, issues of gender stereotyping and the effect that the media has on children are predominant in today's culture, and so Disney's The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast could be seen as attempts to comment on such debates, and bring them to the fore in an effort to produce change.

The basis of this examination was to assess Disney's depiction of femininity in relation to its traditionally patriarchal attitude, and it appears to have successfully demonstrated that, while not completely unrealistic, Disney is neither favourable nor hopeful in its portrayal of women, and their role within society.

The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part IV.

2012-08-24T16:44:00.002+01:00

As Part III has shown, de Beaumont and Andersen's tales have experienced a number of changes at the hands of Disney. This post aims to examine the films in relation to these alterations, as well as in terms of their general themes and values, to ascertain how women are represented, and whether this corresponds with common gender stereotypes, post-feminist critique, and Disney's contemporary ethos. To coincide with the format of the previous post, the role or, as Propp theorises, the lack of parent will first be addressed.

In a lecture on the position of women within the folk tale, Warner states that femininity has always been associated with reproduction, and that once a woman passes the age of fertility, they are seen as undesirable and unproductive. A female that is unable to have children implies disobedience towards the laws of nature, which is emphasised in the majority of fairy tales by her horrific physicality; as in the case of the sorceress in Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), or malicious behaviour; The Little Mermaid's (Clement & Musker, 1989) Ursula:

[…] a theme develops that takes the infertile women who has passed the age of childbearing as representing in some fundamental way a transgression against the purpose of her sex, and in that transgression against the natural God-given order she can then serve to represent other pejorative and repulsive or repugnant aberrations. (1993:72-73)

On the one hand, these women can be viewed positively as, unlike their young rivals, they are largely responsible for their own actions, and display dominance and superiority over those weaker than themselves. They are also, according to Bell, the only women to speak to the audience via a tendency to frame them in close-up:

The narrative flow is set into motion by the actions and reactions of these women, as they respond to the behaviours of the protagonists, i.e. the sorceress' punishment of the prince's selfishness. The fact that they are permitted to gaze directly into the camera means that they are granted the ability to challenge the viewer, both in terms of their visual perspective, and their moral outlook. Whereas the protagonists, Belle and Ariel, are merely constructs of their surroundings, and have no influence over those that are commenting on and controlling their lives.

Naturally, these villainesses are not simple examples of positive female representations, as their power is indicative of negative patriarchal ideology. Focusing on Ursula to begin with, while it is explained that she once lived in Triton's palace, no reason is given for her banishment; implying that she became a threat to the king's masculinity and governance, on account of her size and supernatural abilities. Subsequently she lives alone, with her dark and foreboding cavern of residence resembling a womb, whose tunnels, containing the shrivelled remains of previous victims, lead Ariel to her fate.

Ursula is not actually a mermaid, rather she is an octopus or, as Sells claims, an 'inverted Medusa' (1995:184), and her unattractiveness is emphasised by her grotesque obesity, particularly when viewed in contrast to Ariel's slenderness. As such, Ursula is not part of any of the film's communities, and represents the threat of difference and otherness; specifically towards patriarchy. Her appearance epitomises the stereotypically unattractive traits of femininity, while her weight connotes an overbearing and smothering matriarchal presence (Trites, 1990/1991).

The fact that her cave is reminiscent of a womb suggests male anxieties towards strong and autonomous women, while her imprisonment protects men from the threat of castration; by situating her as Other, outside the norm, patriarchal hegemony is safe from being overruled.

While it is Ariel that seeks Ursula's help in the first place, the trade that takes place; voice for soul, is fuelled just as much by the needs of the witch as those of the mermaid. Ursula is jealous of Ariel's beauty, voice and place within Triton's kingdom, and preys on the girl's weakness; her love for Eric, in retaliation to her banishment. Her hideousness, as Sells assents, makes Ariel's rejection of the only strong female character in favour of the male-dominated human world understandable, as she would seemingly prefer to be mute and beautiful than articulate and repulsive:

Ariel's entry into the white male system is at the expense of her connection with the mother. The gynophobic imagery sanitizes this cost, making it more palatable. By vilifying feminine power in the figure of Ursula, Disney simplifies Ariel's choice: in the white male system it is much easier to be silent than to be seen as monstrous. (1995:181)

In the scene where the trade takes place, Ursula sings to Ariel of the 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' (Clements & Musker, 1989) that she has allegedly helped in achieving their wishes to be more desirable. Already, the witch is offering Ariel something that many women yearn for and, when the mermaid questions whether she can leave her family, she persuades her by stating that 'Life is full of tough choices' (Clements & Musker, 1989). One of these choices is of course Ariel's loss of voice in exchange for a human life, but Ursula makes this seem a small sacrifice, and tells the girl that she will 'never even miss it' (Clements & Musker, 1989), and that she will still have her looks, and her body language.

Ursula's insinuation that Ariel will not need her voice when she becomes human is interesting, as it implies a patriarchal notion that silent women will become more successful and appealing. As Walter observes, men who do not speak are stereotypically regarded as icons of masculinity, such as Pride and Prejudice's Mr Darcy; for talking is generally associated with the expressing of emotions. Quiet men are often seen as attractive and powerful because of their ability to control their feelings, which fascinates women who long to expose these hidden depths.

In contrast, women who talk openly and frequently are commonly perceived as irritating gossips, whereas those that are silent may be considered as uneducated outsiders; unable to participate in intelligent conversation. Alternatively, as Warner and McRobbie propose, a quiet woman can signify compliance; a concept that dates back to mediaeval imagery, where Obedience was always portrayed with her hand over her mouth (Warner, 1993:72). Warner goes on to describe that, if a woman answered back, she would be punished by the removal of her beauty, and an increase in her age. Thus, what typifies the ideal woman; good-looking and reproductive, is taken away, which may have been Ursula's fate, as perhaps she verbally challenged Triton's authority, leading to her incarceration and ugliness:

'Hence the connections between beauty and virtue on the one hand, and ugliness and vice on the other.' (1993:72-73)

McRobbie applies a post-feminist critique to this way of thinking, suggesting that due to the recent increase in female emancipation, and the general consensus that the sexes are equal, women feel unable to speak out against any disparities, as they fear they will be looked upon as troublemakers. Hence, it seems women tend not to complain if they are treated unfairly, for society assumes that they should be grateful for the freedoms they have been granted, as McRobbie posits:

'[…] the new female subject is, despite her freedom, called upon to be silent, to withhold critique in order to count as a modern sophisticated girl. Indeed this withholding of critique is a condition of her freedom.' (2009:18)

If a woman was to challenge the media's objectification of her gender for instance, she could be criticised for opposing the very liberations that she has been awarded, as women are now encouraged to embrace their sexuality through such means as clothing and make-up, which are presented to them via magazines, television and posters.

Ursula symbolises Warner's vision of a woman who spoke against a strong patriarchal presence, and by instructing Ariel to remain silent, she is passing on her wisdom of this experience that, when viewed in this way, can be seen as a means of protecting the mermaid from drawing attention to her inferior intelligence and cultural knowledge.

Following Ursula's song, Ariel's quick acceptance implies that perhaps she is already aware of the limitations of her voice; indeed, when the sea witch first sets out the conditions, Ariel replies with 'But without my voice how can I...' (Clements & Musker, 1989), as if she is unable to construct a cohesive argument even with the ability of speech. Consequently, Ariel replicates the woman of the post-feminist era as, although attached to her voice as a means of expression, which Disney emphasises by making her a talented singer, she understands that she will gain more success and admiration from staying mute.

Speech is one of the key signs of a woman's identity, and without it, Ariel must rely on another of her feminine indicators; her body. Ursula's physical form works to accentuate outward appearance, as her lack of femininity evokes an image similar to that of a drag queen (Sells, 1995:182). According to Sells, Disney's director of animation, Ruben Acquine, cited the legendary drag artist Divine as the inspiration for Ursula's look, and it is this that enables a closer study of this character.

The 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' sequence could be read as Ursula's drag routine, as her actions simulate those of a performer preparing herself to go on stage, where she proceeds to sing and dance provocatively, even using her pet eels, Flotsam and Jetsam, as substitutes for a feather boa:

Ursula's lack of femininity means that this performance is exactly that; a satirical acting out of what it is to be a woman. Rather than making her seem womanly, the witch's overt use of make-up and coiffured hair appears false, as if it is part of the show, or 'masquerade' (Sells, 1995:182). Ursula is teaching Ariel the physicalities of how to be a woman, yet Sells suggests that this character is so far removed from womanliness that she is not representing herself as a prime example, but as a recreation of a female:

'In Ursula's drag scene, Ariel learns that gender is performance; Ursula doesn't simply symbolize woman, she performs woman.' (1995:182)

Sells notes that Ariel is taught another lesson by her elder, that to be a woman she must act accordingly, modelling herself to fit with the ideals that correlate with her gender. Later, when a newly transformed Ariel encounters Eric on the beach, it is clear that Ursula's coaching has paid off, as the mermaid turns to mischievously smile and wink at her friends, demonstrating that she is acutely aware that this is all a game.

Ariel and Ursula's mimicking of the female form, as well as the mermaid's falsification of humanity, stresses the way that the motifs of gender are created. Ursula as drag queen seeks to remind the viewer that a large proportion of gender-specific behaviours are learnt; influenced by, and modified to fit with, the established norms of society. Women are 'supposed' to be interested in fashion and beauty, in order to be sexually alluring and successful, and the fact that they are essentially allowed to present themselves as they like, means that the general consensus is one of liberation and equality. In some respects this is true; with post-feminist discourse assenting that a woman's freedom of expression is a result of a rise in sexual parity, and that the relationship they now have with maintaining their appearance is an enjoyable one. In Walter's view:

In this final march towards equality, the puritanism that was expressed by so many earlier feminists is a hindrance rather than a help. Puritanism alienates women as it does not reflect the real, often wickedly enjoyable relationship they have with their clothes and their bodies. (1998:86)

In opposition is the view that women are still subjected to the patriarchal system of values that decree what is appropriate in terms of dress, gesture and mannerisms and, if they were to dramatically go against these rules in pursuit of emancipation, they could be labelled as being too provocative and suggestive.

It appears that it is the latter perspective that is presented in The Little Mermaid, since Ursula is not illustrated as a woman, but as a cultural construction of womanhood. If the scenario had been different, and she was depicted naturally, with less make-up and a reduced emphasis on the importance of body language, Ursula might have connoted the principles of Walter's above statement; that women are responsible for their own appearance. As it stands, with Ursula the drag queen, Disney is implying the androcentric view that women focus on their exteriors in order to benefit men, who are also the dictators of feminine appeal. The sea witch is effectively a man disguised as a woman, which signifies the hidden patriarchal values at the centre of this film that are literally masqueraded as female independence and emancipation.

The opening premise of this post raised the issue of the role of the parent in fairy tales, and it could be contended that Ursula takes on this position as a substitute mother for Ariel. Whereas in Andersen's story the mermaid seeks advice regarding the outside world from her grandmother, Ariel receives her facts from Ursula; the only creature to tell her the truth about the humans. It is Ursula that Ariel calls upon at her time of need, and it is the witch that teaches her how to act, which serves to keep the girl safe once she is among the humans; even if it is more of an advantage for Ursula.

To return to Worthington's ideas discussed in Part III, the mother/daughter relationship is regularly omitted by Disney because of the difficulties in portraying this multifaceted connection. If a matriarch does feature, they are generally viewed as a destructive presence, and display feelings of jealousy, rivalry and spite towards their children or step-children. Ariel shuns the possibility of becoming like Ursula by choosing to live as a human, but the fact that it is the sea witch that gives her this option has maternal connotations. It is Ursula, as mother, that offers her 'child' the promise of an enjoyable and successful life and, as White proposes, her physical appearance could be deemed as endearing and comforting, with her girth actually giving the impression of softness and warmth:

'Perhaps this is why Ursula, for all her villainy, is a lovable character, whose obesity must be rejected by the girl viewer on aesthetic grounds, but whose ample, maternal folds may also offer vague refuge.' (1993:191-192)

In a sense, Ursula gives Ariel the emotional support that she likely does not receive from her oppressive father, who is more intent on ensuring that his daughter abides by his regime: 'As long as you are living under my ocean, you'll obey my rules' (Clements & Musker, 1989). Hence, Ursula's contract serves as Ariel's way out of this patriarchal environment; albeit to one that is equally male-dominated.

However, it is made clear from early on in the film that Ursula is resentful of her banishment, and is prepared to go to any lengths to take revenge. Like the typical villain of Propp's thesis, Ursula receives information on her impending victim, Ariel, via another character, in this case two; Flotsam and Jetsam, who report on the mermaid's infatuation with Prince Eric. The witch sees this as the ideal opportunity for retaliation, stating that Ariel may be the solution to Triton's downfall; thus the girl is simply a pawn in Ursula's scheme. Here, Nadel alleges that Ursula stands as an icon of the 'backlash' mode of feminism (1997:94), which witnessed a move by women to overthrow long-standing patriarchal mores, even if this involved harming their own kin:

These feminists [...] aim, according to the mythology of backlash, not to advance women so much as to destroy male-dominated institutions. Women, in this scenario, are their innocent victims not their beneficiaries. In adhering to this description Ursula attempts to undermine the advances she has facilitated so that Ariel and, more important, Triton will be in her complete control. (1997:94)

It becomes apparent then, that Ursula remains a jealous and self-motivated mother, and any positive implications that she may possess, as described by White, are overshadowed by her unsavoury character. Envious that Ariel has everything that she does not, Ursula feels threatened, even though she is an extremely powerful force. Worthington suggests that this is a sign of the culture in which the film was made, where mature women who may have fulfilled their potentials in terms of social class, wealth and employment are looked upon as less important and influential than their younger counterparts:

These equations of the young beauty with goodness and purity and the older woman with jealousy and evil give a very stark indication of society's viewpoint: as the older woman becomes less beautiful and the young girl becomes more so, the older woman loses social value, despite the fact that she is at that moment […] at the height of her social power and sexual maturity. According to these films, unless a woman is "the fairest one of all," she is worthless and, subsequently, evil. (2009:34)

Worthington maintains that this tendency to illustrate the older woman as insignificant and bitter is damaging to the beliefs of young female spectators, who may apply this reasoning to their real mothers, and consider them devious menaces, rather than sites of love and encouragement. This opposes Walter's notion, as examined in the introduction, that women share a number of intrinsic values and principles, based on a common desire for equality. Instead, The Little Mermaid posits women as being in competition with each other, serving to dislocate this post-feminist sense of unity, resulting in a negation of the true adversary; patriarchy. Consequently, Disney intimates that male domination is not such a disturbing power as female rivalry, and that, in reality, it is not patriarchy to blame for society's inequalities, but women's apparent need to better one another.

Beauty and the Beast is similarly derogative towards the trustworthiness and selfish intentions of women, who are to blame for the downfalls of men and, in a wider context, society. The film's opening, where the prince is punished by a sorcereress for his selfishness, lays the foundations for the narrative's undertone; that the Beast is an innocent victim of female wickedness.

As has been demonstrated, the main character of Disney's Beauty and the Beast is the Beast/Prince rather than Beauty who, since the tale's oral origins, has nearly always been positioned as the protagonist. Disney's adaptation of the traditional story, made most famous by de Beaumont, places more importance on Beast's enchantment; the details of which are not revealed until the end of most literary versions. Not only is the Beast/Prince automatically placed as the hero on account of his receipt of an interdiction but, by commencing the tale with him, the audience is led to sympathise with his plight first and foremost, above any allegiances they may make with Belle, whose own story is secondary. Moreover, Jeffords insists that the Prince's attitude towards the beggar is a product of a poor upbringing, and that this is evidenced in the film by his spoilt, uneducated and rude demeanour:

[…] in contrast to the commanding, sophisticated, and intelligent Beasts that frequent the other tales and that finally make them so deserving of Beauty's love, this Beast seems childish, blustering, "clumsy", petulant, and untutored. As with his upbringing and his initial acquisition of his selfish personality, the Beast does not have to take responsibility for his behaviour. (1995:169)

Accordingly, the parents are cited as detrimental to their child's welfare, and the fact that the Prince's family is nowhere to be seen means that they are not given the opportunity to defend themselves, with their absence making their son appear more vulnerable. It is this vulnerability that the villain plays on, manipulating a man who has limited social skills, and turning him into a prisoner of his physical and cultural environment.

Belle, the donor, is situated as Beast's saviour, as well as his tutor; teaching him how to read, dance, and show patience. The role of this Beauty may be important, for it is her devotion and love that helps Beast transform, but her character remains minor in comparison to her student.

Visually, Beast dominates the frame, symbolically overshadowing the smaller Belle , who literally has to look up when speaking to him. Thus, on top of being metaphorically located as the hero, Beast is bodily illustrated in this way, with his size signifying his male power and authority, trapped within the confines of the screen that, arguably, holds a generally female gaze:

Belle's aptitude for caring for Beast stems from the ineffectuality of her father, who seems incapable of looking after himself, let alone his daughter. Maurice is an inventor and, as such, is characterised as a stereotypically odd and eccentric man, who likely spends more time on his latest project than with Belle. Consequently, she has probably had to raise herself; as again there is no mother figure, in tandem with minding her father, hence a reversal of the traditional parent/child relationship. This is shown when Belle takes Maurice's place as Beast's prisoner, a deed that Byrne and McQuillan describe as a 'classic piece of maternal self-sacrifice' (1999:67) and, certainly, Belle's tendency to put the needs of others before her own makes her the most parentally responsible character in the film.

Like de Beaumont's Beauty, Belle loves to read, and it is this that marks her as an intelligent woman. McRobbie claims that, in today's post-feminist culture, women are invited to actively obtain a considerable education that is then traded for a higher-ranking position within employment, and society. In other words, the most highly qualified, hard-working and determined women are recompensed by greater economic and social autonomy, or as McRobbie argues:

'Nowadays the young woman's success seems to promise economic prosperity on the basis of her enthusiasm for work and having a career.' (2009:58)

There is a drawback to this situation; this recent freedom of participation in the wider economy reminds women of the advancements that have occurred to allow it, which McRobbie contends may cause women to feel indebted to, and unworthy of, their male co-workers:

'[Women] are invited to recognise themselves as privileged subjects of social change, perhaps they might even be expected to be grateful for the support they have received.' (2009:58)

Belle's literary pursuits primarily imply her astuteness, and longing to increase her learning, yet the book that she states is her favourite is none other than Sleeping Beauty; a fairy tale, which has the converse effect of representing her as a romantic dreamer, rather than a woman seeking cultural emancipation. In reality, Belle's books provide her with a form of escapism, and in her song 'Little Town', she sings of her wish for 'adventure in the great wide somewhere' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), though she does not know where, or how, to achieve this.

Additionally, this hobby isolates Belle from the rest of the town, who label her as strange and distant, while Gaston, the film's resident bully and Beast's antithesis, tells her that it is not right for women to read because it gives them ideas, and 'gets them thinking' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991).

Subsequently, Belle does not accord with McRobbie's notion of the intellectual post-feminist, as she reads for comfort rather than mental and cultural development, and bases her worldviews on the exploits of her beloved fairy tale characters. Her song tells of her hopes of seeing the world, but she gives up on this dream by agreeing to be Beast's prisoner, and then again at the film's conclusion, when she becomes the Prince's wife. Once more, Belle has had to forfeit her aspirations in favour of those of the people around her; even if she is perceived by the viewer as intelligent, this does not benefit her in the ways McRobbie suggests it should, for as Murphy claims, she does not gain social or economic independence, but is trapped by the needs of the Prince, within the custodial walls of his castle:

The abandonment of that wider world in exchange for princesshood reinscribes the validity of androcentric promotion of escapism as the answer to the contemporary cultural debate about the nature of gender relationships – the smart woman gets the prince not by dint of her intellect but by means of her self-sacrificing devotion and love. (1995:133-134)

McRobbie's hypothesis goes on to pronounce that, when women achieve what they believe to be freedom in the workplace, they do so at a price since, not only is this liberation limited, but it acts as consolation for the remaining inequalities that are yet to be addressed. One area in which women are entitled to greater participation is consumerism, which goes hand-in-hand with financial independence.

By taking on economic responsibilities, and being targeted as powerful consumers, as previously detailed by Tasker, women are coerced into thinking that they can readily make their own decisions surrounding such spheres as appearance, home-life, and employment. Plus, as a product of the sex trade's blending into popular culture, the taboos of talking about sex, and wearing make-up and revealing clothing, have been removed; resulting in women feeling confident and authoritative when shopping. The media takes advantage of this modern relationship that women have with their bodies, and advises them on how to improve themselves to obtain personal satisfaction, and to appeal to the male gaze. Therefore, femininity is sold as a commodity that women are willing to buy into since consumption is an enjoyable and restorative act, and this is further demonstrated by the rise of the makeover, where women who are unhappy with their outer selves are applauded for making changes that fit with social acceptability; explained by McRobbie here:

The authoritative voice of consumer culture is intimate, cajoling and also encouraging […]. By generating body dissatisfaction, the beauty and fashion industries respond directly to the fraught state of non-identity which we all inhabit and which is predicated on unfathomable loss, a loss which is incurred at the cost of acquiring language and sexual identity. The young woman is congratulated, reprimanded and encouraged to embark on a new regime of self-perfectibility (i.e. self-completion) in the hope of making good this loss. (2009:62-63)

Both Belle and Ariel indulge in consumerist fantasies of escape from the limitations of their lives, with the outside world symbolising the same promises of freedom and wish-fulfilment that Disney proffers. Disney is a site of mass commodification and extensive marketing campaigns, which will be evaluated shortly, and for a viewer to enjoy the 'benefits' that the studio assures, they need to buy into the company; exchanging independent beliefs for a patriarchally manufactured product.

Ariel is the most obvious consumer of the two, with her collection of shipwreck finds standing as a visual metaphor for her yearning to belong to a more industrious environment. In 'Part of That World', Ariel sings of wanting more than she has, which is in reference to her coveting of human legs, for she believes that if she can run and dance, she will belong. Byrne and McQuillan claim that dancing is directly related to the consumerist modes of fashion and beauty (1999:25), and it could be further argued that Ariel sees legs as a means of escaping her father's oppressive rules, and achieving independence; demonstrated in the following lyrics:

'Betcha on land they understand. Bet they don't reprimand their daughters. Bright young women, sick of swimming, ready to stand.' (Clements & Musker, 1989)

Ariel wants to physically change herself to fit with what is regarded as beautiful in the outside world, because she thinks that this is the only way she can attain autonomy and happiness. Ariel's transformation has interesting parallels with the makeover phenomenon in feminine culture, and Tasker's writings highlight the pressure on women to make themselves as attractive as possible in order to concur with societal norms. The fact that the alteration does not hurt, unlike the agony that Andersen's mermaid experiences, suggests to the female spectator that such sacrifices are relatively painless, and that modifying their bodies is an acceptable part of the journey towards satisfaction, desirability and success.

At a time when plastic surgery is commonplace for women who are unhappy with their figures, and made to feel additionally self-conscious by the media's fetishisation of perfection, Disney insinuates that complete adaptation is key to accomplishing admission into male-dominated society. Ariel's love for Eric is simultaneously love for what he possesses; legs, and the products of his world that she treasures. In this respect, and as Nadel argues, Ariel's longing for change is representative of patriarchy's personification of the ideal woman, and her shallow need to have everything she lacks:

'For Ariel, in other words, humans are fetishized objects, attractive because of their material possessions and attractive like them.' (1997:92)

Even before her human makeover, Ariel is sexualised, wearing only seashells or 'cupcakes' (Sendac in Millar, 1997:9) over her breasts, and with copious amounts of billowing red hair:

It is no accident that Ariel resembles the fashion dolls that have become so popular with adolescent girls for, as well as wanting to look a certain way, the mermaid is Disney's superlative marketing device; selling the corporation's 'Princess' brand as a lifestyle choice.

Hutcheon states that a film's broad range of merchandise allows children to re-enact their own versions of the tales that they have seen on screen; tapping into their infinite imaginations, and forming another type of adaptation. Children are persuaded to participate in, and take ownership of, the stories, and Disney aids this process by bringing together its dolls under the umbrella of the 'Princess' trademark. This is justified, according to Worthington, as it apparently makes it easier for children to create more extensive make-believe worlds by having the characters cross over and interact, which means that favourites do not need to be picked, and profits therefore rise.

Since these dolls are undoubtedly based on the media's limiting view of the perfect woman, with Bell drawing comparisons between Ariel and Farrah Fawcett (1995:110), while the figures are supposed to stand as blueprints for their owners, there is consequently a blurring between reality and fantasy. The dolls' stick thin torsos, shiny hair and flawlessly made-up faces, coupled with their endless accessories, promotes consumerism in its most primitive form; the need to appeal, acquire, and achieve. Walter draws attention to this obscuring of 'doll' and 'real girl' as follows:

This strange melding of the doll and the real girl can continue way beyond childhood. Living a doll's life seems to have become an aspiration for many young women, as they leave childhood behind only to embark on a project of grooming, dieting and shopping that aims to achieve the bleached, waxed, tinted look of a Bratz or Barbie doll. (2010:2)

Disney uses its toys to erase the memories of the fairy tales that it has adapted, by encouraging children to play out the stories as presented to them by the studio, and to sell an idyllic existence that is founded upon patriarchy, capitalism, and consumerism.

While it could be debated that the sexiness of these dolls is in accordance with the changing attitude towards femininity, and the freedoms that have allegedly been granted, it may be suggested that, actually, they indicate that for a girl to be successful, she must look like them; sacrificing any sense of independence in order to conform with society's predetermined conventions of glamour.

Bibliography:

Bell, E., Hass, L. & Sells, L. (eds.) (1995) From Mouse To Mermaid: The Politics of Film, Gender and Culture, Indiana University Press: Indiana.

― Bell, E. 'Somatexts at the Disney Shop', p.107-125.

― Jeffords, S. 'The Curse of Masculinity: Disney's Beauty and the Beast', p.161-172.

― Murphy, D. P. '"The Whole Wide World Was Scrubbed Clean" The Androcentric Animation of Denatured Disney', p.125-137.

― Sells, L. 'Where Do the Mermaids Stand? Voice and Body in The Little Mermaid', p.175-192.

― Zipes, J. 'Breaking the Disney Spell', p.21-42.

Byrne, E. & McQuillan, M. (1999) Deconstructing Disney, Pluto Press: London

Hutcheon, L. (2006) A Theory of Adaptation, Routledge: New York.

Le Prince de Beaumont, J. M. (2008) Beauty and the Beast, Forgotten Books.

McRobbie, A. (2009) The Aftermath of Feminism: Gender, Culture and Social Change, SAGE Publications: London.

Millar, P. (1997) 'Plunder - Disney Tears up Our Heritage' in: The European Issue, August 28-September 3, p.8-12.

Nadel, A. (1997) 'The Pretty Woman, The Little Mermaid, and the Working Girl Become "Part of That World", in: Flatlining on the Field of Dreams: Cultural Narratives in the Films of President Reagan's America, Rutgers University Press: New Brunswick, New Jersey and London, p.86-113.

Petrie, D. (ed.) (1993) Cinema and the Realms of Enchantment, BFI: London.

― Warner, M. 'The Uses of Enchantment: Lecture at the National Film Theatre, 7 February 1992, p.13-35.

― Warner, M. 'Women against Women in the Old Wives' Tale: Internal PFI Seminar, 26 February 1992', p.63-84.

Propp, V. Morphology of the Folktale (1968) Indiana University Press: USA.

Trites, R. (1990/1991) 'Disney's Sub/Version of The Little Mermaid', in: Journal of Popular Television and Film Vol. 18, p.145-159

Walter, N. (1998) The New Feminism, Little, Brown: London.

Walter, N. (2010) Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism, Virago Press: London.

Warner, M. (1994) From The Beast To The Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers, Random House: London.

White, S. (1993) 'Split Skins: Female Agency and Bodily Mutilation in The Little Mermaid' in: Collins, J.; Radner, H.; & Preacher Collins, A. (eds.) Film Theory Goes to the Movies, Routledge: London, p.182-196.

Worthington, M. (2009) 'The Motherless "Disney Princess": Marketing Mothers out of the Picture' in: Hall, A. C. & Bishop, M. J. (eds.) Mommy Angst: Motherhood in American Popular Culture, ABC-Clio, LLC: California, p.29-46.

The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part III.

2012-07-26T14:58:00.002+01:00

Following on from the last post, which looked at the role and function of the fairy tale, and the progression of The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989) and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), this post will take an analytical approach to the Disney films; using the information regarding any alterations to identify whether they are significant in terms of what they suggest about changing attitudes towards feminism.

In 1989 The Little Mermaid was adapted by Disney to become the first feature of the studio's renaissance, and was followed two years later by a revision of the Beauty and the Beast story. They proved popular amongst cinema-goers, with The Little Mermaid being the 13th highest grossing film in its year of release, and Beauty and the Beast ranking third in 1991 (Box Office Mojo, 2011), but were generally panned by scholars, owing to the alterations that had been made to the tales.

In her writings on adaptation, Hutcheon notes that it is common for filmic versions to be perceived negatively, as they will always be secondary to their literary precursors, and can never match the expectations of every spectator. On a basic level Hutcheon surmises that, because literature has existed far longer than cinema, it will be regarded as the greater medium, with film never being more than second-best.

The term adaptation literally implies the practice of alteration and adjustment of an item, in order for it to correspond with its changing surroundings, and the variable needs of its consumers. Hutcheon equates this process with Darwin's theory of evolution, stating that a story's journey from place to place, carried from one teller to another, means that it will be influenced by such elements as the culture, society and religion in which it finds itself. In this respect, Hutcheon sees the life of a tale as going on indefinitely, fuelled by the input of multiple narrators; yet its meaning can never be fixed, as each relator will use their own perspective to make the story understandable and significant to their current values.

To think of narrative adaptation in terms of a story's fit and its process of mutation of adjustment, through adaptation, to a particular cultural environment is something I find suggestive. Stories also evolve by adaptation and are not immutable over time. Sometimes, like biological adaptation, cultural adaptation involves migration to favorable conditions: stories travel to different cultures and different media. In short, stories adapt just as they are adapted. (2006:31)

Despite the fact that adaptation naturally denotes change, some believe that all derivations must remain completely faithful to their source, so as to avoid disappointing the viewer, and violating their expectations of what may be the latest rendition of their favourite story. The appeal of watching a cinematic adaptation may be that it creates feelings of nostalgia and familiarity for the audience, who might have grown up with that particular tale, or have fond memories associated with it. These feelings would surely be heightened in the case of a Disney version of a fairy tale, as both of these institutions signify tender recollections of childhood innocence, security and comfort, and their adaptation echoes the repeated re-reading of these stories during a child's lifetime.

On the other hand, those that appreciate the true implication of the term adaptation should understand the inevitable differences that will occur between versions that may lead to anticipation and suspense for the audience, enhancing the excitement surrounding which elements will be included, and how the director will interpret them, which is summarised by Hutcheon in the following statement:

'[…] perhaps the real comfort lies in the simple act of almost but not quite repeating, in the revisiting of a theme with variations.' (2006:115)

Those seeking fidelity appear to forget one of the most fundamental principles of film-making; its creativity, and that if a director did produce a carbon copy of pre-existing material, they would be criticised for plagiarism, and for lacking in artistry, individuality, and talent.

Unlike writing, film-making is a collaborative process, and Hutcheon considers it difficult to cite the director as the chief adapter, as there are other participants involved, including the scriptwriter, who is one of the first to modify a text to make it suitable for the screen, and the editor, who must ensure that the finished piece is cohesive, and that the themes it contains are easily recognised throughout. The emergence of auteur theory in 1940s France positioned the director as being solely accountable for a film's look, yet today, while there are still subscribers to this polemic, it is widely believed that a film is a product of a team, and that not only does each member have their own duty, but they all bring their opinions and beliefs to the set.

Zipes agrees with the complexities of who exactly can be considered the adapter, arguing that because a story is liable to change over time, an adaptation can not be based on one fixed version, as it is likely that those involved with producing the film will have conflicting memories of a tale, and will infer different meanings from it.

It could be said then, that any film made will reflect the general consensus of its collaborators, and that the requirement of adaptations to be first interpreted in order to be re-interpreted means that the deduced meaning is one based on multiple perspectives that are combined to create a singular ideology; often differing greatly to that of the sole author. In this respect, a thorough analysis of Disney's The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast should reveal the company's philosophy at the time that these films were made, and the methods employed to convey the relevant motifs.

Warner suggests that, due to film's re-interpretive nature; the fact that it can reflect current cultural values and themes, and can reshape an existing story to fit with these ideologies means that, when it takes the form of a fairy tale that already has denotations of transformation and alteration, it can be utilised as the packaging for commenting on contemporary issues, and how best to solve them, which can be interwoven into a familiar narrative. As such, the fairy tale film can convert real life concerns into the trials and tribulations of the on-screen protagonists in their make-believe worlds; forming a newly manufactured perspective on reality as held by its creators, and asking the audience to re-evaluate their attitudes, behaviours, and roles within society:

The fairy tale […] becomes a tool for thought, a multicoloured skein of images with which to think about the real, both reiterating and shaping the real in restructured narratives, reassembled images. (1993:17)

The revision of prior material guarantees a willing audience, i.e. those that can be regarded as 'fans' (Laurel, 2005, in Hutcheon, 2006:116), so an adaptation is a safe bet for studios, as it comes complete with a ready-made spectatorship. Disney, which pulls mass audiences for reasons discussed in Chapter One, is able to widen this appeal with the release of its adapted fairy tales that are enjoyed by viewers of all ages.

Consequently, Disney can use such tales as The Little Mermaid as a vehicle for its own beliefs and objectives; for instance, Byrne and McQuillan target the mermaid's name in the film, Ariel, as a site of consumerist connotations. They argue that the name 'Ariel' holds associations with the device used to send and receive television signals. As she simultaneously shares her name with a well-known variety of washing powder, Ariel becomes a symbol of commodification and marketing; as advertisements for such products are sent across the globe innumerable times via satellite. In other words, Byrne and McQuillan posit Ariel as a reflection of capitalism, branding and necessity, which Disney further illustrates via her extensive hoard of shipwreck finds:

[…] 'Ariel' is [...] a popular brand of soap powder in Western Europe. An 'aerial' is also the receptive apparatus on a television, the part which absorbs and mediates signals from outside. In terms of the Eastern bloc this means picking up channels of communication from the West, in particular advertisements for consumer goods. She is then the very embodiment of consumer-fetishism and demonstrates this by collecting 'human stuff' [...]. (1999:23)

As mentioned previously, Disney positions itself as a communicator of knowledge and wisdom to its viewers, and guarantees to provide feelings of community and comfort in the form of its beautiful scenery, engaging characters, and its apparently innocent principles. It is clear that Disney implemented the fairy tale genre as a means to conceal its own agenda, distracting the audience with fantasy and promises of wish-fulfilment, while subliminally delivering ideas of consumerism and mass-production. In addition, Zipes (2011) claims that one of the key reasons for Walt Disney's employment of the fairy tale was to place himself as not only the best storyteller, but the teller of the best stories.

According to Zipes, Disney's aim to be a site of enchantment and pleasure was perpetuated by its underlying aspirations for the status of utopia, which could be achieved by replacing the memories of classic tales with those of their animated adaptation. By applying Disney's famous signature to each film, the studio inscribes ownership over the stories and, rather than commemorating the fairy tale's longevity, the viewer is made to forget, and believe that this version is the original and, subsequently, the superior.

Conversely, Disney neither encourages freedom of imagination, nor stands as the provider of desire; rather, it pushes its own opinions and views on to the spectator, who is effectively powerless to resist, as they have long been persuaded into believing everything this institution tells them. Disney's pledge to satisfy the needs and wants of its audience means its ethos will be accepted willingly, with little challenge, because of the trust the studio has engendered. Zipes explains that:

The telos of all Disney's fairy-tale films is to shape the vision of the spectators so that they are convinced and believe that they share in the values and accomplishments of the narrative, thus obviating any or all contradictions. The imagination of the spectators is thus curbed by the calculations of fantasy imposed by the film, and individual wishes are denied or caught in the snare of the fantasy. (2011:25)

Disney was not the first film-maker to adapt fairy tales, as the tradition began with Méliès at the end of the 19th century, who used his famous creativity to recreate the stories of Perrault. Warner writes that the long-standing fascination that directors have with this genre is a result of its ability to reproduce the subconscious thoughts that exist within every viewer. Like the teachings of Bettelheim, Warner explains that film can tap into, and visually recreate, the anxieties that are shared by spectators, bringing these fears into consciousness, and allowing them to be addressed and overcome. Hence, the escapist enchantment and fantasy of a fairy tale film allows for the covert tackling of individual and societal dilemmas, and works to resolve these by instructing the audience to conform to a prescribed set of rules and regulations that, in reality, benefit the desired polemic of those behind the camera.

To most effectively trace the alterations that Disney has made to the literary versions of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, and understand their motivations, this dissertation will use Propp's model as a basis for a comparative analysis between de Beaumont's; as the most familiar rendition, and Andersen's tales, and their cinematic equivalents. The findings of this investigation will be discussed throughout the remainder of this chapter, while the third section of this dissertation will respond to any discoveries that are related to questions of female representation from a post-feminist viewpoint.

Propp's Morphology of the Folktale, first published in 1928, describes how all fairy tales are constructed from a selection of 31 basic functions and that, while every function may not be found in every tale, they will always appear in the same order. This goes some way to explaining the repetitive nature of the fairy tale, whose familiarity is produced not only by its re-reading and re-telling, but by the recycling of its essential framework. Principally, a function is the specific behaviours of the story's protagonists; how they react to events, and how these reactions impact on others, and on the narrative's progression or, to use Propp's definition:

'Function is understood as an act of a character, defined from the point of view of its significance for the course of the action.' (1968:21)

By studying which functions occur, and to whom they have been attributed; the 'dramatis persona' (1968:20), the meanings and purpose of a tale can be established.

In the majority of cases, a fairy tale will begin with an 'initial situation' (1968:25) that could be one of a number of seemingly insignificant facts, which, will form the catalyst for the following chain of events, or functions. In the literary versions of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, the initial situation is the introduction of the respective families, with Beauty and the mermaid being positioned as the youngest of six children. Bettelheim suggests that, when a protagonist is the youngest sibling, it reflects the fragile condition of a child's ego, and their fears surrounding adulthood, serving to provide them with future aspirations, and feelings of support and comfort.

While Ariel does have sisters in Disney's interpretation, they play a smaller role than in Andersen's book; where their first experiences above the surface are described; they visit the mermaid after her human transformation; and sell their hair to the sea witch in exchange for the knife that the youngster must use to kill the prince. Instead, the scenes in which Ariel's sisters appear are towards the beginning of the film, when they are seen singing and dancing as part of a concert, and later, following Ariel's first meeting with Prince Eric, where they are admiring their reflections in a mirror. It could be argued that the lack of focus on Ariel's siblings increases her importance and independence as the film's lead, making her more responsible for the decisions that she will make as the story progresses. Yet, a likewise effect could have been achieved from the complete absence of sisters, as their role in the narrative is minimal; they are merely there to perform, cajole Ariel into taking care of her appearance, and inform their oblivious father that his youngest is in love.

Though it initially seems that Disney has provided Ariel with sisters as a mode of emotional support and female solidarity, and to alleviate the concerns of their young viewers, they instead connote values of beauty, vanity, and bodily appearance.

Unlike her literary counterpart, Belle is an only child, relieved from the intolerance and spitefulness of Beauty's sisters. Again, this could signify Belle's autonomy, and the freedom to make her own choices, rather than succumbing to the pressures of her siblings' attitudes, as in the case of Beauty. However, as this dissertation will go on to argue, Belle is not the liberated and empowered figure that Disney alludes to; in fact, she is not even the film's protagonist.

As well as the presentation of the family, the initial situation could include the introduction of the protagonist, either by name, or via a description of their personality and familial role. This occurs in de Beaumont's tale, and mutually in Andersen's, where the merits of Beauty and the little mermaid are laid out in contrast to the pair's siblings:

His daughters were extremely handsome, especially the youngest; when she was little, every body admired her, and called her The little Beauty, so that, as she grew up, she still went by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters very jealous. The youngest, as she was handsome, was also better than her sisters. (De Beaumont, 2008:1)

'They were six lovely children, but the youngest was the fairest of them all. Her skin was as clear and opalescent as a rose petal. Her eyes were as blue as the deepest sea.' (Andersen, 1994:40)

Andersen and de Beaumont continue to portray their protagonists in this vein for a time, detailing Beauty's love of reading, and devotion to her father, and the mermaid's quietness, and longing to see above the surface. Hence, the audience is immediately made aware of the qualities and backgrounds of the heroes, which can help to offer understanding and justification of their actions.

Neither Ariel nor Belle are the first characters to be seen; as it is Prince Eric, on board his ship, and Beast, before his transformation, that begin the two narratives. Though Ariel is not visible on screen, her presence is felt, as Eric and his crew discuss the legendary 'merpeople', and King Triton's powers over the water. Although not mentioned specifically by name, the existence of Ariel and her family is obvious, as is their status as sea dwellers. The effect that Ariel will have on Eric's future is also alluded to, with the idea that the state of the sea on which his ship sails is a result of Triton's moods perhaps posing as an allegory for the prince's life potentially being turned upside down by the influence of the merpeople.

In comparison, Disney's Beauty and the Beast opens with the story of the Prince's transformation into the Beast, which will be examined further, and is dictated to the audience by a narrator, with images whose mise-en-scène reflects that of a more traditional style of storytelling, as you can see here:

The fact that this sequence is narrated, and presented in a different way is interesting to note for a number of reasons. Firstly, as Warner maintains, the teller of a fairy tale usually remains distanced from the story's content; even the narrators of oral tales were not obliged to make subjective observations on the unfolding events. Similarly in film-making, attention is not drawn to the presence of the camera, i.e. the director's gaze, as this conveys a more realistic effect. Here, the use of a narrator denotes a sense of nostalgia and comfort, and aims to tap into the viewer's childhood memories of listening to this story. The mise-en-scène's echoing of the illustrations and engravings commonly found within the pages of storybooks enhances these recollections, and both elements coincide to imply Disney's authoritative role as storyteller, as well as its supposed fidelity to the written version.

To adhere to Propp's predetermined set of functions, an evaluation of the content of the above scene must be temporarily postponed in favour of its predecessor; the lack of a parent. This is the first of the 31 functions, following the initial situation, and is a common device of the fairy tale. In the literary editions, Beauty and the mermaid's mothers are deceased, and the girls are raised by their fathers. Bettelheim claims that the lack of mother typically results in a stronger oedipal attachment between father and daughter (1991:112), and when the father is not as dutiful as he should be, the young woman is still able to cope, as she is safe in the knowledge that she will be rescued by a prince. In psycho-analytical terms, these relationships comfort the reader, allaying any feelings of guilt they may have over perceiving their father as dominant and overbearing, or as an 'evil giant' (1991:114). Bettelheim observes that the authority and control these fathers have over their daughters makes up for their consistent incompetency, and allows children to forgive them of failings in the real world because they have been led to believe that they too will find true love:

The little girl can love her real father all the better because her resentment over his failure to prefer her to her mother is explained by his ineffectuality [...], for which nobody can blame him since it is due to superior powers; besides, it will not prevent her from getting her prince. (1991:114-115)

On the other hand, Andersen's mermaid does have her paternal grandmother, who is responsible for telling her stories of the humans, and of her destiny to float as foam on the sea. This could be for autobiographical reasons, with Andersen paying tribute to his own grandmother, and the tales that she used to tell him. Bettelheim makes the case that this inclusion of a caring woman is ordinarily depicted in the form of a memory from the protagonist's past, which becomes ineffective over time, but provides a sense of maternal support. The mermaid's grandmother, while not a memory, occupies this role, as it is she who offers advice and wisdom, while the father remains a powerful yet distant presence.

Subsequently, the mermaid receives the majority of her information on the outside world from her grandmother, perhaps signifying the notion that the tradition of passing on stories is inherently a female one. It is the grandmother that tells the reader a story too, as she explains the rules of the mermaids' first visits to the surface, and this, coupled with the strong bond with her youngest granddaughter, denotes feelings of solidarity and familial respect.

The actions of the mermaid and Beauty are set into motion by these relationships with their caregivers; the mermaid's grandmother fills her head with enticing tales of the land above the sea, while Beauty's actions are driven by her love for her father, as debated in the last post.

There are no birth mothers in Disney's renditions, with Triton and Maurice, Belle's father, solely responsible for the upbringing of their daughters. In her criticism of the 'Disney Princess' brand, Worthington argues that Disney's typical lack of the matriarch means that it is easier to avoid the complexities and negative associations surrounding this figure. For now, it can be said that, from Worthington's perspective, the absence of Belle and Ariel's mothers, and the unsuccessful attempts of their fathers to guide and protect them could be deemed as demonstrating the girls' autonomy, and their self-led motivations for liberation. They are not encouraged to seek the wider world, indeed Ariel is forbidden, and Belle's father naively believes that she has everything she needs right where she is. Nonetheless, both characters escape the confines of their minimal lives without any help from a mother figure, yet the achievement of their aspirations is a result of Eric and Beast's respective love, so they remain answerable to others, even if it is not their parents.

Propp's next function is the 'interdiction' (1968:27), where the hero is given information consisting of a warning, an order, or simply friendly advice. If an interdiction is offered then, according to Propp, it will be defied, resulting in the introduction of the villain, whose job it is to disrupt the protagonist's peaceful existence, and to bring about their downfall.

Without doubt, de Beaumont's Beauty and Andersen's mermaid are the receivers of the interdiction, with the former being instructed that she must accompany her father and sisters to earn a living in the country, whereas the latter is told by her grandmother that she will be allowed to visit the surface once she has reached her 15th birthday. While not commands, they are rules nonetheless, and compliance with their conditions benefits the heroes by keeping them safe and with their families. Of course, Beauty obeys, and agrees to help her father in any way she can; in this case by taking on the domestic duties. The mermaid too is acquiescent, waiting for the day that she can view the world above the sea and, even though her excitement increases with every story she hears from her sisters, she is never tempted to disobey direction.

To coincide with Propp's thesis, Beauty and the mermaid are clearly defined as the tales' heroes; they are the first characters to be fully introduced, and are the recipients of instructions intended to protect them. Ordinarily, the breaking of such protocols would lead to the progression of the narrative, as the protagonist's disobedience results in danger for themselves and their families that would need to be overcome to regain harmony and control. This is not the case here; rather, it is the women's obedience that furthers the development of the stories, as Beauty's meeting with Beast is the consequence of her loyalty to her father; she frees him from captivity by offering herself as a replacement. The only reason the mermaid sees and falls in love with the prince, and then rescues him from drowning, is because his ship happens to be sailing by on the day that she is permitted to swim to the surface. Subsequently, the remainder of Andersen's The Little Mermaid is the outcome of the girl's abiding by the laws of her people, fuelled by the tales that she is told.

In this way, de Beaumont and Andersen's tales signify the correct mode of behaviour that was expected of women at this time; to respect the boundaries that have been set to them, even if they lead to threat or unhappiness.

Contrastingly, Ariel does not obey the interdiction given to her by her father, who forbids her from swimming above the water, and she is not told stories of this other world, as she can see it first hand. It is her flouting of the rules that drives the narrative forward, as her violation of the interdiction causes her to meet Eric, and to seek out Ursula, the villain, to request help in achieving her aim; the prince's love.

Ariel symbolises a modern teenager, who tests her parent's boundaries, and risks her safety, to satisfy her selfish desires. Although Ariel relies on the assistance of those around her to achieve her goals, and ends up with no more freedom than when she began, she at least demonstrates a longing for autonomy, and bases her desires on her own experiences of the outside world, rather than on second-hand tales. Essentially, Ariel is a spoilt, self-centred child who demands that everything should revolve around her and, while Disney does not give this character an easy time, she does not suffer the same physical traumas as Andersen's mermaid.

Disney's tale does not end with Ariel's death; as she apparently lives happily ever after with her prince, nor does her transformation into a human cause her any pain. It seems that Disney is rewarding Ariel's attitude, providing her with exactly what she wanted, and even giving her the blessing of her father, who grants her permanent legs, and witnesses her wedding. The corporation advocates Ariel's greed, as in the end she literally has everything; voice, legs, prince, and proud parent. As Nadel states, this coincides with the contemporary 'voodoo economy ' (1997:90), where trade; Ariel's substitution of her voice for legs, results in gain for the consumer. To Nadel, this is how Disney, as a site of commodification and fetishisation, depicts their notion of a happy ending; by having it all:

'This […] constitutes the only possible means by which Ariel, the princess of mermaids under the sea, can become princess of the world to which she aspires, up there on land.' (1997:90)

Millar agrees, and quotes the curator of the Hans Christian Andersen Museum as saying the following:

'Andersen was saying in this story […] that you cannot always expect to shape your own destiny, but must try to have a good life and trust in God's mercy.' (Eskildsen in Millar, 1997:8)

The observation that Andersen's mermaid has little independence or initiative in comparison to Ariel is attributable to the writer's religious beliefs, and the notion that no one has the ability to make their own decisions, as a prescribed fate is dealt no matter what. While Disney's ideology seems more contemporary and positive, as it places responsibility with the individual, it remains concerned with the values of necessity and acquisition, with the idea that Ariel deserves this good fortune because she is such a headstrong and purposeful example of a modern woman.

To return to Beauty and the Beast, and an examination of Propp's functions, though de Beaumont plainly situates Beauty as the hero of the tale, with the narrative events revolving around the actions of her character, Disney does not follow suit. On the contrary, the first character that the audience is introduced to is Beast, not Belle, and it is he that receives the interdiction.

The film's narrated prologue, as detailed above, tells of a handsome prince who lacks nothing in terms of material possessions, but whose personality is considerably flawed. He is approached one day by an old woman, begging for refuge in exchange for a rose; an offer that he immediately refuses, because of his disgust of her haggard appearance. The beggar responds by issuing the man with a warning, or interdiction, to not be deceived by appearances as 'beauty comes from within' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), but he still rejects her, causing her to revert to her true form of a beautiful sorceress. In accordance with Propp's order of functions, this woman is the film's villain, emerging as a result of the hero's denial of the terms of the interdiction, and bringing him harm by transforming him into a beast.

The viewer is told that the curse can only be lifted once the prince has found love, and has these feelings reciprocated, and the sequence ends with the narrator telling of the Beast's anguish, finally posing the question of who could learn to love this creature.

Disney's tale is centred on the character of Beast, with his desire for freedom and love being the narrative's driving force. Belle, on the other hand, is positioned as the answer to his dilemma; indeed, following the narrator's above query, the very next frame is of her, as if the camera is figuratively pointing to her as the key to Beast's salvation. To this end, and to use Propp's vocabulary, Belle is the donor of the tale who, like Beauty, first meets Beast when bargaining for her father's release. Unlike Beauty, whose acceptance of Beast and change in attitude towards him is the focus of de Beaumont's story, Belle stands as merely the means to an end.

It is Beast, and his behaviour that is at the heart of the Disney version, whereas Belle provides the foundations for his reactions; her eventual tolerance and care incites his love for her, which is returned, leading to his transformation back into the prince. In the book, Beast's curse is not mentioned until the finale, as his physical transformation is not as important as Beauty's love for him, for she represents the concept of the tolerant woman, who must learn to overlook the faults of her husband-to-be.

In summary, Disney's Beauty and the Beast situates the male hero as an innocent victim of his surroundings; his failed upbringing leads to his negative encounter with the female villain, who casts a spell that can only be broken by the love of a patient woman. Like the mermaid, Belle, Beauty and Ariel, Beast requires the assistance of others in order to change, but as Part IV will demonstrate, this does not mean that the power automatically resides with Belle. On the contrary, it is Belle's submissiveness and obedience as the donor that leads to Beast's ascension to power, not her own.

Bibliography:

Andersen, H. C. (1994) 'The Little Mermaid' in: Fairy Tales: Hans Andersen, Penguin Popular Classics: Berkshire, p.39-65.

Bettelheim, B. (1991) The Uses of Enchantment, Penguin: London.

Byrne, E. & McQuillan, M. (1999) Deconstructing Disney, Pluto Press: London

Hutcheon, L. (2006) A Theory of Adaptation, Routledge: New York.

Le Prince de Beaumont, J. M. (2008) Beauty and the Beast, Forgotten Books.

Millar, P. (1997) 'Plunder - Disney Tears up Our Heritage' in: The European Issue, August 28-September 3, p.8-12.

Propp, V. Morphology of the Folktale (1968) Indiana University Press:

USA

Warner, M. (1994) From The Beast To The Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers, Random House: London.

Zipes, J. D. (1999) When Dreams Came True: Classical Fairy Tales and Their Tradition, Routledge: London.

Zipes, J. (2011) The Enchanted Screen: The Unknown History of Fairy-Tale Films, Routledge: New York.

The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part II.

2012-07-12T13:37:00.000+01:00

Today's post will investigate the general role of the fairy tale, from evaluating its structure and purpose, to examining who the tellers and listeners are. It will go on to take a closer look at the tales of Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid, and will discuss the themes and values of their past versions; exploring a post-feminist perspective in order to ascertain the differing portrayal of women. This will provide a basis for a comparison between Disney's adaptations, and their literary predecessors.

I couldn't begin to state exactly when and where the fairy tale originated; I'm not sure anyone could for definite. What is possible is to trace its influence, and its common conventions, as it passes from one generation to the next.

Before the arrival of the printing press in 1440, stories could only be shared by word-of-mouth, and it was up to the teller to ensure that these tales, and the messages that they contained, survived. The purpose of the oral tale is similarly difficult to pinpoint, as there are many reasons for telling a story; to caution, instruct, advise, worship, and so on and, as the tales were spoken, they were liable to change depending on the narrator, and their motives.

Kready discusses the function of early storytelling, noting that fairy tales were the leftover scraps of ancient myths, and were adapted to include people and places that the audience would be familiar with; the protagonists being replaced by local heroes. In this way, it is likely that such stories could have been used as morale boosters, providing the poorer members of the community with the necessary motivations to carry on despite adversity, like their heroes. Indeed, Kready maintains that the content of the myths were altered slightly, with the 'monstrous element modified' (2008:108), while the fantasy, and extraordinary feats of the heroes, were left in.

Though these adaptations may have made the tales more appealing to the listener, as the relative ease with which the protagonist succeeds would convey hopes and aspirations within themselves, they are simultaneously suggestive of the origins of the 'happy ending' formula regularly found in fairy tales.

Stories evolved to fit their environment, and the differing values and attitudes of those who adopted them. All the while, the identity of the teller was clear, as these tales had to be passed on directly; they could not be written down. This changed with the 15th century innovation of the printing press, leading to an increase in literacy throughout the population; with this the oral tale began to go through significant alterations.

In the beginning, the subject matter of the fairy tale was condemned, as a result of its allegorical nature that could be interpreted in a number of ways, depending on the reader. While fairy tales have always existed for the purpose of commenting on the behaviour of society, and alluding to the correct attitude to take, as well as the aforesaid objectives of trade, reverence, and support, once they were converted to literature, these ideas were regarded as too prescriptive. It was believed that the morals of the tales would be taken literally, and that their hidden meanings were dangerous, almost sinister. Hence, it was thought best that children not be permitted to read or hear fairy tales, in case the underlying principles affected their innocence.

It was not until the 1820s, according to Zipes (1999:18), that children were allowed access to fairy tales, yet these were watered down versions, with the bulk of the intended significance removed. Even so, fairy tales were still regarded as unsuitable for young readers, partly for the reason that, because of their derivation from the oral tradition, they were considered beneath the needs of the literate, and because the fantastical elements could lead to inappropriate behaviour, such as masturbation (1999:18). If children were given permission to read fairy tales, these would probably be modified adaptations that contained safe, non-subversive connotations that could not be misinterpreted or, to use Zipes' words, the aim of these stories was 'the domestication of the imagination' (1995:25).

In opposition to the above mode of thinking, that fairy tales are harmful to children, Bettelheim's seminal work of the 1970s maintained that, in reality, such stories prove beneficial to the development of their young readers' psyches. Akin to the Freudian style of psychoanalysis, where individuals are encouraged to make sense of their lives by overcoming seemingly impossible and daunting experiences, Bettelheim's theory instructs that the fairy tale teaches children that life is complex and, rather than trying to escape the inevitable, they must face each challenge head-on to achieve success:

Freud's prescription is that only by struggling courageously against what seem like overwhelming odds can man succeed in wringing meaning out of his existence. This is exactly the message that fairy tales get across to the child in manifold form: that a struggle against severe difficulties in life is unavoidable, is an intrinsic part of human existence – and that if one does not shy away, but steadfastly meets unexpected and often unjust hardships, one masters all obstacles and at the end emerges victorious. (1991:8)

Fairy tales allow young readers to work through problems, and expand the capacity of, their conscious minds or, in Freudian terms, their egos, which alleviates stresses that may exist within the pre-conscious super-ego, or the unconscious id. The general progression of a fairy tale's narrative; the hero's victory after overcoming adversities, gives physical form to the intangible id, and provides the child with coping strategies that correspond to those related to the needs of the ego and super-ego.

Bettelheim believes that, rather than the whimsical, unreal qualities of a fairy tale causing harm to young readers, the fantasy operates as a safe location for understanding reality. Without undergoing this practice, a child's ego may become so inhibited that underlying unconscious issues may never be dealt with, and could lead to permanently damaging their personality.

Thus, the imaginative process is encouraged, as is the often concealed idea of the existence of evil, which is commonly addressed by fairy tales in their depiction of good and bad characters. Malevolent individuals motivated by compulsions of greed, jealousy and lack, demonstrate to a child the real-life existence of like-minded, unsavoury people. The strong delineation of moral and immoral behaviours, with little between the two, coincides with the polarised workings of a child's mind, as children are more inclined to recognise distinctive behavioural qualities, and favour or discriminate one over another, if they are clearly defined. This juxtaposition of good and evil creates an ethical dilemma within the reader's conscious mind; they are provoked into doubting and then rejecting the incentives of the villain, while sympathising with the hardships of the hero, learning the basic principles of human virtue, or as Bettelheim puts it:

'The child makes such identifications all on his own, and the inner and outer struggles of the hero imprint morality on him.' (1991:9)

This conflict of right versus wrong is presented to the child from within the safe confines of a magical realm, and kept separate from reality by the simple act of closing a book after the story has been read. Even if a tale is recited verbally, in the fashion of the oral tradition, without the symbolic closure of a book, the customary happy ending that has previously been discussed as engendering wish-fulfilment and hope, signifies further security, as the life of the hero is assumed to stretch before them indefinitely, which Bettelheim believes helps to decrease anxieties surrounding death.

Another key aspect of Bettelheim's critique is his thoughts on the typical fairy tale device of the hero's quest for true love that, he claims, connotes the longing for unity and attachment that is shared by all. The fact that the hero almost always succeeds in acquiring the object of his search helps to assure the reader that they too will find their heart's desire, which further allays fears of mortality, and of dying alone, as well as the dread of separation, in this case from the mother.

To this end, the fairy tale works as a form of preparation for the realities of life, particularly for children, whose minds are especially susceptible to the content and framework of this genre. The tendency of fairy tales to allude to certain morals and themes via ciphers and coded meanings instantly targets children, and corresponds to the way they rationalise problems. It is this, and the knowledge that a story will end happily, that makes children trust and believe in fairy tales as sites of self-understanding, reassurance and, in the end, pleasure. Alternative forms of teaching, that offer a more realistic perspective, do not benefit children to the same degree because, as Bettelheim notes, young minds are not capable of grasping non-figurative ideas; those that can not be broken down into a series of cohesive images:

'[…] realistic explanations are usually incomprehensible to children, because they lack the abstract understand required to make sense of them.' (1991:47-48)

Undoubtedly, the underlying principles behind the fairy tale's resonance with children are the same as those that make Disney films popular with this audience. The colourful and cartoonish mise-en-scène of a Disney feature removes it from reality enough to make its motifs conceivable and within reach of a child's literal imagination, yet retains sufficient verisimilitude for its teachings to be applied to the real world. As a result of their prior knowledge of the Disney canon, spectators are confident that the film they are watching will end happily; the hero will win out, and the evil will be banished. Whatever its subject, a Disney film becomes like a fairy tale in itself, and its intentions to convey a particular polemic echoes the main objectives of fairy stories.

When Disney becomes the teller of a fairy tale, as in the case of its adaptations of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, and combines its mode of address with that of its literary counterpart, it effectively becomes twice as powerful. Young viewers accept what they see as truth because this is what they have always known; that Disney equals innocence and integrity, while the fairy tale denotes an understanding of reality, and the combined influence of the two institutions would be difficult for children to challenge.

Before Disney could take on the role of teller, the tales first had to be written, and then absorbed into public knowledge, which, in the case of Beauty and the Beast, was a long and complex process. A number of critics and scholars are of the view that the story of Beauty and the Beast can be traced as far back as 150 A. D., (Warner, 1994 & Griswold, 2004) with the Roman fable of Metamorphoses, which featured the characters of Cupid, the first 'Beast', and Psyche as Beauty. However, Griswold suggests that this was probably based on Greek oral folk tales, where Cupid's predecessor would have been Eros, and whose own ancestor would likely have been the transformed gods of Egyptian myth. As it is impossible to determine the exact moment that Beauty and the Beast was created, this dissertation will use the fairly well-known and influential legend of Cupid and Psyche as a starting point for an analysis of the tale's progression.

In the Roman edition, Cupid is instructed by his jealous mother, Venus, to make the beautiful Psyche fall in love with a hideous creature but, upon seeing her, Cupid pricks himself with the enchanted arrow, and falls deeply in love. Although attractive, and the daughter of a wealthy king, Psyche was never proposed to, and her parents were told to abandon her. Eventually she finds her way to a magical castle, inhabited by invisible occupants, and is visited at night by the owner, who forbids her from seeing his true self. Later, Psyche is persuaded by her visiting sisters that the reason for her husband's secrecy is that he is a monster, and that her only option is to kill him. Psyche inadvertently wakes her husband, Cupid, and on seeing her disloyalty, and a knife in her hand, Cupid leaves. Desperate to find him, Psyche asks Venus for help, and is set a number of tasks, of which she is successful. Finally, Cupid discovers what is happening, and rescues Psyche from his mother's torment, before marrying her and turning her into an immortal goddess.

Warner writes that this early rendition inverts the characters of Beauty and Beast as, while Cupid's hidden identity sets him up as dangerous, he is in fact beautiful and kind. On the other hand, Psyche is established as perfection in terms of her looks, but her personality is flawed, as she is easily led by her sisters to disregard Cupid's one rule, in order to satisfy her curiosity. When it is put to her that her husband could be a monster, Psyche is prepared to protect herself, and her later search, and the completion of tasks, demonstrates the development of her character from selfish to selfless. Accordingly, this story is one of change, particularly in the case of Psyche, a privileged woman who is asked to sacrifice her shallow beliefs as a means of benefiting herself; as it can not be forgotten that she becomes a goddess at the end of this tale, and the feelings of those around her.

Psyche, or Beauty, is the protagonist of this story, as the narrative concentrates on the modification of her personality, and her journey to find herself and her lover. In contrast, Cupid as Beast is depicted as menacing and omnipotent, with the secrecy of his identity posing as a danger to Psyche's innocence and naïveté, which Warner suggests is the common take on this story when the narrator is female:

The Beauty and the Beast story is a classic fairy tale of transformation, which, when told by a woman, places the male lover, the Beast, in the position of the mysterious, threatening, possibly fatal unknown, and Beauty, the heroine, as the questor who discovers his true nature. (1994:275)

It is presumed by Warner that, as writers became aware of Beauty and the Beast, and the number of adaptations increased, its target audience became predominantly women. Owing to the themes of female virtue and purity, and the fear of powerful, intimidating and, perhaps, aggressive men, the tale tended to connect with the fears of women, and it was largely this that resulted in the majority of the story's adapters being female. Even though a version of the tale was published by Perrault in 1697, as part of his Mother Goose collection, it was not until the end of the 18th century, with the French writers Madames de Villeneuve and Le Prince de Beaumont, that Beauty and the Beast became the recognisable story that it is today.

Villeneuve's version principally comments on society's attitudes towards marriage, and the patriarchal oppression of women. As Warner proposes, it was customary for girls from this period to be forced into loveless marriage by their fathers, often to husbands that posed a physical or mental risk. So Villeneuve's tale, which contains similar connotations to its Roman predecessor, addresses cultural issues that correspond to the current anxieties of its female consumers.

Madame de Beaumont's shorter tale, published 16 years after Villeneuve's, retains a similar narrative to the previous version, and instructs the reader to respect their family, and abide by the laws set to them by men. In this story, Beauty is one of six children, though her brothers barely feature, and her relationship with her sisters is tenuous. Being incredibly vain, Beauty's sisters are jealous of her looks, her kind persona and the male attention that she receives, yet she never retaliates towards their attitude, and appears to modify her behaviour to satisfy them. When the girls' father leaves to try and reclaim his lost fortune, he tells his daughters that he will bring them each back a gift of their choice. Naturally, the sisters choose expensive items, such as clothing and jewellery, but selflessly, Beauty desires nothing, as she knows that the money her father is due will barely cover the cost of her siblings' wishes. Rather than admitting these concerns and making her sisters look selfish, Beauty merely asks for a rose:

"Since you are so kind as to think of me, (answered she,) be so kind as to bring me a rose, for as none grow hereabouts, they are a kind of rarity." Not that Beauty cared for a rose, but she asked for something, lest she should seem by her example to condemn her sisters' conduct, who would have said she did it only to look particular. (2008:3)

Here, de Beaumont insinuates that Beauty, as the youngest child, must sacrifice her beliefs and morals in order to appease the feelings and well-being of her family. The story is focused on Beauty's appearance, which is referred to numerous times, and her placid, 'affable, obliging' (2008:2) and patient nature, and it seems that she is the personification of the ideal woman. Moreover, Beauty epitomises the perfect daughter, remaining loyal to her father, and meekly following him to their new home in the countryside, where she takes on the role of the domesticated woman; cooking and cleaning for her family which, according to de Beaumont, even results in added health benefits for her:

'In the beginning she found it very difficult, for she had not been used to work as a servant; but in less than two months she grew stronger and healthier than ever.' (2008:2)

Ultimately, Beauty is figured as undergoing training to be the perfect housewife, with her subservience and desire to place the needs of others before her own proving useful later on in the narrative, when she meets Beast.

Beauty's first meeting with Beast is a result of her father's punishment for taking a rose from the creature's garden; so what was an innocent request becomes the catalyst for the potential downfall of her and her family. In payment for his crime, Beast demands that Beauty's father brings him one of his daughters, and sends the man home. Upon hearing what has happened, and learning that it was her desire that caused this, Beauty accompanies her father to the Beast's castle, where she becomes his prisoner. Initially, Beauty's life with Beast is full of fear, as she believes she will be eaten but, as time goes on, Beauty learns to tolerate this creature, who shows her nothing but kindness, and comes to realise that he is actually a gentleman.

After three months of living with Beast, and refusing numerous marriage proposals, Beauty is allowed to go and tend to her ill father, as long as she promises to return to Beast in one week. All the while she is with her father, Beauty worries about Beast being alone, and dreams that he is dying. It is here that she decides that she does want to marry him, and reproaches herself for judging his looks over his compassion. On arriving back at the castle, Beauty finds that Beast really is dying; his misery at losing her caused him to starve himself, and she agrees to marriage. Beauty's acceptance results in the Beast's transformation into a handsome prince, and the pair wed; becoming king and queen.

It is posited in this story's climax that Beauty's eventual marriage benefits her greatly, as she receives aristocratic status, and with it the expected advantages of wealth and status. In reality, this partnership is a consequence of Beauty's submission and compliance to the oppressive rules of patriarchy. Throughout the tale, Beauty has repressed her inner desires and wants to abide by the rules of the male-dominated society and, on the few occasions that she has asked for something she, or someone that she loves, is punished; even though any minute demands that she does make are always to help others.

As a well-educated and happily married teacher, de Beaumont's tale educates her female students in the art of becoming textbook wives, which not only involves answering to men, but tolerating them and their potential faults, as this acceptance may lead to the unveiling of a good man. As Warner observes:

[Madame de Beaumont is a] teacher raising her pupils to face their future obediently and decorously, to hear her pious wish that [they] should obey their fathers and that inside the brute of a husband who might be their appointed lot, the heart of a good man might beat, given a bit of encouragement [...]. (1994:293)

Warner maintains that de Beaumont's Beauty and the Beast sets the scene for the typical women of the Victorian era, whose purpose was to keep house, raise and tutor their daughters to be good and patient wives, and put the needs of their husbands first; at whatever cost. Viewed from this angle, Beauty and the Beast's pre-cinematic versions strongly oppose the later, post-feminist stance on the portrayal of women, who are encouraged to adopt a more self-serving attitude, and liberate themselves from the constraints of male dominance in the home, workplace and wider society. In accordance, female consumers of a contemporary adaptation of Beauty and the Beast may expect Beauty to be independent and self-motivated; a woman that would ensure that she alone was responsible for the meeting of her desires, and would choose to be with Beast because she loves him, and that this is the right decision for her.

In 1837, the young Danish writer Hans Christian Andersen wrote The Little Mermaid which, though adapted numerous times for stage and screen, remains the only literary version of the tale. Furthermore it is believed that, in contrast to Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid is not a direct descendant of oral tales but, like the majority of Andersen's stories, was based on his personal experiences, and influenced by literary works. In this case, Altmann and De Vos cite Foqué's Undine (1811); a romantic tale from

Germany

about a young sea-dwelling sprite who acquires a soul by marrying Huldebrand, the knight, is cited as The Little Mermaid's forefather. Undine derives from the writings of the Swiss astrologer and alchemist Paracelsus, who told stories of the spirits of nature, one of them being Undine, who sacrifice their immortality in exchange for an eternal soul, as a result of their marriages to humans.

In Undine, the water spirit, or mermaid, does win the heart of Huldebrand, but he can not help feeling threatened, because she retains the magical abilities that she was born with. Huldebrand is persuaded by his ex-lover to leave Undine and marry her instead, breaking Undine's heart, and her plea for him to remain forever loyal to her. Unable to live without Huldebrand's love, Undine resorts to killing him, releasing her from his hold, and allowing her to return to the water without the burden of the soul that she had once deeply desired.

According to Altmann and De Vos, Undine's conclusion did not sit well with Andersen, who disliked the mermaid's reliance on the love and acceptance of others in order to gain her soul. Instead, he judged that the future of the mermaid should rely on fate and chance, possibly stemming from his religious upbringing, and the hardships that he faced growing up:

I have not [...] allow[ed] the mermaid's acquiring of an immortal soul to depend on an alien creature, upon the love of a human being. I'm sure that's wrong! It would depend rather a lot on chance, wouldn't it? I won't accept that sort of thing in this world. I have permitted my mermaid to follow a more natural, a more divine path. (Andersen, 1837, in Altmann & Vos, 2001:178)

It is known that Andersen experienced a difficult childhood; his parents were very poor, and it is intimated by some critics that he struggled his entire life with the repression of homosexual feelings (Sells, 1995; Zipes, 1999). He sought escapism by accompanying his grandmother to an old people's home, where he would listen to the telling of stories. This proved to be Andersen's inspiration for becoming a writer and, after leaving home at 14 to earn money as a performer, he was sent to school at the age of 17 by a supporter. Due to his family's poverty, and the fact that he was the oldest in his class, Andersen found fitting in at school similarly trying, but succeeded in his exams, and became a published author in 1829.

Set against this brief biography of Andersen, The Little Mermaid can be seen to carry undertones that concur with the reflections and incidents of his life. To begin with, Andersen's mermaid dreams of seeing the world above the sea, but is forbidden by her father to do so until her 15th birthday. In the meantime, she satisfies her curiosities by hearing her grandmother's stories of the humans, and passes the time by tending to a garden in which stands a marble figure of a man. Already, similarities can be drawn between the character of the mermaid and Andersen, as both depend on the fascinating tales of their elders as forms of escapism. In addition, the fact that the statue at the centre of the mermaid's garden is clearly marked as a 'handsome' and 'beautiful' (1994:40) man, symbolises Andersen's hidden love for the male form.

The mermaid's longing for access to the land, and of its associated wonder, excitement and freedoms, can be read as the writer's longing for upward mobility. The mermaid's kingdom appears simple and rustic, perhaps referring to Andersen's poverty-stricken upbringing, while outside is described vividly as being full of colour, lights and people. Hence, the contrast between Andersen's home life, and the existence that he wishes for; one of popularity, fortune and recognition, is demonstrated in the juxtaposition between the mer-world, and that of the humans.

When the little mermaid first experiences life above the surface, she instantly falls in love with the landscape that she views, and a prince that she rescues from a shipwreck. After this, she vows to spend the rest of her life with the prince, insisting that she would rather be mortal, and give up her preordained future of living for 300 years before becoming sea foam. To this end, the mermaid makes a deal with the sea witch, and trades her voice for life as a human, with the proviso that, if she does not win the prince's love, she will be turned into foam on the waves.

The loss of the mermaid's voice, and the physical pain that she endures when changing into human form, which feels 'as if a two-edged sword were going through her delicate body' (1994:54), denotes the mental torment that Andersen no doubt experienced as a result of his suppressed feelings. The mermaid's lack of speech is particularly poignant, as it could suggest Andersen's inability to speak openly about his innate desires, and it may be this factor that led to his career as a writer, for he could at least feel the cathartic unburdening of these emotions through the experiences of his characters. Whereas, the pain of the mermaid's transformation implies the difficulties that Andersen faced when moving from one realm to another; from the privacy and security of his home to the insecurity and scrutiny of the public domain, and the sacrifices that he indisputably would have made.

The story of The Little Mermaid is one of oppression and repression, and of the failure to conform to society's norms. The mermaid is oppressed by the rules of her father, and seeks liberation in the land above the sea, which appears to offer freedom and wish-fulfilment. Yet, because of her inability to communicate in this patriarchal kingdom, and a lack of understanding of the 'real' world, the mermaid fails to make the prince fall in love with her, and her sacrifices effectively lead to nothing.

Andersen too was oppressed, by the conventions of the culture in which he existed, and the move into popularity and notoriety did nothing to alleviate the repression of his inner beliefs, in fact, it would have made it more difficult for him to be himself; causing him to give up his true self for his love of writing.

Like Beauty, the little mermaid is unable to fulfil her wishes without the assistance of others and, although she does escape the dominance of her father, she has to lose the markers of her identity; her voice and tail, to do so. When she does achieve her goal of living among the humans, she is treated as an outcast, an Other that literally can not speak the language and, in a similar vein to Beauty, ends up becoming a victim of her needs. Therefore, while the mermaid may initially be regarded as taking a proactive stance in changing her life, this process is turned into a punishable act, and her selfish pursuit of freedom from the security and sanctity of the sea is met with pain and, finally, death.

Whether these depictions of Beauty and the mermaid change with Disney's contemporary re-workings of the tales will be examined in the next post where, among other critiques, Propp's theory on the functions of the fairy tale will be used to ascertain exactly what changes have been made in the transition from literary to cinematic narrative, and for what purpose.

Bibliography:

Altmann, A. E. & De Vos, G, (2001) Tales, Then and Now: More Folktales as Literary Fictions for Young Adults, Greenwood Publishing Group Inc: Englewood.

Andersen, H. C. (1994) 'The Little Mermaid' in: Fairy Tales: Hans Andersen, Penguin Popular Classics: Berkshire, p.39-65.

Bettelheim, B. (1991) The Uses of Enchantment, Penguin: London.

Griswold, J. (2004) The Meanings of "Beauty and the Beast": A Handbook, Broadview Press Ltd: North America.

Heiner, H. A. (2003) 'Undine' in: SurLaLune Fairy Tales [online]. Available from: http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/littlemermaid/stories/undine.html (Accessed 21 June, 2011)

Kready, L. F. (2008) 'The History of Fairy Tales', in: A Study of Fairy Tales, Forgotten Books, p.106-141

Le Prince de Beaumont, J. M. (2008) Beauty and the Beast, Forgotten Books.

Propp, V. Morphology of the Folktale (1968) Indiana University Press:

USA

Warner, M. (1994) From The Beast To The Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers, Random House: London.

Zipes, J. D. (1999) When Dreams Came True: Classical Fairy Tales and Their Tradition, Routledge: London.

The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part I

2012-07-05T16:39:00.000+01:00

Right, so I've been meaning to get this ball rolling for ages, and here it [finally] is. The following five posts will cover my research on Disney's representatio of women, which I hope will at least proves interesting to those of you who love Disney, fairy tales, reading and feminism – if you can actually love feminism – and maybe even useful to those of you researching these subjects. I'm more than happy for people to use my findings in their own writing, as long as it's properly referenced – only fair – and I'll endeavour to clearly show the references that I used. Any questions though, please do comment. Enjoy.

Spoiler

The following posts examine the role of women in Disney's Renaissance period, specifically The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989) and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), and will compare them to previous literary versions to achieve an understanding of the studio's principle agenda. These posts will feature a close textual analysis of the Disney films, and Propp's theory on the functions of fairy tales will be used to compare the morals and values of these versions with their most famous literary predecessors; those written by Andersen and de Beaumont. It is then posited that the filmic adaptations have been manipulated in such a way as to reflect the corporation's patriarchal and capitalist ideologies, by suggesting that girls like Belle and Ariel are merely submissive constructs of a male dominated society. The supposed autonomy of these characters is explained as signifying the post-feminist tendency of women to seek liberation by gaining access to the workplace, and becoming independent earners. However, Belle and Ariel both long for more; desiring to belong to the 'outside' world, which promises beauty, admiration and freedom. The fact that neither girl is satisfied with life indicates the media's pressure on women to appear a certain way; to change themselves in order to correspond to a set of prescribed norms; and to ultimately become happy and successful. Thus, the outcome is that Disney's young women stand as metonyms for the anxieties of many female viewers, who feel they should work hard to fit into society, and then appear grateful to their male colleagues, for allowing them these freedoms to succeed.

So far so good? On to the intro then.

The Intro

1989 witnessed the beginning of Disney's 'Renaissance era' (Byrne & McQuillan, 1999, et al); lasting roughly until 1999, where the studio once again became a popular, and much-loved, household name – after nearly going down the pan in the late 70s/early 80s. Giroux writes that Disney's increasing economic power, as shown through the buying up of numerous television and film networks during the 1980s and 90s, demonstrated not only domination of the media industry, but of cultural and political hegemony. In other words, Disney acquired authority and influence due to its vastness and, because it is practically impossible to avoid this conglomerate, it is similarly impossible to avoid its beliefs and values. Furthermore, the phenomenon of marketing; the selling of 'tie-in' products such as toys, clothes and even specially packaged food items to coincide with a film's release, plays right into the hands of consumerism which, in effect, is one of the ways an individual feels a sense of belonging to the wider society or, as Giroux states:

If we imagine the Disney Company as a teaching machine whose power and influence can, in part, be measured by the number of people who come in contact with its goods, messages, values, and ideas, it becomes clear that Disney wields enormous influence on the cultural life of the nation, especially with regard to the cultural life of children. (2001:19)

In reference to Disney being positioned as a teaching aid, Giroux claims that the studio's long-standing commitment to the portrayal of innocence, happiness and imagination in contrast to the realities of contemporary American life, became like a system of educational tools. By standing as the chief signifier for family entertainment and escapism, and with the promise that Disney will fulfil its consumers' hopes and dreams, as encapsulated in its 'When You Wish upon a Star' theme tune, the corporation sought to re-educate audiences, particularly children, in the spheres of consumerism, self-identity, and even nationalism. Shrouded in its cloak of innocence, Disney's dominance of culture, economy, politics and the media means that its underlying strategies of control, consumption and commodification can be filtered into the minds of its billions of users. In addition, as Giroux notes, the magical world of Disney acts as a site of fantasy and distraction for children from the hectic and stressful lives of adults, creating the illusion of a kinship between its young spectators, who are made to feel secure enough to readily receive the teachings of this substitute guardian:

Stripped of the historical and social constructions that give it meaning, innocence in the Disney universe becomes an atemporal, ahistorical, apolitical, and atheoretical space where children share a common bond free of the problems and conflicts of adult society. Disney markets this ideal, presenting itself as a corporate parent who safeguards this protective space for children by supplying the fantasies that nourish it. (2001:31)

Thus, from a young age, audiences are taught to believe in Disney's magic, as it provides a world of safety and unity, far removed from that of its real-life alternative. The innocence that the company endorses effectively becomes truth, largely because it is what individuals want to believe, but also because it is what they are provoked into believing via the processes of marketing, merchandising and advertising, as well as Disney's omnipotent involvement within the wider realms of society and culture.

The fact that two of the first three films of Disney's Renaissance are based on fairy tales is interesting to note in relation to Giroux's comments, and it is these two films; The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989) and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), that provide the foundations for this discussion. For now, a brief initial observation would surmise that Disney's recreation of these 'classic' tales at the beginning of its own reinvention demonstrates the desire to situate itself as the purveyor of fantasy and escapism, and that these particular stories, in their familiarity and resurgence of childhood nostalgia, enhance the connotations of storytelling and, consequently, of the educative passing on of wisdom, advice and valuable life lessons by an elder to a child.

Leading Ladies

The protagonists of both The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast are girls, though as will be discussed later, Disney's filmic adaptation of the latter has made Beauty, or Belle's, role much less significant in comparison to her literary predecessors. Hence, due to Disney's fascination with the heroine, and its repeated portrayal of seemingly strong, charismatic and determined young woman, it is from a feminist perspective that the films will be considered.

At the time that the Renaissance era began, feminism was experiencing great changes in its political and cultural hegemonies, as well as in its perception within society. Whereas the feminist movement of the 1970s was primarily concerned with issues of equality and sexual liberation, later polemics of the 1980s and 90s were more interested in the attitudes of society as a whole towards women and, while still focusing on equality in the home and workplace, shifted attention to the ways that women were publicly presented; specifically by such institutions as politics and the media.

This new wave of feminism, often termed Third Wave or post-feminism, tends to be more celebratory of women's roles in society; their achievements, in terms of academic, employment and politics; and their freedom to express themselves via their appearance, mannerisms and body postures. Women are encouraged to openly display their personalities, even if they do not correspond to society's traditional views on what is considered customary and expected. This allows for a 'modern' breed of on and off screen female character with which to identify and aspire, as Walter argues:

Young women can now explore a range of different ways to behave; aggressive and articulate behaviour is rewarded as well as passive or quiet behaviour. Women now have countless naughty, large and noisy heroines to emulate as well as the good, small and quiet heroines of the last century. (1998:58)

Tasker develops the notion of female emancipation further, claiming that a woman's ability to choose what she wears has the effect of turning her into a powerful consumer. By this, Tasker means that women gain power from wearing clothes that they have chosen and paid for, not only because these items say a lot about their owner's character, but because shopping for them carries with it a sense of autonomy, satisfaction and enjoyment. Additionally, the importance that has been placed on consumerism and physical appearance as sites of pleasure has resulted in women being revered as articles of beauty and perfection which, instead of constituting objectification, enhances female liberation and authority, according to Tasker:

In line with this peculiarly silent visibility, postfeminism also perpetuates woman as pinup, the enduring linchpin of commercial beauty culture. In fact, it has offered new rationales for guilt-free consumerism, substantially reenergizing beauty culture [...]. (2007:3)

In this way, consumerism can be seen as beneficial to women; acting as a form of [retail] therapy, as it provides a means of expressing identity that is, seemingly, related to internal desires and wishes, as opposed to the external viewpoints of society. This concept can then be applied to feminism in a wider context, as contemporary attitudes towards women can, at first glance, appear to have the effect of allowing them to make their own choices, which are generated by individual needs and wants, not by those of society.

However Walter has revisited the key ideas in cultures of feminism, proposing that this alleged trend towards freedom through consumption is falsely justified. While women are now able to buy, wear and [within reason] do what they want, the privileges set out by the beauty industry specifically mean that sexual objectification can be equated to female empowerment. The necessity for women to look beautiful connotes a certain amount of vulnerability and lack; in that perhaps they wish to fulfil this aspect of their lives in order to gain success in other areas, such as business and education, and coincides with the recent acceptability of the sex industry into mainstream culture. As Walter notes, children's dolls, which are often modelled on such cinematic heroines as those featured in Disney films, have become highly sexualised over the past decade, as have their on-screen counterparts; who regularly appear in skimpy clothes, have big hair, and faces covered in make-up, no matter their age. Far from denoting emancipation and equality, the sexualisation of girls, and the suggestion that attractiveness leads to happiness and achievement, actually suggests the opposite.

It appears that, contrary to cultural belief, little has changed in regards to society's attitude towards women since the feminist movement of the 1970s, and that while it may seem women have been granted greater freedom in terms of their private and public spheres, this 'freedom' is in fact a disguise or 'masquerade' (McRobbie, 2009:79), working to conceal the truth; that women are not free to be themselves, because it is still society that sets out the, somewhat antiquated, terms and conditions or, in the words of Walter:

The rise of a hypersexual culture is not proof that we have reached full equality; rather, it has reflected and exaggerated the deeper imbalances of power in our society. Without thoroughgoing economic and political change, what we see when we look around us is not the equality we once sought; it is a stalled revolution. (2010:8-9)

In order to relate this post-feminist critique to the women of Disney's The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, the issues of equality, consumerism, sexualisation and objectification will be looked at in detail. The following three posts will address a specific theme: fairy tales, adaptation and representation, with post-feminism providing a theoretical framework and analytical approach for all three. There will then be a conclusion, to sum it all up nice and concisely. Don't go skipping to that part first though, cheats!

The aim of this disscussion is to evaluate how women are presented in Disney's versions of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast; and whether this is positive, as 'Renaissance' denotes, whether the studio's adaptation of these tales signifies negative attitudes, or whether indeed these aspects co-exist in tension. By looking closely at the fairy tale and theories of adaptation, and relating the findings to a comparison of the literary texts with Disney's renditions, a greater understanding of the films' subtexts will be reached, and the corporation's position on the depiction of women will become clearer, as any alterations made in the move from page to screen should carry significant implications.

Keep 'em peeled for Part II: the one about fairy tales.

KT xxx

Bibliography:

Byrne, E. & McQuillan, M. (1999) Deconstructing Disney, Pluto Press: London

Giroux, H. A. (2001) The Mouse That Roared: Disney and the End of Innocence, Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc:

USA

Le Prince de Beaumont, J. M. (2008) Beauty and the Beast, Forgotten Books.

McRobbie, A. (2009) The Aftermath of Feminism: Gender, Culture and Social Change, SAGE Publications: London.

Propp, V. Morphology of the Folktale (1968) Indiana University Press:

USA

Tasker, Y. & Negra, D. (eds.) (2007) 'Introduction' in: Interrogating Postfeminism: Gender and the Politics of Popular Culture, Duke University Press:

USA

, p.1-27.

Walter, N. (1998) The New Feminism, Little, Brown: London.

Walter, N. (2010) Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism, Virago Press: London.

Spoonie Blues - and PhD muse[ings]

2012-06-23T17:20:00.000+01:00

Majorly shitty month thus far, hence why I haven't posted; it would only be full of rage and misery, which while cathartic, would prove a very boring and depressing read.

I have other plans for today's post but, to cut a long story short, I've been stuck at home for pretty much the whole of the past three weeks, with no access to my own car, while mother has been driving back and forth to my sister's – who's recovering from a very small, totally non-life-threatening operation. Damn, how bitter do I sound? In normal circumstances, of course I wouldn't begrudge anyone receiving help from their mother, particularly when she already does so much for me, as my main carer. However, nothing about my family is 'normal', or simple – whose is, I hear you scream – good point, but when you take into consideration that we moved away from living with my sister because she's a manipulative, immature, abusive and violent bitch, you can kinda see why it might grate on me. I haven't said a lot about this in previous posts, maybe the odd hint, cos it's so difficult to discuss, and I almost feel embarrassed when I do have to talk about my family sitch. Stupid, huh? Anyway, the whole point of this blog was to be honest with my readers, so there you go; [some] honesty. So, because mother's had exclusive use of the car – my car, paid for by me, via Motability – I haven't been able to get out with my enabler, SB. And no, I couldn't have just gone for a 'walk' to town, or round the park with SB, as that would've involved mother getting me into my wheelchair before she left early in the morning, and me staying sat up all day, which I can't physically do (see The Spoon Theory to really make sense of this).

I have, consequently, really struggled to get through this month, and have had some epic rows with mother; brought on by a combination of cabin fever, boredom, frustration, exhaustion – from days of early starts – and a general feeling of loneliness and isolation. If it wasn't for daily heart to hearts with The Wife, visits from VW and @FranBMan23, and getting out to work on two of the days, I don't know how I'd have coped. Still not feeling great at the moment; having some pretty emotional, angry, and stressful bouts, and I have scared myself at times into thinking I'll end up like I was last year/end of 2010. I'm hoping I've come through the worst though; mother isn't up at my sister's quite so much now, and from next week I should have a bit more use of my car. Here's hoping, cos I'm not sure I can handle this way of 'life' for much longer. I'm banking on the testing of a new, specially made sling on Friday that, if successful, would mean – once installed – I could be lifted and moved by my carers, rather than solely mother. As much as I'm worried about it – the thought of anyone, or anything, new lifting me is pretty terrifying, on account of the slightest movement potentially causing a broken bone – I desperately want, no, need, for this to work. Maybe then I'll achieve the independence that so many spoonies, quite rightly, seem to acquire so easily.

Right, on to the actual topic of this post; my PhD. I wanted to put into words what I'm intending to research, as it's all jumbled up in my head at the moment, so it needs some organisation anyway, and what better way to do that than in public. These are all initial, very rough ideas that I've had, based on the findings of my MA dissertation, and before I'd done any proper research. I'm sure the plans will change, but I'm living in the moment, so here goes.

For my MA dissertation in Film, I wrote about issues of girlhood, and the representation of young women in the Disney film; specifically The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989) and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991). I am going to share this work over the next few posts, so bear with me; I don't wanna give away any spoilers at the moment. What I can say is that, as both of the above films were based on fairy tales and folklore, I followed the progression of these two stories, charting the differences between the representations of the little mermaid (Ariel, to those of the Disney generation), and Beauty (Belle). These characters naturally became the main focus, but during my research, and throughout the course of writing up, Ursula (a.k.a. the Sea Witch) kept rearing her [very ugly] head, and proved difficult to ignore.

Ursula brought up some very interesting issues of femininity; of being cast aside once you reach the age of infertility and unattractiveness – according to society, not my belief, honestly. Yet, cos Ariel and Belle took the lead roles, Ursula kind of faded into the background, and didn't get as much recognition as she'd have liked. Indeed, The Legend, who second marked my dissertation, and whose advice I will always follow to the letter, said that she would have been interested to read a lot more about Ursula, and her 'issues'. Hint for a future PhD topic? Methinks so. Thus, the seed was planted, and I'm intending to follow up this idea further, by means of a PhD.

Current working title is 'The Other Woman; Monstrous Femininity and Ageing in the Disney Fairy Tale', and I'm intending to broaden my horizons – and word count – by looking at a much wider range of Disney films, and comparing them to their 'live-action' counterparts. Fairy tales are totally in vogue at the moment, what with Sky's current ad campaign, Channel 5's Once Upon a Time, and the recent release of Snow White and the Huntsman (Sanders, 2012), to name but a few. Moreover, according to HH – who was my very brilliant dissertation supervisor – there's loads of research being carried out on ageing, and it just so happens that the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) – who I'm banking on for funding – are looking for people to research 'New Dynamics of Ageing'. Um, yay. If I ever get to writing a proposal, I will play on this muchly.

By 'Other', I mean the process of 'us' versus 'them'; primarily associated with Said's 1978 book, Orientalism, where the creation of a society:

'[...] whether Orient or Occident, France or Britain… involves establishing opposites and otherness whose actuality is always subject to the continuous interpretation and reinterpretation of their differences from us‘. (1995:332)

My PhD thesis will [hopefully] be on a much smaller scale than continental politics, and the idea of the 'Other' will instead be used twofold. First, as a kind of play on words; not the heroin, the other one, and also Other with a capital O; the women that offer something different, oppose the 'norm', aren't seen as 'us'. This may be cos they aren't beautiful, aren't married, are childless or infertile, etc. Basically, anything that differentiates these women, such as Ursula, Maleficant, The Wicked Stepmother, from what we – us – deem socially acceptable, or traditionally conventional.

By 'Monstrous Femininity', I'm of course referring to the brilliant Barbara Creed's The Monstrous-Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis, which I haven't actually read yet, but I'm sure it's amazing. According to the blurb, The Monstrous Feminine addresses the way that female monstrosity nearly always shares a bed with issues of fertility and mothering – ooo, rhymes with Othering – think the alien in Alien (Scott, 1979). So, like, all the baddies mentioned above don't have biological children, and seem to exist purely to make the younger, hotter, more fertile protagonists' lives a misery. Wait, this is sounding all too close to home... Anyways, I haven't even begun to address the question of why these women are portrayed in this way; though I have touched on it very briefly in my review of Snow White and the Huntsman. Maybe it's jealousy, or bitterness, over all the privileges Third Wavers have over the Firsties, or maybe society – us, again – deem older women as useless, due to their inability to reproduce and, cos they're so unattractive, they must be cast aside, to go live in caves. Again, not my views. Who knows; it's probably a combo of all those factors, plus a bunch more. Only time, and a whole lotta work, will tell. Although, if anyone does have an answer, please share! I'm not so attached to the idea of giving up my life [and sanity] to research this baby, that I wouldn't welcome any input.

Next, cue a big load of post-feminist argument – which I actually love picking apart – about the body beautiful, women doing it for themselves, Third Wave gals versus First Wave old cronies, and I have myself a very basic, yet not bad – even if I do say so myself – idea for a thesis.

That's where I'm at right now. I've done no reading, since researching my MA, and have watched maybe a tenth of the films that I need to. But I'm starting to think about it; progress.

KT xxx

Snow White and the Huntsman: Review

2012-05-31T16:27:00.001+01:00

I promised I would reveal the subject of my [hopefully] future PhD in this post, but went to see Snow White and the Huntsman (Sanders, 2012) yesterday, and thought I oughtta write a wee review, for my sake as much as anyone reading this. SWATH – which is apparently how the cool kids refer to this film – will very likely feature in my PhD thesis, so it made sense to write down my initial thoughts anyway, and package them as a review, for the greater good.

*SPOILERS*

I won't go too heavily into the plot; a) cos that makes for a really boring read, b) I'm starting to forget bits of it already, so probably wouldn't be able to give a very reliable synopsis and c), I kinda missed the first 10 minutes, because I was late, and because Vue obviously started the film bang on time. My bad though; I shouldn't have stopped at Tesco on the way to stock up on contraband. Anyway, from what I can remember, I will say this; It Was Brilliant. I've skimmed through a few reviews since yesterday; the majority of which are pretty negative. The gist being that the film is too big, and too beautiful, and not focused enough on plot, or the relationships between the characters. Now, I don't get to the cinema very often at all, so when I do go, I wonder if I get a bit carried away and overawed by the whole spectacle of it. Going to the cinema is something that I, generally, have to plan well in advance, and is reliant on fitting in with times that my enabler and my car – which also happens to be the 'family' car – are free. Thus, I look forward to going and, sad but true; I get excited. So maybe that excitement somewhat overshadows any film that I go to see, and I'm less critical than I should be; less able to see the flaws.

Personally, I believe SWATH was well acted, particularly by Charleze Theron (Ravenna, aka 'The Queen'), who gave an incredibly dark, and powerful performance, but also by Kristin Stewart – who'da thunk it? – as Snow White herself. You may have noticed the slight surprised tone there; I was pretty sceptical of Stewart playing the lead, as I was really unimpressed with her, frankly, cold and passionless performance in the Twilight films. Admittedly, I haven't read the books yet – they are on my Kindle – and, according to VW, Stewart plays Bella completely right. If that's the case, then I will hold my hands up and admit to my epic mistake, but really, I don't see that happening... In SWATH though, Stewart is much better; much more of an actor. Hoorah. I mean, I still don't think Stewart's a particularly brilliant actor, and she was completely overshadowed by Theron; both in terms of aesthetics and performance; at one point Ravenna is told by 'Mirror' that her powers are failing because one exists that is 'fairer' than she. Really though? Has the director not seen Theron? With his eyes??! She's stunning and, with the exception of the odd scene where she's 'ug-ed up', she is no less hot as this evil biatch. Maybe too hot. But then, this is only in comparison to previous adaptations of this tale, where The Queen was often portrayed as grotesque; becoming monstrous at times, and who's to say that she shouldn't be drop dead? Course, the mirror coul be alluding to Snow's inner beauty, which would make more sense, and her goodness is indeed referred to in several moments in the film. Snow White does seem to possess a certain 'magical' quality, and I'm pretty sure she's called a 'healer' by a dwarf at one point, but this is one of the ideas that is not really explained, or developed any further, leading to the viewer – or maybe it's just me – assuming that the mirror is talking about Snow's looks, versus Ravenna's.

Indeed, Ravenna's beauty is cited as one of her 'powers'; specifically over the male species who, apparently, have screwed her over in the past, so why the hell shouldn't she use her body to get her revenge. Personally, I think this film gives an interesting perspective on femininity, especially when looked at from a post/Third Wave feminist angle, where women are seen to 'do it for themselves'; liberated to achieve power and respect by sheer determination, but equally not afraid or ashamed to use their looks as sites of pleasure and admiration. SWATH also says some interesting things about aging; as Ravenna is prepared to go to any lengths to maintain her youthful looks, even sucking the life force out of pretty young girls – including, ironically, model Lily Cole – who then become withered up, grey and wrinkly shadows of their former selves. Is Ravenna a feminist of the first wave; pissed at all the attention and privileges that this new, younger, hotter breed now have, when it was her lot that did all the hard work in the first place? Quite possibly, thus I think Robinson's notion that Ravenna is a 'generic baddie', who becomes an 'impersonal wall of CGI special effects' is completely unfounded; the woman has depth, demonstrated further by Theron's emotionally unhinged performance. Impersonal my arse.

Stewart displays a decent range of emotions too and, like I say, while I don't think she's the most talented actor going – by far – I did care what happened to Snow, which is a lot more than can be said about how I felt towards Bella. I even shed a tear during the poisoned apple scene, and again in the death chamber. Though, I can't really give Stewart any credit, as she was either dead or dying. Maybe it was down to Sam Clafin (William) and Chris Hemsworth's ('The Huntsman') performances; both crying over Snow White's cold 'dead' body. Maybe. Like I said, SWATH has been criticised for a lack of connection between the characters, and I agree that there is little chemistry between Huntsman and Snow; considering he openly admits to loving her – I failed to spot the development of this 'love'; Huntsman just seems to decide it one day – and nothing whatsoever from William. So, although I was initially disappointed when the film concluded without Snow ending up with either bloke, it was probably quite right; she could do better, and I would've been more annoyed if Sanders had gone with a 'happily ever after'. Traditional yes, and more loyal to the tale's origins, but really people, this is the 21st century; no one lives happily ever after.

In terms of the other characters, no one else gave a particularly memorable performance, except Sam Spruell as Finn, Ravenna's pervy brother. Spruell's character was fairly unnecessary; only functioning as Ravenna's dogsbody, but he didn't really bring much to the film, other than a very bad haircut and a sexually threatening undertone that didn't develop. Nor did his obviously psychical/physical connection to Ravenna; at one point he is seen to 'die', yet reappears not 10 minutes later, perfectly all right. Only later, when Finn actually dies, do we see its effect on his sister, who is miles away from him, and who he begs to save him. Ravenna, selfishly, chooses not to use up the last of her powers to help her bro, yet is visibly gutted that she can't; hence Robinson's 'impersonal' is even more baffling.

The dwarves too, seemed rather pointless, and kinda included for the sake of it. OK, so their presence would have been missed had they not featured, and I'm sure Sanders would've been slated too but, other than providing some [limited] light-hearted respite, they didn't actually do much. I expected more, considering they were played by such talents as Bob Hoskins, Nick Frost, Ray Winstone, and Toby Jones, but a lot of the time they were just annoying. For instance, Bob Hoskin's dwarf is obviously blind in one eye, yet can 'see'; telling everyone that Snow White is 'the one', but nothing is made of this. Perhaps the director is trying to give the audience some credit; not spelling everything out for them, and letting them come to their own conclusions. However, the more likely explanation is that SWATH has a lot of ideas – not all of them good – but doesn't develop them into anything meaningful, which is where this film fails.

KT xxx

PhD; Pretty huge Deal

2012-05-24T14:47:00.000+01:00

For the past few weeks, I've been desperately – and I mean desperately – researching possible sources of funding for my future PhD, to no avail. Yup, I've come up with a big fat zilch. Now, I don't wanna mislead anyone, or put anyone off wanting to study further; I'm just going from my, admittedly limited, research.

There's the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC), and the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC), which are the big guys in terms of funding. I was already very aware of the former, as the AHRC offers the University's Humanities department the very generous total of two or three PhD bursaries per year. Fine. Great. It's only just recently hit me though, that there's a very good chance I won't get the AHRC; then what? I mean, I'm using this year to research my thesis topic, and do all the legwork, before writing a [hopefully] well-planned, and well-constructed proposal, which is what the AHRC money rests on. But there's the competition; people from across the country will be applying for places too, many of them a lot brighter than me, I'm sure. So it's definitely not a done deal.

I do have some advantages; I've already been a student at this campus, so know the staff well, and have their support. HH and The Legend have provided me with loads of guidance in terms of research, and how to organise myself, and have given a very strong impression that they'll help me through the proposal-writing process. They've been brilliant actually, and have totally made me believe that I can do this thang. Providing I get funding.

I'm working in a Film museum, cataloguing the Disney archive. Considering my thesis topic is going to be set in the world of Disney – more on that in my next post – I couldn't really be in a better place, as I'm surrounded by magazines containing film reviews, interviews with animators, promotional material and so on. Boss has basically given me free rein, saying that if there is anything I want to look at while I'm there, all I need do is ask. A vast collection of archived secondary research at my fingertips; check.

I have a year to prepare – well, eight months now – but it's a lot longer, and more relaxed, than coming straight out of a Masters, which is the case for a lot of students. In a way, I kind of wish I had gone straight on, without taking this year out, just to get it over and done with; I'd be nearly at the end of my first year by now. Then I remember what a mess I was in the last year, how stressful I found studying the MA and writing a dissertation, without the added pressure of writing a 3000-word proposal. I did need this break, to clear my head; I know it sounds totally lame, and lazy, but it's been great not having to think about anything remotely academic for a few months. It's what I needed. Though, it's amazing how quickly you can forget how to write properly, and this blog, along with proof-reading my niece's undergraduate essays, has really helped to keep my slightly furry brain ticking over.

So, yes, in theory, I'm in a really good position, and am lucky to have a lot of extra support, resources and advice on tap. I'm just concerned that I'm going through all this effort, doing all this work – not that I've done much yet, but I will – and getting myself worked up – yup, it has begun – only to be disappointed next year if I don't get funding. I'm not one of these overly optimistic types that gets their hopes up, only to be constantly disappointed; I'm a spoonie after all, I'm used to being let down.

I do really wanna do this, and sooner is obviously much better than later; if I get on the course next year, I won't graduate till I'm 30, and that's if I go full-time. Both HH and The Legend have, quite strongly, suggested I go part time, at least to start with, as I guess they can [vividly] remember what a nightmare I was last year. They're probably right, and I can't describe how amazing it feels to hear how much they care, but that means I won't graduate until I'm at least 33… Looking at it written down like that, it doesn't seem like much difference, but it is really and, apart from anything else, my parents – both in their 70s – aren't getting any younger, and three years might make quite a big difference to them. I want them to see me graduate, after all.

On the other hand, I'm doing a PhD for me, not for anyone else, thus I should only be running to my timeline of needs. Even then, getting it finished in three years has its advantages too; I'll be much more employable by the age of 30, and might end up with a career lecturing or researching for the next 20 or 30 years.

I'm less likely to be affected by a change in support staff, whether that be supervisors, note-takers, or personal carers at home, in three years than I am in six. Course, people may leave due to illness, babies, new jobs etc during my three years of studying, but it's likely I'll experience less upheaval in a shorter space of time, which is something I need to think about. I do get too attached to people, I know that, and I gotta stop doing it. The Wife's called me on it before, and she is right; she's always right but, in my defence, when you need to trust someone to look after your most basic needs, and have to share your [sometimes quite personal] history with that person, you can't help but become attached. Well, I can't, and I've really gotta stop it. It's not really just the attachment issue, though that's a big part of it, it's having to explain my needs to someone new, over and over again. To be honest, I'm getting used to it, now I have carers in at home, so maybe this isn't such a big deal. I would be disappointed though if, for instance, I got halfway through a PhD and my supervisor – most likely to be HH or The Legend, due to my topic – left, because they know me and my 'issues', I trust them, and I can talk to them.

Anyway, the whole part-time/full-time debate is something that's going to be ongoing for a while, and may not be resolved till I start the course, if then. That is the least of my worries, really – so why the hell am I fretting about it now??! – and my main problem is funding.

As I said, there's the AHRC, which covers PhDs and research projects in humanities, which Film falls into. The ESRC covers economic, business and social projects, so I wouldn't qualify for one of their grants, but a lot of their areas of research coincide with those of the AHRC, thus it's good to at least be aware of them. Failing these guys, there really is very little else in terms of funding opportunities for PhD, and nothing out there specifically for spoonies wanting to go down this path. I'm sure there are thousands of institutions and organisations that would offer bursaries for particular research projects, but these are usually offered to one person at a time and, in my experience, are largely in the fields of medicine, science, business and sociology.

I have looked up so many charities over the past two years – I tried to get funding for my MA – that I've lost count of how many 'no's' I've received. I'm not saying that because I'm disabled I should automatically get funding, but it all just seems to stop at PhD level, for everyone, not just spoonies. The Prince's Trust, for example, which is all for helping young people get into education, won't fund university course fees, at any level, which, to me, seems a tad fucked. I even wrote to Disney, to ask whether they had any funding schemes or initiatives, only to be directed to a page on their site that stated that they are not "able to support personal appeals on behalf of individual people, including scholarships, challenges or overseas volunteering". So that was that.

I know that no charity is going to give me the whole £14.400 – it's gone up, great – to cover the course fees, but no one seems to be interested in offering me anything, which is pretty depressing really. I mean, as a spoonie, I have no delusions of grandeur, and completely understand that I'm much less employable than an able-bodied person, and undoubtedly more expensive, due to sick pay, extra equipment, and the need for a personal assistant. I also know that I could probably only work part-time, and may find it difficult to travel on occasions, because of ill-health, or issues with care. I get all that. But what I don't understand is that I, along with many other spoonies out there, am trying to make myself more employable, and more valuable "to society", by furthering my education to this level, while in turn researching something that may prove useful to others, yet there doesn't seem to be any financial support or imperative to do so. Considering one of the main issues at the moment is unemployability, you'd think the government, or someone, would say:

'Hey, well done for wanting to achieve and better yourself, when life is pretty tough for you, and ultimately give back to a society that hasn't done a whole lot for you, here's £500'

Is it me? Am I wrong; is there anything out there that I don't know about? If so, please, please let me know, because anything would be a bonus.

KT xxx

Identity Crisis

2012-04-17T12:21:00.001+01:00

Having a bit of a crisis of conscience at the moment, after some really weird - and pretty darn creepy - comments. Basically, I've been thinking about how a lot of people use the Internet to hide behind, like these so called 'trolls' that abuse others on twitter, because they feel they have the right to say anything, and it won't get traced back to them. The whole point of my blog was to be as honest with my readers as possible, yet, I don't use my real name… And therein lies the problem.

When I first started writing, I figured it would be much easier to be myself if I wasn't myself; i.e. I used a false name. That way, I felt I could be honest about my life, without worrying about having any fallback, or offending anyone I know – not that I would deliberately. It's like, when you have counselling; it's much easier to talk to someone who's not part of your life, who won't judge you, because they don't know you. That's what this blog is to me, kinda like my therapy. I've already explained at great length why I chose the pseudonym of 'Bad Wolf', and I still stand by what I said back then. I like the anonymity, and I like being able to keep this identity separate from the persona I portray in the real world. Otherwise, I am 100% honest in what I write here, and my twitter account – also under 'The Bad Wolf' - is an extension of that.

Yesterday, I got it into my head to screw what anyone else thinks of me, and connect all my accounts. So I went about connecting my twitter back to my Facebook, and allowing NetworkedBlogs to post on my Wall/Timeline. But then I thought about it a bit more, and talked to The Wife, and today I've gone back and reversed all those decisions; except one, which I'll reveal in a minute. Maybe I'm a coward, and shouldn't be bothered about what anyone thinks of what I write, but I am – bothered, I mean. It's like I said in 'I'm Fine'; there are certain people I can be honest with, and tell how I'm really feeling, but for the other 99%, I give the default 'I'm fine', and it's those that I don't feel comfortable in letting read my blog. Stupid, right? My blog is public, for the whole world to read, yet I don't want [certain] people I know reading it. I think, if I always had that worry at the back of my mind, that friends and family may be reading this, then it would hinder my honesty, and ruin the whole point.

It also helps that, after a lot of thought, I've kind of pinned down what I want out of this blog, which maybe I hadn't really thought about before. I want it to be a platform for me to express how I'm feeling, how I'm coping with my day-to-day life as a spoonie, and any worries or changes that may occur, and I hope that, in turn, I'm providing a bit of support or insight to those of you reading this. I find it really difficult to talk to people, apart from a select handful, so this blog has proved useful to me, on a selfish level, for understanding myself, and working a few things out. I welcome comments, and criticism, and would love to hear from other spoonies, or friends/family of spoonies, just to know someone is on the same wavelength would be brilliant. On that note, in future posts I'm going to try even harder to talk about my life as a spoonie, and how my condition - Brittle Bone Disease - affects me, in the hope that anyone else with a similar condition, or spoonies in general, will at least feel that they're not alone. I'm also going to make sure to write more about film too; it's not all about me, and I need to make the effort to write something a bit academic, after four years of studying the subject.

But, while I want to remain anonymous, I feel that I should give you all a bit of myself, a smidgen of my true identity, in order to keep that balance between the completely honest 'Bad Wolf,' yet be an identifiable and empathetic personality. So, from now on, call me Katie.

KT xxx

Trapped

2012-04-10T11:53:00.000+01:00

Bank holidays suck, don't they? I find them so boring, and there's never anything to watch on TV either. It wasn't helped this weekend just gone that mother went out for the day on both Saturday and Monday, leaving me [with father] to amuse myself. Not easy.

I don't begrudge her going out at all; she definitely needs some space away from me, and vice versa. But I do find it difficult when I'm effectively confined to my room for practically a whole weekend. As mother is still my main carer, and the only one able to move me, if she goes out first thing in the morning I have to stay in bed till she comes back; otherwise if I got into my chair I'd be there for hours, which I couldn't do. In an ideal world, I'd have a hoist set up, so that other carers could come in and help me out but this is yet to be the case.

I know I shouldn't complain cos, compared to some, I have it relatively easy. I mean, I'm not in constant pain, I have the support of my parents, particularly my mother, who does everything for me, including driving around the countryside, and I have a lot of friends. Maybe I'm just a bit narky because I couldn't do what I wanted to do at al this weekend; it wasn't about me. Not that I had any plans, but the fact I couldn't make any even if I wanted to was quite a depressing (?) thought. I think it's just times like this remind me how limited I am, and how dependent I am on other people. I can't go anywhere without okay-ing it with my mother, who I might be relying on to drive me, or SB, my enabler, who may well have plans of her own. Even if I can go out with SB, I can only do that at a time that's convenient with my parents, as we only have one car. My car.

I guess I feel trapped by my disability; not a new sensation, but one that I try to forget about, and get over as much as I can. I've talked about freedom on here before, or lack of it, and it really is, for me anyway, the worst thing about being a spoonie. I don't really mind being disabled from any other perspective, it's never bothered me that I can't walk, ride a bike etc etc, though I'd much rather not have Brittle Bone Disease. But it is not really stop me doing anything major, like getting an education, having good friends and so on. I suppose maybe I'm being a bit glass half full, as I know I'm going to find it difficult to find a job, and the whole relationship thing is a total nonstarter. What I'm trying to say is, I never, ever, think 'I wish I wasn't disabled'. Ever. Maybe when I was younger; as a child watching everyone running around in the park, or fixing up sleepovers, yeah, but not now. Suppose eventually you get used to not having certain things, not being able to do certain activities, and there's no point missing something you've never had. Right?

No, the only thing that bothers me about being a spoonie is not having that freedom to say.' I'm going out, not sure when I'll be back'. Such a simple statement for the majority of non-spoonies, one that most people don't even think about. I do. A lot. I can never make plans on the spur of the moment; ring a friend in the evening and arrange to meet the following day for a shopping trip, pop out to the town, go for a walk on my own around the park. Dead simple things like that are what makes it difficult to be a spoonie, and when I’m left 'on my own’ it serves as a reminder - like I need it - of what I can't do. As I said, and as is obvious, there are many things I can't do, but I don't dwell on these, and I don't [think] I feel sorry for myself either. Similarly, nothing's gonna change either; it's impossible. Even when I have 24-hour care from people I pay, and have a car to myself, I'm still never gonna be able to do my own thing, or go out without making really tight, military plans.

Am I OK with that? No, not really, but there's nothing I can do about it, so stop moaning. I've just gotta focus on the things I can do and, for one thing, I thank my lucky stars every day that I'm at least of 'sound' mind… Well, kind of. I really don't know what I'd do if I couldn't hold a conversation, couldn't read or study. Then maybe I'd have something to moan about, which I didn't intend to do today. Obviously I don't have enough on my mind at the moment; need to start researching that PhD. I shall endeavour to not complain at all in my next post.

BW xxx

Source Unknown

2012-03-26T16:10:00.002+01:00

I feel really sick. Sorry, that's not the topic of today; I don't know what the topic of today actually is, but it's not that. I just thought I'd state a [pretty boring and pointless, yet honest] fact, particularly if this post ends being short because of it. Although, this post may well be very succinct anyway, on account of the fact I don't feel I have anything much to say… Figured I should write something, as it's been ages, and I don't want to get lazy, but then I don't believe in blogging for the sake of it either. So I'll try to make this slightly interesting, for all our sakes.

I haven't achieved very much since my last post; I've spent most of my free time proof-reading my niece's BA dissertation, which has taken a fair few hours, though it was only 10,000 words. Other than T, no one has ever asked me to proof read an essay before, and it's really hard. I mean, I was taught the 'rules' of 'good' essay writing, as I'm sure a lot of people are, but it doesn't mean that these rules tally, or apply to all forms of academic writing. Like, when I was at secondary school, the same one that T attended, I was never told not to write in the first person; arguably the most basic rule going, right? I was sent off to Uni, to do a course on Journalism, ffs, with no idea how to write a decent essay. Yet, once I went into FE, after The Event, such rules were drummed into us, thank god and, I think [hope], my writing dramatically improved. Course, just being at Uni, and having to write endless essays really does wonders for your skills, but I find it really interesting to see how differently students are taught the basics, if at all. I mean, I was taught referencing until I could repeat the lessons in my sleep, yet the majority of my fellow university students had no idea what to do, which I believe is still the case for many new undergrads.

I'm not saying I'm brilliantly clever, cos I'm definitely not, or that I've had the best education going, or that my way of writing is the right way, as I believe no matter how good you think you are, you can still learn from others, and improve yourself. I'm just saying that there doesn't seem to be one umbrella system of rules for good academic writing, and it's really difficult when you move from one institution to another, or compare work from a variety of sources, to really know where you stand. I hope the advice I gave T was helpful and, most importantly, correct, as I know how emotionally attached you can become to longer pieces of writing, and thus how difficult it can be to let others read, and potentially criticise, the work that you've put your heart and soul into. It is a big responsibility to proof read for somebody; I don't think I really appreciated that until now, better go and thank Gloria again then! My input was gratefully received by T though, and she did all the hard work, I merely edited, and added a few comments here and there.

It was quite a privilege actually, that she trusted my judgement enough to let me help, but now I'm done – she's handing in today – I really should knuckle down and do some proper work for myself. I'm supposed to be researching for my PhD, and really trying to pin down my corpus – what the hell I'm writing about – before putting together a proposal. If I don't get the proposal bang on, then I won't stand any chance of getting a scholarship, and consequently won't be doing a PhD any time soon, so no pressure, and no half-hearted attempts. I have to focus, grrrr – that's me being determined and driven, by the way.

Other than proof-reading, I haven't done a lot. I've been out a bit with SB, my enabler, though that hasn't been completely smooth, as she cancelled on me last week, due to a bad back. I don't begrudge anyone time off because of illness, and everyone deserves a holiday too, naturally, but SB has cancelled on me a fair few times since becoming my enabler, and it is more than a little concerning. Before VW left, she promised to show SB the ropes, and give her a few practice runs on how to get me in and out the car safely and securely, yet SB postponed this arrangement a good four or five times before we got together. It was in the back of my mind then, whether SB was taking this new role seriously as, although she's a carer anyway, maybe this job wouldn't be as important as her 'main' career. I let it pass as, admittedly, I was desperate to make sure I wasn't left without an enabler, and the fact that I'd been 'allowed' two more hours a week, plus the increased flexibility meant that this was really too good an opportunity to miss. Besides, when SB did begin her 'training' she was very competent and confident, and I already knew and got on well with her, so it made sense to carry on, rather than beginning the seemingly endless task of tracking down somebody else, who probably wouldn't be as flexible – because they wouldn't live right round the corner, or be free from 11 every weekday morning etc. It seemed ideal to hire SB and, without sounding totally hard done by, it's not often that things seem to just work out like that for me; they generally take months, maybe even years of planning, and it's a stressful, exhausting nightmare. So when things look doable, I try and go for them then and there, before the offer ends, so to speak.

It has worked out well, to some extent. When we have been out, it's been really relaxed; we've organised everything between ourselves, and have had no real worries about when I must get home again; long as it fits in with SB's life, of course. But, like I say, she has cancelled on me, a fair few times, if you include the initial false starts I mentioned earlier. It does annoy me, though the times that she has let me down have never been that critical, as I've not had any real plans. I'm waiting for that one. I just assumed she was reliable – is anyone though, really? – and would take this job as seriously as her role as a carer. Maybe she does really value this job, and I've asked her if she's still up for it, which she says she is, so perhaps it's just teething problems, or genuinely bad luck.

I am gonna give her the benefit of the doubt, and see what happens; if she lets me down again, particularly if I've made important plans, then I'll definitely have to think differently. The Wife'll probably kill me, because she told me to complain about SB's absences, but I really don't wanna lose this service. It is just a service; I'm not attached to SB, like I was VW, so it's not the fact of losing her as a person that's the problem. It's the fact that my family and I receive very little support as it is, which is entirely our own fault because we've always 'managed' on our own, without asking for help until recently. Now, while I have a small amount of home care, almost as a supplement to mother – I'd genuinely accept more help, but my mother feels that, while she's here, and relatively able she should do the majority – I still have to kick and scream to get anything else. My OT is worse than useless, and I've been waiting nearly three years for her to set me up with a hoist so that my carers are able to move me without my mother's assistance, only then can I really begin to think about 24 hour care. It isn't fair that it should be this damn hard, and I'm getting upset now, so should probably take that as my cue to go, cos I refuse to feel sorry for myself. That won't get me anywhere, whereas complaining and screaming blue murder might, so I'm going try the latter tactic, methinks. Though, why should I have to?? Argh, going.

BW xxx

Round-Up

2012-03-10T14:36:00.003+00:00

Crazy, mad-busy week this week, so today's post is a summary of all that's happened; dead exciting stuff too, you'll be hooked.

Monday

Did bugger all. I figured I needed to conserve my spoons for the week ahead, that, and I popped a rib sneezing, which didn't rate too high on the pain scale, but I spent the day in bed anyway.

Tuesday

Worked at the museum, as per, but stayed on an extra hour as I knew I'd be meeting The Legend for a PhD-related chat, and I'd missed a couple days' work last month due to illness/malfunctioning chair, so didn't wanna take the piss. Not that I get paid, but I'm nice like that I guess. Felt that extra hour too, but hardly slept that night cos my rib was killing me – The Wife will tell me off after reading this; she told me not to go in if I was hurting. I wasn't till I got home, honest!

It was worth it though, seeing The Legend, as I knew it would be. She loved my proposed PhD topic – well, she would; it was her comments on my MA dissertation that 'inspired' me! Not gonna go into too much detail about my subject yet, in case somebody happens to nick it before I get there. It's hardly finalised either, and needs a lot of polishing. Let's just say, that I'm thinking older women in Disney films, which is pretty much as fair as I've got, too be honest!

Yeah, so The Legend approved – always a bonus – and gave me some research tips, which I'm gonna make every effort to follow up; if I do this, I'm doing it properly. She has actually got me quite excited and determined about it; I knew if anyone would, it'd be her. On the other hand, I'd already made up my mind that, if I'd come away from that meeting still feeling terrified – not that I'm not a bit terrified – and unsure, then I wasn't ready for a PhD yet. Guess maybe I am, I think. Like I say, it still scares me to death, and I said as much to The Legend, who replied with 'it is hard' – duhhh – but she thought I could do it. She also said 'we' a lot, like 'we'll plan a proposal' – in the summer, when I'm to go back and see her – or 'we'll have great fun researching this'. I thought this was sweet, and hope I'm not deluding myself by thinking that The Legend is really gonna see me through, and be dead supportive. Not that I ever doubted that, but it was lovely to hear – assuming I'm right – and has made me look forward to this next, mahoosive, step. I'd probably end up with The Legend, or HH, or both, as my supervisor(s), cos of my topic, so I know I'd be well looked after, and should get a lot out of the experience. There's the prospect of me teaching while studying too, starting by shadowing a lecturer, then gradually doing a bit myself. Love the idea of this; how it'll work in practise I'm not sure, depending on the practicalities, and whether students will even take to me – quite a major concern for some spoonies, I imagine. Still, it's a challenge, and I'm not one to be overly concerned about what other people think, so bring it on. In 19 months. I'm not that ready.

Another thing that warmed me to The Legend was that she asked not only how I was, but how things were going at home with carers, and the hoisting/lifting saga – which I know I haven't discussed in great detail here. I will, but it'll be a ranty one, and I need to build up to it. Anyway, aside from The Wife, Gloria and VW, none of my friends ever ask me about this stuff; how I'm really getting on, and it makes me love the people that do even more, cos they care, else they wouldn't ask. Course, as I'm not half as close to The Legend as the above three, I gave her a slightly watered down version of events; a bit 'I'm fine' but with greater honesty, and she was very understanding, and annoyed for me – again, I will explain at a later date.

All in all, Tuesday was good, but I used a lot of spoons.

Oh, I met one of the main 'donors' to the museum too. He was the 'partner' – in quotes as I'm not sure what kind of partner, and don't like to ask – of the [now deceased] founder, and still sends a loada film-related stuff through from time to time. Very sweet chap, thanking me for all my 'hard work', bless.

Wednesday

Went with new enabler – referred to as SB from this point on, reckon she's passed the trial period – to see War Horse at the cinema. Awesome, tragic film, though I didn't cry, surprisingly, thought I'd be a wreck. I think, probably, had I been at home, in the comfort of my bed, I would've bawled. Gok Wan had me going a couple weeks ago; I will cry at anything, but don't cry in public. It's not that I won't, cos I was quite prepared to on Wednesday, and wouldn't have minded a good ol' cathartic weep, but I just don't. Much.

I'm really hoping to be able to go to the cinema way more often, now I've got SB; I went once in 2011, and I am a Film grad. Sorry, Post-grad *grins*. Apart from anything else, it's great to do something normal – for non-spoonies – that I don't often get the opportunity to do. Mother moaned at me for making SB drive me to Tesco first, to get supplies – yup, I smuggled in; so sue me – cos of the effort of getting me in and out the car. SB was ok about it, I'd checked with her numerous times while we were making the arrangements, and we've got it down to a fine art now, pretty swiftly too. No problems. To be honest, and I've noticed this when I've gone out with VW, mother seems to get dead touchy – shitty – with me before I go out. It's probably just a slightly heightened way of nagging me; maybe she's nervous about me going out without her. I can't help thinking though, and this is gonna sound awful, but maybe she's jealous that I'm choosing to do these fun, normal things with someone else… I expect I'm totally wrong, and I'm sure she understands that I need people like VW and SB to keep me bloody sane! Almost sane.

I'd had to get up early – earlier than normal – as mum went to my sisters', and going out used a lot of spoons, as I was sitting for a good six hours – following Tuesday's longer stint, and little sleep, so I was pretty knackered Wednesday night.

Thursday

Had my haircut, no biggie… Yeah, actually I hate getting my hair cut, and I always felt like a bit of a twat, as I know a lot of people find it very relaxing and enjoyable. However, after reading Christin Miserandino's Spoon Theory, I can imagine this task could be difficult for other spoonies, and had a tweet from someone this week to confirm this.

Following my spinal fusion op at the age of six, I can't sit upright unaided, or hold my own head up. So, when it comes to the hairdessers', I need someone – mother – to do it for me. Leaning forward, even for a matter of a few minutes, kills my back and neck; probably cos the muscles don't get used much. It takes less than 20 minutes to have my hair cut, but I'm left aching and exhausted afterwards and, coupled with Tuesday and Wednesday's exploits, I was running very low on spoons by this point.

Friday

Another early start, so no chance of earning a few spoons back with a lie in. I did spend most of the day horizontal; either in bed, or on my sister's settee when I was there in the afternoon, but I was already so tired that any effort was spoon-consuming.

Saturday

Today. Currently lying in bed while dictating/typing this, so conserving some spoons, though I did go out briefly with the parentals this morning. I'm likely gonna be able to spend the next couple days resting up, which ordinarily would fill me with dread of the threat of boredom, but I think I'm going to need that time, cos I am tired. I must be getting old, as I obviously somehow managed a five-day week at college, back in the day. I dunno, maybe now that I understand the Spoon Theory, I'm aware of how I feel?

It doesn't help that I woke myself up unnecessarily early [again] this morning, after a really emotional dream about Gloria; mother had upset her somehow, and she wrote me a letter saying basically, as much as she loved me, she couldn't work with me anymore. It's all a bit blurry, though I do remember crying a lot, but that was the gist. It still gets me a bit now actually, thinking about it, and I'm just going to ring Gloria for a chat; though I won't be telling her about the dream. She'll think I'm bonkers, which I probably am, though I think it smacks of needy if I'm honest. I'd die if I lost Gloria's friendship over a row, not to mention VW or, god forbid, The Wife. I think it says a lot that I was more upset about this dream than I was over losing K's 'friendship' last week. But I digress, going now!

BW xxx

Make Friends, Make Friends, Never Never Break Friends...

2012-03-01T13:51:00.000+00:00

… Unless you're a spoonie, that is.

I've been reminded this week how difficult it can be for us spoonies to maintain friendships, particularly with non-spoonies. It's no coincidence that my closest friend happens to be a spoonie too; though that's not why I love her, as disability/illness doesn't define you as a person. No, I love The Wife cos, among many reasons, she understands my limitations and difficulties, mainly because she shares a lot of them. She would understand that, for example, while going to Tesco with my new enabler may not be mind-blowingly exciting, it's a big deal for me, a) because of the whole trusting someone else to look after me thing, and b) because it's me going out by 'myself'. A non-spoonie friend, might give me an 'Ohhh, that's nice', and may even feel a bit sorry for me that such events are often the highlight of my week.

No disrespect to my non-spoonie friends at all, and I know I'm really lucky to have the amount of friends I do, some of them being pretty close. However, because I'm a spoonie, and have to rely on other people to take me out, physically seeing my friends can be a real nightmare to organise and if they live more than around an hour away, the likelihood is that I will never get to catch up with them. Thus, I do a lot of my friendship maintenance via Facebook, and by text and e-mail, which I know is not the same, but it's often the best I can do. When I do get to see friends – my 25^th last August was the most recent 'reunion' – it's all the more meaningful though, consequently, I'm usually pretty bummed out when I get back home, knowing that it'll probably be another year till I see them again. Fortunately I do have some local friends, but meeting them is a challenge too, as they work/study/have children, and their free time is often no good for me. Most of my friends at least understand that it's difficult for me to get to them, and are very accommodating, either coming to meet me, or simply by being patient; letting me make the arrangements of where and when. Course, then I feel guilty that I'm putting people out, taking up their time when they could be doing something else. But spoonies have to learn to live with that guilt – the 'I'm such a burden' phenomena – and get over it, otherwise we'd never get anywhere in life. I think I'm a good judge of character too, and seem to have chosen some very patient, reliable, understanding and brilliant friends… Or so I thought.

The reminder that I mentioned above came via 'friend' of almost 15 years, K, after a total misunderstanding; Facebook doesn't always help to maintain friendships. It's a long story, and I'm not gonna use this blog to vent but, in summary, I was basically told that I'm a crap friend, who doesn't communicate, doesn't listen and, most interestingly, doesn't know what loneliness is. Ha, where do I start? I do feel guilty – there's that word again – that the best I can offer my friends is what amounts to a virtual, or 'cyber' relationship and, for some, that's evidently not enough. Moreover, I know that dipping in and out of friends' Wall posts is hardly conducive to a close friendship, thus I miss out on a lot of what's going on in their lives, but I was so angry – not venting, so not venting – that she called me on this. I do my best, and after 15 years, you'd think K would know that.

The loneliness thing really got to me, and was thrown back at me after I – I'm ashamed to say – used the 'disability card', with 'try being disabled'. I hate using my disability to get a point across, or get things done though, as Gloria says, sometimes you just have to. I didn't use it in this scenario to get sympathy, but I was so annoyed at K banging on about how stressed she was, how ill she'd been, how she couldn't afford to go anywhere, that I snapped. I'm not saying that people around me can't ever say they're unwell, or unhappy, but when 90% of their life is spent being 'normal' and healthy, it annoys me a tadge when certain people make such a fuss about being ill for a bit. God, I wish my reasoning for not being able to go out was down to money – not that I'm well-off, but you get my gist.

Loneliness is a very subjective thing, I get that. The loneliest of people might have dozens of friends, but maybe can't connect to them, for whatever reason. While some people just have one or two really close friends, yet feel completely happy, and loved. I'm – awkwardly – somewhere in the middle. I've got lots of friends, but I can only properly talk to less than a handful of them and, while this select few stop me feeling totally isolated, I still get lonely in the sense that I miss out on the day-to-day minutiae of friendship.

OK, so maybe I have vented a bit today; apologies! Not really sure of the moral of this tale, maybe don't have an argument over Facebook? Seriously though, to all the non-spoonies out there, absolutely feel free to indulge in a bit of self-pity when things aren't going well, but just remember your audience, cos for the majority of spoonies, life is like a permanent bad day. To all the spoonies reading this, just do your best, and if friends aren't being supportive or patient, then they probably don't deserve the title of 'friend'. That, and if it makes you feel any better, at least we've got each other; spoonies united… God help the universe.

BW xxx

Short and Mad

2012-02-19T11:59:00.000+00:00

I was intending to write about something else, way more specific, this week, but I can't seem to settle my mind on anything at the moment. Hence, this rather short post, full of mad ramblings.

VW had her baby on Friday night; I found out yesterday evening. I wasn't half as emotional as I thought I'd be, even when I spoke to her, but I am more excited, and proud, than I've ever been for a friend before*. Probably because I've never been there during any other friends' pregnancies; watching it all develop, and talking about the gory details. I've actually felt part of this; in a totally healthy, knowing-where-the-boundaries-are, kinda way, and hope that I can watch little Charlie boy grow up; which again, I've missed out on with friends. I'm not as broody as I thought I'd be either, hurrah! I think I've got over all that and, while I still think having a baby must be incredible, I'm not as hung up about me having a baby. Aside from @sarahwithstars, who knows how much she means to me, VW has become one of my closest friends, and I guess it could seem that I'm living the baby thing vicariously though her. Maybe I am. I think I've come to realise, with a little help, that there are other things in life, besides s.e.x., and children and, as a spoonie, I've got to focus on the things I can do, rather than those I can't/might not. Also, I think mother might have twigged how I've been feeling, though I thought I'd hidden it pretty well, cos yesterday she was talking about the practicalities of how I could hold Charlie. I dunno, it's just the way she said it, like she felt a bit sorry for me, and that at least VW might let me 'borrow' her baby for a bit. Borrowing is fine by me now though, I need my sleep!

Dad had the 'your mother and I aren't going to be around forever' talk to me yesterday, in regards to what I was doing about a PhD. Dad isn't one for serious convos; in fact, he isn't one for any type of convo, due to a brain injury he suffered years ago, followed by hydrocephalus, which totally affected his social interaction skills. So when he does try to talk to me seriously, I do make the effort to properly listen, even when I don't agree. He said he wanted to see me doing something I enjoyed, and that I'm interested in, beyond the four walls of our, rather bijoux, bungalow, and that a PhD would mean me getting a job in a place I'm already happy and confident in., i.e. the University.

Now, I dunno whether my parents are a bit naïve, or just very optimistic, cos obviously a PhD does not guarantee a job. It's definitely a step towards becoming a lecturer, which I'd love to do, or a researcher, which I could do – though this strikes me as a pretty lonely career; surely one of the main aspects of spoonies achieving employment is the social side? – But it's not a guarantee. Yes, a PhD would give me something to do for the next three years, and would hopefully lead on to something, but I can't justify putting myself through all that as a cure for boredom, and if nothing came of it in the end, I'd be gutted. That realisation has just hit me as I typed it; not that I might not get anything after a PhD – I'm not stupid, I know the score – but how I'd feel about that. Not great, judging by how I'm feeling right now, simply imagining it!

On the other hand, I've always quite liked the idea of teaching – I am from a family of teachers, though I'm adopted… Nurture 1: Nature 0 – and I think I'd be best suited at the further education level; where students are a bit more… accepting. Teaching is one of the few careers that I can see really fitting around my disability, though I would still need some support. So why the hell don't I just get on with it?! I'm nearly 26, and I've never had a 'proper' job. I could totally do this. I think… I even wrote down a title that I'd quite like to use yesterday, with three bullet points, and it wasn't all that scary! Other people believe that I can do it too, which is very flattering, but a lot of added pressure not to fail, and are waiting for me to come knock on their doors for a chat. Maybe I will; have that chat I mean! It can't hurt to talk this all through to someone who can tell me all the gory details. Talking to Bill was really helpful the other week, and I thought that I'd be even more honest with HH – my amazing MA supervisor – or The Legend, who were both aware how tough I found things last year. I might just do that; even to just put all these crazy, mixed up thoughts, into some kind of order.

BW xxx

* I mean proud in relation to a friend reproducing here. This is not the most proud I've ever been of a friend; that accolade goes to The Wife, particularly referring to the well-deserved news she gave me last night but, in general, that girl just makes me bloody proud! Thank god I've had her to discuss all the above with too, cos trust me, my blog posts would be even more garbled without her.

I'm 'Fine'

2012-02-09T14:38:00.000+00:00

I really wasn't sure what to write about for this week's post; bit of writer's block. So I must credit The Wife for today's topic, cheers love!

When someone asks you how you are, what's your natural response? 'I'm fine thanks' usually suffices, right? Well yeah, of course, cos it's easier to answer with those two words, rather than giving an honest answer – unless you really are fine, in which case 'I'm fine' is, er, fine. But if you're a spoonie, then nine times out of 10 you're not 'fine'. I've just this minute Googled 'I'm fine', and the top result was this poem, which, although written by someone a lot older than myself, pretty much hits the nail bang on the head, particularly the last stanza.

You're probably wondering why spoonies are such a dishonest breed. Let me give you an alternative response to 'I'm fine', then it might make more sense. Hypothetically, on a bad day, if someone was to ask me how I was, I could respond with the following:

'I'm exhausted; I took ages to get to sleep last night, caused by pain, or anxiety about pain/care/new equipment/a long car journey etc. I ache all over because I've been sitting in the same position for God knows how many hours, and I've still got X amount of hours left to get through. I'm absolutely boiling hot, cos I can't seem to regulate my own temperature, and feel constantly overheated, even when it's -5 outside. My hair needs a wash, but last night was a non-carer night, and my mother wasn't in the mood/didn't have the energy/was out. I'm sick of this 'will it/won't it snow?' business because, as a spoonie, snow automatically means not going out for several days – weeks, in the case of 2011 – for fear of getting stuck somewhere, and not being able to just call the AA, as I travel in my non-collapsible, dead fragile, wheelchair. For other spoonies, there's the risk of falling, and causing more damage to yourself. I've had/got a busy week this week, and I'm worried I'm not going to have enough spoons to get me through/over it. I'm really spotty, cos of my raging hormones, but I don't have the time or energy in the morning to put any make-up on, and I certainly don't have the time or energy to use a cleanser – neither does my mother – and that's even if I could get myself close enough to a sink, which I can't.'

Bet you're really glad you asked now, huh? Although the above is a very worst-case scenario, hypothetical kind of response, it is definitely the type of answer that I could give, easily. In fact, some bits of it were true, but I'm not telling you which bits, cos us spoonies tend to shy away from the 'poor me' routine. Without generalising, I think everyone does, to a certain extent; it's that British 'stiff-upper lip' thingy isn't it? No doubt the same could be true for other nationalities, lemme know, I'd be interested to hear the common response to 'how are you?' in Outer Mongolia, for example.

I can only speak for myself, influenced by my spoonie-ness, and say that I use 'I'm fine' for three reasons. Firstly, I really can't be arsed to tell certain people the truth, particularly if it's someone that doesn't know me very well, or I don't trust them enough to be that honest, as I'd have to give a very thorough explanation for them to even begin to understand. Whereas, if I was talking to someone who knew me well, and I trusted, I could give them the bare necessities, and they'd get it. Being honest takes up too much energy, uses too many spoons, for me to waste it on explaining myself to someone who I may never see again, or who probably isn't really that bothered, and would rather I had just stuck with 'I'm fine'.

Secondly, there's the guilt aspect; spoonies are constantly thinking about those around them, and how their disability/illness is affecting them. Well I am, and I know for a fact this is how The Wife thinks. So by telling somebody the truth, I would automatically feel guilty that I'd made them feel bad or, even worse, I'd made them feel sorry for me, which is something no spoonie wants to do. Aside from 'poor you', another response from a non-spoonie may be 'Is there anything I can do?', which of course there isn't, hence more feelings of guilt on the spoonie's part, and helplessness – maybe even pity, yeuch – from the non-spoonie.

Thirdly, as I said before, I personally am not very good at discussing my feelings, so I have to be really close to people, and have built up a lot of trust before I can properly spill. Saying that, I've got a lot better over the past year, probably as a result of the counselling I had, and the confidence that Gloria and VW instilled in me, that it really is ok to not be ok, and to say when that is the case. I'm still pretty picky over who I share everything with, and 'I'm fine' is still my default response to the majority of my friends, but there are the odd exceptions, and I know exactly who I can say 'I'm crap' to. I'm so lucky to have another spoonie in my life, in the form of The Wife as, although we don't the same conditions – though, not that far off either – we totally get each other, and we can be honest. There's no point feeling guilty, cos we're both going through similar crap, and sharing our crap makes it that teensy bit more bearable.

So, if you are a non-spoonie, and you ask a spoonie how they are, don't be at all surprised, or offended, to receive the 'I'm fine' response. It doesn't necessarily mean that person doesn't trust you; it might be that they're trying to spare your feelings, or conserve their energy. If, however, you get an honest response, try not to freak out, or run a mile; that spoonie obviously trusts you a lot, and thinks enough of you to feel that they can share stuff without losing you, so be there for them. Give them a hug, if they can physically manage one – I can't; yet another thing someone can't do for me – or simply listen. It does help.

BW, with a little – ok, a lot – of help from The Wife xxx

The Spoon Theory

2012-02-01T12:00:00.000+00:00

Before I start, I must must must point out that Spoon Theory is not of my design. I wish it was, cos it's amazing, but it was written by Christine Miserandino as a way of explaining what life is like for a person with disabilities or illness. Not an easy feat, but she does it brilliantly; reading her article made me very emotional, cos it was just so bang on. The following post is merely my take on Spoon Theory; summarising it in my own words, and showing you why it gets to me in the way that it does. I strongly suggest you read the original article by Miserandino first, as what I write will never come close to its sheer brilliance:

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory-written-by-christine-miserandino/

As I said, Miserandino created Spoon Theory as a means of explaining a life with a disability or illness, in her case it's Lupus. I totally understand how impossible – until Spoon Theory came along – it is to put into words how your life is affected on a day-to-day basis and, whenever friends ask, I usually just say that I'm used to it, and don't know anything different. While this is true, I realise that it doesn't really answer the question of what it feels like to be disabled, which is the very question that sparked Miserando's original theory.

Without completely rewriting Spoon Theory, which is not the aim of this post, I'll summarise by saying that to answer her friend's question, Miserandino grabbed a number of spoons to visually represent the choices that a disability or illness automatically made you aware of. Each spoon represents a choice or option and, while the majority of people have so many spoons that they don't notice when one is 'used up', people with disabilities do, and need to be aware of exactly how many they have at the beginning of each day. Disabled or ill people have to make choices from the moment they get up in the morning, to last thing at night, and these decisions will all affect how that person's day evolves. Of course, everyone has choices, like what to wear in the morning, what to eat for breakfast, how to travel to work/school etc, but when you have a limited number of spoons, the impact of these choices is much bigger, and their nature also varies.

For instance, Miserandino asks her friend to tell her exactly what she does during the day, beginning with getting up in the morning. The friend says that her first task is to get ready for work; pretty simple and mundane. Not for Miserandino, who immediately takes away a spoon, stating that it's not that easy as you didn't sleep well the night before and are exhausted, you have to summon the energy to get out of bed and have breakfast, so that you can take the medication. Miserandino tells her friend that, by not taking her medication, she is effectively losing all of her spoons for that day.

The theory goes on in this way, with Miserandino taking away a spoon for every decision her friend has had to make during her daily routine. It is possible to increase the amount of spoons you have, by using some of tomorrow's ration, but this just means that tomorrow will be all the more difficult and, as Miserandino says, tomorrow may well be the day that you get ill, so being short of spoons could prove disastrous.

This brief – and not at all as eloquent as Miserandino's – description of Spoon Theory hopefully shows that, if you're disabled or ill, you have to constantly be thinking. You have to plan each and every aspect of your day, no matter how small it may seem, so as to get the most out of it, without burning yourself out. It will probably be the case that you have good and bad days, with no way of knowing when a bad day will occur, and this will always be in the back of a disabled person's mind. Therefore, if you choose to use up some of tomorrow's spoons because you're running low, or maybe you want to do something extra today, there is always the risk that tomorrow will be one of those bad days, and you just don't have enough spoons to get through it.

Miserandino sensed that her friend had begun to understand just a little of what she was going through, and was hopeful that she'd be a bit more considerate and patient in terms of what she can and can't do. To cheer her friend up, Miserandino says that at least she isn't wasteful of her spoons, unlike the many people who don't need to keep track of them, and thus each spoon she uses is really important to her. The fact that Miserandino chooses to use up one of her spoons by spending time with this friend, ultimately places a great importance on this choice; it's not that her friend should feel privileged, on the contrary, it shows how much she means to Miserandino.

Miserandino says she now uses Spoon Theory a lot to answer questions that people may have about her life, and it's caught on, with #spoonie becoming a regular feature on twitter. As Miserandino says, once you understand Spoon Theory, you not only learn more about disability, but disabled people can also learn more about themselves.

I've been trying for days to apply Spoon Theory to my own life, and it's really hard, all the more respect to Miserandino. Unlike Miserandino, I have a physical disability that is obvious, and I've had it all my life, so I'm not trying to get used to a new way of life, or mourning one that I've lost. In that respect, I think I have it 'easier', as I never get the 'but you don't look ill' comments, in fact, people rarely question me at all, I suppose it's a case of 'oh right, she's disabled, OK then'. Also, Miserandino talks about missing the freedom she had back when she was healthy, and how she had to learn how to cope. Again, I don't know anything different, so rather than learning a new regime, I've had nearly 26 years to develop mine. Not that life is completely simple, and a bed of roses, but I don't want people to think I'm bitter and twisted. Yes, there are things I wish I could do, and things that are straightforward for non-disabled people can prove to be a nightmare for me, but I don't have a bad life, not really, and I'm definitely not aiming for the sympathy vote. So thanks, but no thanks.

Like Miserandino, my life is based on choices or, more accurately, a lack of choices. At the moment, I don't have a 'typical' daily routine, as I only work one day a week, and I'm sort of between enablers, so I'll give you a hypothetical, yet based on facts, day in the life of Bad Wolf, #spoonie.

Miserandino gave her friend a bunch of spoons to 'start' her day, and asked her to count them, so as not to waste any. The friend had 12 as it turned out, so let's say I have 12 today too. I lose a spoon as soon as I wake up in the morning, cos I can't choose when I get up and dressed. My mother is currently my main carer, and I have to wait for her to come in and take my CPAP – a mask I wear at night to open my airways – off, before getting me washed and dressed. While we do get up at roughly the same time each day, I have very little control over when this is. Hence, there goes the first spoon. I'll lose the second one almost immediately as, although I do have more than a say in what I wear, it is ultimately mother that has 'the power'. If it's cold, for example, she insists on me wearing long sleeves, thicker tops, and jackets. The obvious response to that would be 'well yeah, she doesn't want you to get cold', but that's the thing; I don't feel the cold. 99% of the time, I'm too hot, and it's uncomfortable. It doesn't help that if I'm not lying in my bed, I'm sitting in my wheelchair, so my back is constantly against something, and doesn't get any air. Mother is obviously aware of this but, due to health problems I had as a child, and the constrictions of my chest, she worries I'll get an infection or something. Moreover, what I wear is governed by my condition. On a good day – which is the basis for this post – I can wear whatever's in the wardrobe, weather and mother permitting, natch. On a bad day, I may have to put on clothes that require the least amount of effort – loose, generally unflattering garments – depending on where, and how bad, my pain is. So my lack of control over choosing exactly what I put on in the morning takes me down to 10 spoons. Even if I put on a layout that can be removed later in the day, it depends who I'm with as to whether I actually can do so thus, technically, that would be me losing another spoon then.

The next logical step would be to have breakfast, right? Er, wrong. I don't eat breakfast, largely cos I never feel up to it in the mornings; I usually feel pretty rough actually. Also, I now only seem to be able to manage one meal a day, two tops. I deliberately choose not to eat breakfast, so that I can manage a meal later on at lunch time – not always – and feel more inclined to eat in the evenings, when we have our main meal. Without going into too much of the gory – and embarrassing – details, this stems from an operation I had when I was six, to fuse my curvy spine. Let's just say, it left me unable to go to the loo without, er, intervention, which, together with my small size, means that I'm not often what you'd call comfortable. Ahem, right, choosing when and when not to eat; minus one spoon.

Finally with the breakfast thing, not eating in the mornings means I have more time. I don't always sleep too well, so those few extra minutes I save by not having breakfast, and getting up that fraction later, are pretty priceless. It means I don't have to rush, which I'm really not up to in the mornings anyway, and gives mother a couple more minutes to herself, rather than helping me eat.

Talking of time, I'd love to be able to slap some make-up on in the mornings but, cos I have limited movement in my arms, this can take me a good while. I can only get my hands properly up to my face while lying down – cos I'm more relaxed, and less constricted – so putting make-up on in bed, whilst dressed, is not something that can be rushed. Hence, on an average day, I don't bother. Bizarrely, this task uses quite a lot of energy too, as my arms get achy, particularly my left, which has a metal pin in it. Doing too much with this arm results in it bloody hurting but, technically, it's my 'good' arm, so I have to think about which tasks are necessary, and which are luxuries. Either way, whether I bother or not, I lose a spoon.

If I know the night before that I'll have time to preen, cos I'm not going out till later in the day; or I just want to look half decent, I'll make the effort to get everything out and ready then, saving a bit of time and energy, but subsequently using an extra spoon. Course, putting make-up on requires taking it off at the end of the day, when my energy supplies are running low; bye-bye spoon.

I'm now down to six spoons – I've decided to put make-up on – and am planning on going out with my enabler. Ha, there go four spoons. I lose the first because it's not as simple as just Going Out; I can't leave plans till the last minute, as I have to arrange a time well in advance, that's suitable for my enabler, friends I may be meeting, and mother, who's effectively being deprived of a car – albeit, my car. There goes another spoon, as I find travelling in a car dead uncomfortable. I travel in the back, in my wheelchair, and can feel every single bump and pothole on the road, due to the car's lowered floor, and the lack of cushioning between floor and me. Even on a good day it hurts, and I often wind up with a headache that lasts the rest of the day. I'm a bit of a nervous passenger too, following a car accident (see The Event) and, even though I'm much better than I was, I still find longer journeys, unknown roads, and motorways stressful. Don't even get me started on public transport, becaus even if I could physically, I don't think I could mentally, or emotionally, cope.

Fitting in with the plans of others results in the loss of another spoon as, if I wanted to go to the cinema, it's not necessarily my decision as to what time I go, or even where – going to a larger cinema further afield requires extra time, which may not be possible. I rarely bother to go to the cinema for these reasons as, nine times outta 10, the films I want to see aren't showing at a time that's convenient. Going for coffee or lunch is the easier option, yet still requires much forward planning, as a time that may be good for me and my enabler may not work for friend(s); I couldn't go out in the evening, for example.

The fact that I've chosen to go out for a substantial amount of time automatically robs me of another spoon, as I find just sitting incredibly tiring. Once I'm in my wheelchair, I'm unable to alter my position and, though I start off pretty comfortable, it doesn't last long, as my muscles, neck and back soon start to ache. I often find that, if I've been in my chair for four hours – which isn't that long if you think about it – or more, I really feel it the next day, and don't have a lot of energy to do much. Thus, planning to go out really requires me 'borrowing' a spoon or two from the next day.

Ok, I'm back home after a day out, I've taken my make-up off, I'm tired and probably achy, and I've got two spoons left. Tired and achy screams bath, but no, I can only do that on one of the days I have carers in, unless mother's feeling particularly energetic and generous; one spoon.

I'll generally lie in bed and watch TV for the rest of the evening; there's no point me turning in for the night until the parentals retire – which is never late – as I'm rubbish at sleeping, so any noise/movement/light is bound to keep me awake. Equally, if I wanted to stay up and watch something later, that's pretty much out the question too, cos I can't turn the TV off at the mains, and can't bear the standby light shining right in my eyes. A bit pathetic, I know. Lack of control over bedtime, and I am out of spoons.
There we are then, my life as a spoonie. That would all have happened on a good day; a bad day – i.e. I have a broken bone – would see me with a lot less spoons to start with. Depending on where I was on the 'pain scale' – one being the lowest, 10 being the worst pain you've ever had – I'd probably be laid up in bed, trying to conserve my spoons. I won't go into the details of a bad day any further as, frankly, this post is long enough, and I do genuinely have more good days than bad. Besides, thinking about the 'what ifs?' has a habit of driving me insane; if I worried about breaking something every time I moved – or even breathed, it's happened – then I'd never do anything, and I'd just be completely paranoid. So let's not go there.

I hope that this examination of Miserandino's brilliant Spoon Theory has helped give you more of an insight into me, and the limitations that disabled people have in general. While we all have different reasons for losing our spoons, we're all the same in that we notice when we've lost one. It is crap not being in control, and missing out on everyday social things that a lot of people take for granted. So if anything, I hope this will make those of you with a disabled friend or relative more understanding of their limitations, and give those of you with disabilities a way of explaining yourself. Not that we have to, or should, but just in case those awkward questions arise.

BW xxx

Doctor When

2012-01-25T13:50:00.000+00:00

I graduated on Saturday! You are now looking at [the blog of] Bad Wolf MA *beams* - that is never gonna get old Bit surreal really, being up on that stage with the lovely Floella 'Make a difference, change the world, make us proud' Benjamin. Many times I thought I'd never make it to graduation, and I know I freaked out those around me too (Gloria, The Wife), but they kept me sane, and both of them have said how proud they are, which means a lot.

What also felt weird was being on campus as a non-student. I know I've worked at the museum for four months now, but that feels different somehow, largely cos it's kinda on the edge of campus, and maybe just cos it feels like a job – albeit unpaid. Not that I miss being a student, hell no. Though, apparently, I want to do a PhD… Funny story, not.

After the ceremony on Saturday, I went up to the reception to see a few people, and was immediately accosted by The Prof. with 'I hear you want to do a PhD?'. Slightly lost for words, I didn't immediately respond, other than to um and ahh a bit, but mother, well, she jumped on this bandwagon. So mother and The Prof. set about planning my future, discussing possible funding opportunities and so on. The Prof. then calls over another Film lecturer, Bill, and tells him how interested I am in taking on a doctorate. Fortunately, for me, he had to rush off to pick up his brood, but not before agreeing wholeheartedly with The Prof. that there is absolutely no reason why I shouldn't apply for, and receive, funding.

Then we see my boss who mother, excited by the aforementioned conversation, harasses into giving his opinion on the matter. He agreed with The Prof. and Bill – well of course he would – that there were many funding options available, and he'd even look into them for me – woo hoo. Boss even asked if I wanted him to arrange for South to come and see me while I'm working at, to talk about possible PhD topics – OK, this I readily agreed to. Sing was there too, and he was about the only one that listened to me that day when I said I didn't miss studying, and wasn't ready to do a PhD yet. Though, that was probably because mother had left me unattended for all of a minute to go and get a drink. Bless all these people for trying their best; they obviously believed that, not only did I want to do it, but that I could do it, which is naturally very flattering.

God, I even got a congratulations card from Gloria's daughter-in-law, saying 'Hope the PhD is going well'. It really did feel like I was the only one that didn't think I was doing a PhD, though The Wife and VW both advised me not to do it, while Gloria told me to do what I thought was right, cos they listen, see?

I went home on a natural high from the festivities and, while the threat of a PhD had seemed to move closer, and it was all mother could talk about, it still only felt like a threat; not a promise. However, on Monday night I switch on my BlackBerry – yup, I finally have a decent phone – to discover three e-mails from Boss; two of them information on post-graduate funding, while the other is informing me that he's arranged for Bill to come down to tomorrow (yesterday), to discuss applying for the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) grant, whose deadline closes on January 31^st. Now, I have to admit, I knew when the AHRC deadline was, and I was deliberately trying to avoid it. Well, if I wasn't planning on applying, why did I need to acknowledge it? But, because Boss and Bill had been led to believe that this is what I wanted to do, they considered this 'urgent'. Cue freak out. Seriously, I cried, my heart raced; total flight response. I just felt like I'd suddenly been pushed into a corner, and there was no way out – stupid I know. The Wife, quite rightly, gave me a virtual slap, and told me to just say no, but I felt so guilty. These people had gone to some trouble to try and help me out, and I was going to look like a right idiot, and totally waste their time, by saying that, actually, I don't want to do this.

That physical reaction I had was almost the last bit of proof I needed that I really wasn't ready, it was similar to how I often felt during the MA; totally out of control, and overwhelmed. It's like, I'd put the MA, and all my feelings towards it – good and bad – away in a box on a shelf in my mind, and I was quite happy with it just sitting there. I knew it was there, and it was well within my reach, but it was tucked away enough that it wasn't bothering me, and I wasn't constantly tripping over it. Now though, with all this talk of the PhD, it was like someone had come in and found my MA box, tipped it all over the floor, and left a right mess in my already cluttered mind. The MA is still comparatively recent too, so all these feelings are pretty raw, which doesn't help. Suppose it's like after giving birth, you'd say 'never again', but a couple years later... Yeah well, I haven't forgotten the pain yet.

So anyway, I was worried. I knew I had to tell Bill the full story but, aside from looking like a time waster, I knew I'd probably get upset talking about all this, and I hate crying in front of people. Especially male people. Bill was 'booked' to be there at 10 a.m., for when I arrived at the museum, and I was worried that mother – who drops me off – would insist on staying, and I wouldn't get a word in edgeways. Fortunately, Bill was characteristically late, and mother had already gone.

Bill, and Boss – we stayed in the main office, so it wasn't exactly private – were great! Neither of them had realised how uncertain I was, and Bill was so understanding, telling me I should only ever do the PhD when I was ready – which is what The Legend said to me ages ago. I told Bill how tough I'd found the MA – I could totally feel myself getting upset – and he agreed I should give myself some time to really think about what I wanted, and take that pressure off. He could see I'd been flattered by the fact that everyone believed I could do it – everyone in the Film department apparently, *blushes* – but I shouldn't do it because other people wanted me to, or because there was a window of opportunity; there would be more. Finally, Bill said that I was in the perfect place being in the museum, and I could use that to my advantage; if I come across something interesting while cataloguing, that I'd like to research further, that could become the basis of my thesis. Equally, Boss said that if I came up with an idea that I'd like to look into, and he knew that the museum held relevant artefacts, he'd let me use my time there to view them. I'm to use my position as an advantage – not something that occurs often – and call on Bill/HH/The Legend/Sing/South if and when I ever need them cos, even though I'm not a student anymore, I'm still 'one of their favourites', so they'd make an exception for me.

Aaaaand relax! That convo was just what I needed, and to think, it was with Bill, i.e. A Bloke. They do have hearts sometimes. I was planning to have this kind of conversation in the near future anyway, to clear the air, and try and sort out how I felt about a PhD, but I was thinking of talking to HH, or The Legend. Although initially I freaked out about being put in that position, I'm glad I was in the end, as it made me confront the issue, and voice how I really felt. OK, so Bill and Boss maybe weren't the ideal sounding boards but, actually, I think that almost helped, as I had to a) really compose myself, and make my thoughts cohesive, rather than be an emotional wreck and b), it's always supposed to be easier to talk to someone less involved. Personally, I'm not very good at talking, and I have to really bond with people, and trust them within an inch of my life before I tell them anything remotely juicy, so Gloria, VW, and The Wife know everything, I should think they need counselling now. So I was quite surprised how honest I was with Bill; maybe I've grown up a bit, and learnt to speak up for myself. It's only taken 25 and a half years, not bad. Or maybe I trust Bill more than I thought, and I should give him more credit, after all, I've known him for over four years, and he and the Film/English department have been incredibly supportive; still are it appears.

So I feel much better, like a weight has been lifted. A weight that I wasn't completely aware even existed. As far as I was concerned, I had no immediate plans to do a PhD; it was like a threatening storm cloud, just viewable in the distance. After the events of the weekend, said cloud was right overhead, about to drown me, but now it's back on the horizon again. It doesn't seem that threatening anymore either, weirdly. When I repeated my conversation with Bill to mother – not exactly word for word, but she got the gist – I actually felt positive, and even talked about my next graduation with The Wife – who was appalled. Knowing I've still got the support of the staff that I've grown to love over the past four years is an incredible boost, and having the time and resources to make my decision without any pressure is brilliant. I'm not saying I will definitely be applying next year and, even if I did, there's no guarantee I'd get funding anyway, but I do feel that it is something that I'm probably going to do now, whereas before, it was probably not. Might change my mind again tomorrow, knowing me I probably will.

BW MA xxx

Re-Enablement

2012-01-18T12:30:00.000+00:00

*Updated 25/01/12*

Something else pretty big happened last year; my enabler, VW, got pregnant. Now I know this news is obviously way bigger and more important to her than it will ever be to me as, unfortunately, I had nothing to do with this, much as I love her. It's still a mahoosive thing for me though, as I will now explain, whist trying to redeem my inner selflessness. It's not all about me, honest.

Without going into too much detail, VW was, basically, under the assumption that it would be very difficult for her to have children, maybe even impossible. So when she told me last June that she was pregnant, it was quite a shock for both of us. I must clarify here, in case she reads this; when I say she told me, what actually happened was I dragged it out of her. Harsh I know. I didn't mean to, but she was being all mysterious, asking if I had any plans for the following week, as she wasn't going to be able to see me. I initially assumed she was covering for someone else, no. Going away with the boyfriend? Noo. Skiving? Nooo. I don't even know what made me ask her if she was pregnant, but I did. Yes. Cue emotional 'I'm very pleased/happy for you' speech, which of course I was – am. I knew how much she wanted this, and how awesome she's going to be, but also, at the back of my mind, I knew that this meant I'd eventually lose her.

She has been brilliant over the past seven months, trying to help me get things sorted for when she leaves in February. Aside from [some of] my family and friends, I have very little outside support. I have a couple of regular carers that come throughout the week to help with bathing, and another to help me at lunchtime when I'm at the museum but, apart from that, and VW, I have zilch. My home carers can only do so much, as they're not allowed to lift me, and I'm still waiting for a hoist to be set up. Not sure if I've mentioned this before but, cos of my condition (Brittle Bone Disease, or O.I), moving me isn't a straightforward task. My mother has always done 99% of the lifting, with the odd exception of very trusted [and brave] friends and other relatives, and she still does it all today. I've been waiting for my, frankly, rubbish Occupational Therapist to come up with a suitable means of hoisting me from A. to B. for what must be almost two years now. I know I'm a difficult case, but really, does it have to be this hard? Anyway, digressing. The point is, that VW has been fighting this already crappy system on my behalf in order to, a) try and resolve the above issue and b), set me up with a suitable replacement, to fill the huge void she'll be leaving in my life. Not possible, but bless her for trying.

For reasons that are far too complicated for me to understand, let alone write, I never had to pay anything for VW's services – innuendo much intended. It was actually one of the few things that my OT did get right, the other was finding a house for me and my mum when we really needed to get out of a bad situation. VW's role was chiefly to give me back the confidence I lost after The Event, and to provide me with some much-needed independence. She certainly did both of those things, but particularly the first, as I now barely think anything of going out in the car – unless it's a motorway trip, that still bothers me a little, but really, minor. Hence why I didn't have to pay I suppose, as this was classed as 're-enablement'; a service helping people get back on their feet – so to speak – after a difficult time, an illness, hospitalisation etc. This was only meant to last for a few months; until I was back to 'normal' again anyway, but two years later…

What I need, and what VW has been doing for me for the past two years – somewhat under the radar – is an enabler. Someone to take me out shopping, cinema, to meet friends, and so on. Obviously, none of this comes free, and this is what VW has been helping me sort out; putting a rocket under my useless OT, in order to get her to reassess me, so that I can have more hours of enabling time, and the money to pay for it – courtesy of Direct Payments.

VW must have actual magical powers cos, finally, after much pissing around – by OT, but you got that – it is sorted, and my new enabler starts in February. Hoorah. Obviously, nothing is that simple. Yes, I'm happy because I managed to claw a couple of extra hours out of the government, who totally bloody owe me (see The Event) - I'm now entitled to five whole hours a week, as opposed to three. Yes, I'm also happy with my new enabler, as I chose her - it's one of the carers that comes in the week, so I'm used to her already, and we get on well. She's not taken me out yet, or practised securing me in the car and, while I might find it a bit difficult to get used to somebody else driving, I reckon I'll be alright, in a not-freaking-out-kinda-way. Besides, I've come to realise over the past couple of years particularly, that this – getting used to other people doing things for me – is my life, I've just gotta deal with it. My mother can't do everything for ever, and I wouldn't want her to; she's done enough. We should've sorted al this out a long time ago, then I probably wouldn't have so many issues about learning to trust new people. We kinda just struggled on, finding our own way to do things, without asking for any help; and look where that got us. There is loads of amazing support out there for people with disabilities, and I've experienced just a fraction of it, but my main source of support has been from my friends, particularly Gloria and VW, and family. I think it's about time somebody else chipped in. I'm not saying the world owes me, but my friends and family need a break so that they can be just friends and family, not carers, and it's not like I've asked for a lot over the past [nearly] 26 years.

Course, getting use to a new team means saying goodbye to the old one, and it is gonna be super hard to do that where VW is concerned. Aside from everything I've already credited her for, she has been a brilliant friend. I've never really had the opportunity to just go out with a friend, and be normal, so for a couple of hours a week, VW gave me that experience. Yes, OK, that was her job, and she was getting paid for it, so maybe that doesn't make it a 'real' friendship. But I think the world of her, and I hope she sees me as a friend now, rather than just a client. I haven't asked, as this would come across as needy – right? I'm just going by the fact that we talk a lot and, while she is a very open person anyway, some of the stuff she's told me is the sort of thing you'd only tell those you really trust, so if I'm in that category, then that'll do me.

She's also enabled me – see what I did there? – to feel involved with her pregnancy; something that I largely missed out on with other friends, as I never saw them. It has been incredible, without being too mushy. Not so much the 'miracle of life' stuff – yawn – but more how it's affected her. It's gone so quickly, and obviously there's the physical changes – though she still looks amazing. Bitch – but the emotional/personality changes have been the most eye-opening. VW's always been one of those people that only cries if she's very upset, and doesn't often let you know that she's worried about anything, mainly cos doesn't often seem to worry or dwell on things that can't be changed. Nothing like me at all! Now though, thanks to those blessed hormones, she cries at anything and, more recently, is really paranoid about things that are so unlikely to happen. Last week she nearly had me going when she said she wanted to learn first aid, as one of the things that she's worrying about is the baby dying. I wasn't upset cos I'd had the same thoughts – I hadn't – but because she was having them. It killed me to think that my fearless VW, who has wanted this so badly, could ever be freaked out by – basically – the scariest thought a woman can have. And there's absolutely nothing I can do for her, apart from being a mate, and letting her know she can always talk to me about anything. Not that I know much, and even less about pregnancy and babies, but I can have a go. I could never do for her what she's done for me, which is quite hard to get over, as I often feel pretty useless, but as long as I offer myself as a friend, what more can I do?

I hope this won't be the end of a beautiful friendship, and that VW – and bump – will be part of my life for a very long time. Don't think I'd be quite the same without her. Or quite as sane.

BW xxx

* We had a practise run of getting me in and out the car on Monday, with VW giving a demo, and SB – VW's replacement – having a go herself. When it was SB's turn, VW turned to me and said 'this is weird', meaning it didn't feel that long ago that she was learning the ropes, and now she was handing over to someone else. I think she felt quite protective, telling SB to be careful when driving over rough roads, and telling me afterwards that, if ever something didn't feel right, I must say so. Monday the 6^th of February – VW's last day with me – is going to be a very emotional one. Though, I was given a pretty strong assurance that I'm not going to lose VW completely, with her making plans to meet me, with my new enabler, in town, once she's recovered and all.

Job's Worth

2012-01-12T13:32:00.001+00:00

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not sitting here twiddling my thumbs, hell no; I have A Job. I know, right? Shocking.

While I was researching my dissertation, I spent a bit of time in the campus' very own Film museum, and figured I might as well ask the curator, Mr Wickham (HH's equally awesome husband) for a job. I've known for ages that the museum takes on volunteers, and was always tempted to sign up, but didn't think I'd have been able to manage that along with the degree/MA. Looking back, I know I wouldn't have been able to do both. I'd already decided I wasn't gonna do the student thing for a long, long time after finishing the MA, but kinda worried I was gonna miss the security of knowing exactly where I was, and who I was with. Everyone at the University had been so amazing that, although I was saying goodbye to some extent, I wouldn't have to leave completely. I know that sounds a bit pathetic, but when you've built up that much trust and confidence, it's difficult to leave it all behind. Also, maybe I felt that by not completely leaving, I'd have loads of support, and [free] resources, on tap, in case I ever wanted to come back. That, and I'm hoping that, if I show enough willing, this job might lead to something more permanent.

Luckily, Mr Wickham said yes, and I am now Chief Cataloguer [self-titled] of The Robin Allan Disney Archive. I'm ashamed to say I don't yet know a lot about Allan, other than he has written books on the history of the Disney studios including, most famously: Walt Disney and Europe: European Influences on the Animated Feature Films of Walt Disney (1999).

During his research, Allan met with animators, and others associated with Disney, and subsequently donated a load of his findings to the museum. There's tons of it; from newspaper clippings, to greetings cards designed by the animators themselves – Eyvind Earle, Mary Blair are two I can remember off the top of my head. Cos I happened to write 20,000 words on Disney, Mr Wickham automatically set me the task of working on this archive. So not complaining, it's brilliant! Course, some of the stuff is dead tacky, and not really that interesting, but most of it is great – and very pinchable; not that I ever would, natch. Really though, it's not what I'm working with that's important, it's the fact that I'm working with it at all. Alright, so I don't get paid, which to some means that it's not a 'proper job', but it's still a job. It's still a responsibility that requires at least half a brain to manage; if I got the item numbers mixed up, then the consequences could be catastrophic... Well, it would make it very difficult for someone searching for an item within the archive anyway. I have to write a brief description for each item and, while I'm not going to win any literary awards, I was pretty proud to see my first few entries go up on the online catalogue. Even more proud to see a small article go up on the museum's Facebook page - I'm a slave to modernism.

Yeah, so I'm pretty happy in my work, and I think Mr Wickham is relatively impressed with what I'm doing. Bless him, he's marvellous. He's always making sure that I'm OK, and asking if there's anything else he can do to make things easier. Such an atypical bloke. He's so calm and quiet too, possibly HH's influence, but the museum does seem to descend into chaos whenever he's not there. Hope he doesn't read this, cos that might worry him. I mean comparatively speaking, of course.

Working one day a week, unpaid, at the university where I studied for four years may not seem such a big deal to a lot of people, but for me it is. I've had jobs before, paid jobs actually, but I've never gone out to work; with the exception of a quarterly meeting for a disability magazine I used to write for. A lot of my friends are all 'Ah, that's good, well done you', and I think 99% of them really do mean it. Without assuming too much, I reckon Gloria for one is pretty proud, from what I've gleaned from @sarahwithstars. Actually, just remembered; the museum had a children's fun day last October, to which Gloria came down for a visit. I rang her a few weeks later with my MA results – so it was a pretty emotional conversation anyway, and I can't remember much of it, annoyingly – but I do remember her saying how well she thought I'd done that day, and how confident and happy I seemed. Gloria is just the best ego booster ever, she should be bottled.

Anyway, so I know I have the support of me crew at least. Not so sure on the family. I mean, of course they're proud by default, but whether they're as made up about it as I am, and my friends are, I'm not sure. Mum keeps referring to it as my 'little job' in conversation, which grates on me just a tadge. Alright, so I'm not on the brink of finding a cure for cancer, but at least I'm making some effort to do something with my life, rather than hanging around at home, annoying her – I can do that the other six days a week. I dunno, I'm probably reading too much into it, as per. She is disappointed that I'm so anti-PhD, and maybe thinks, like I said in my last post, that she won't ever see me graduate as a Doctor. Honestly, are two graduation ceremonies not enough for some parents? Not that we've been to the second one yet, it's next Saturday (21st). Big day. Big day. So much bigger than the last one. Not just in terms of the qualification being higher, but after everything that happened in 2011, and the worry that I put everyone through, let alone myself; this means hell of a lot more than the degree did. God, I may even cry… If Gloria does – and she's sitting right up front with us this time – then I don't hold out a lot of hope. It'll be good to see Floella Benjamin OBE (the university's Chancellor) again too. Got a feeling she might recognise me – not being big-headed; I'm the only one in the Department in a wheelchair. Thinking of greeting her with 'Hey, we have got to stop meeting like this!'

BW xxx

Great Expectations

2012-01-07T12:04:00.002+00:00

Yup, I had a baby... But not in the way you're thinking. Well, the way I think you're thinking anyway... Lemme explain.

OK, so there I am, at the beginning of 2011, struggling away with, frankly, everything. Although I'd started to get myself mentally together in February, and was feeling a lot more positive about certain things, I was completely panicking about the 20,000 word dissertation I still had to write, in order to even attempt to pass my MA in Film. The thought of it scared me half to death; I just couldn't imagine being mentally, and physically, able to cobble together enough research to 'fuel' a 20k essay, let alone write the thing. I also had no idea what I wanted to write about. I remember going to see The Legend in December, who tried to get me to think of a subject – or 'corpus' – I'd enjoy writing about. We discussed maybe writing about the portrayal of women in vampire films – I did know I wanted to focus on feminism. Really though, I was pretty clueless, and not particularly passionate – an important word, will feature heavily in this post – about any subject. I came away from that meeting feeling rubbish – absolutely no reflection on The Legend – so much so, that I reckon I could pinpoint this exact day as the tipping point; the day that it all just got way too much. The day my head exploded... Figuratively speaking, natch.

The next couple months are a bit of a blur, to be honest. I know that, after Christmas, once the worry regarding that, coupled with my bonkers family – and other animals – was over with, I definitely started to pull myself together. Counselling began in March, after my friend Gloria had already removed a load of weight off my shoulders, simply by listening, and I just had one – huge – hurdle left to stagger over, which [finally] leads me back to the beginning – and point – of this post.

While I'd not stopped thinking [fretting] about the dissertation since November, I'd also tried really hard not to think about it, which is as difficult to do as it is to explain. It wasn't till late February, that I finally hit on an idea that might just work as an MA thesis. I'd just written an essay for Sing's module on New Cinemas; we had to choose a film that had sparked debate, positive or negative, over its portrayal of a group not normally the focus of mainstream cinema, i.e. the elderly, disabled, homosexual, those of ethnic origin. Thinking outside the box, I wrote on Disney's Aladdin (1992), and how it, in a nutshell, Westernised the goodies, and emphasised the foreignness of the bad guys.

For the first time in ages, I actually enjoyed writing and researching an essay – what wasn't to like? I had to watch Aladdin several times over – and thought that, maybe, mixing a childish love of Disney with a spot of feminism might be enough to drag me through the next seven months. A lunch date with The Legend helped to finalise this idea, and she sent me off with a few – OK, loads of – wise words, and a starting point for my research. I was still bloody petrified and, had someone said that I could pass the MA without writing the dissertation, then I would have asked them where to sign. In fact, someone sorta did, as Gloria – whose husband is a lecturer – thought that there was a way of avoiding a dissertation, probably based on extenuating circumstances, which resulted in some form of qualification, albeit of a lesser status than a Masters. Bearing in mind what I've just said, and how I was feeling then, it really never occurred to me to just not do it. I suppose I saw it as yet another challenge, and didn't wanna play the 'I'm disabled/stressed' card to get out of doing something that, maybe subconsciously, I knew I could do.

When I saw her a few weeks ago, Gloria confessed that she'd worried I wasn't gonna see the dissertation through. Now, if anyone else had said that, or I'd not completely understood where Gloria was coming from – after all, I was there – I could've been offended into thinking she didn't believe I could do it. But that's not what she meant at all, and a chat with @sarahwithstars – aka The Wife, Gloria's niece, my soul mate – confirmed this. Both Gloria and @sarahwithstars were worried that I didn't believe in myself enough to realise that, actually, I was being a tit – as @sarahwithstars would say – and that this was very doable. Also, back when I was just starting to research, and formulate ideas, Gloria was desperate for me to feel passionate – there it is – in order for me to get anything out of this experience, and to care about it. Well, I definitely wasn't passionate, and thought Gloria was possibly a bit bonkers – who gets excited about an essay? This perception wasn't helped by the fact that Gloria said she'd written her Masters dissertation in three weeks, WTF? So not possible…

I can't really remember the exact order of events that led up to finalising a title but, eventually, this is what I came up with:

'The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale?'

Catchy, no? To cut what was a very long process short, I basically figured that the Renaissance era of Disney (1989-99 approx) would provide a narrow, yet interesting background, as it was supposedly a time of change, and modernisation. To narrow it down even further, I chose just two films to focus on; The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989), and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991) and, as both of these stories derived from fairy tales, this became the final element.

I was assigned the incredible HH as my supervisor, who I'd previously had for a module on film adaptation so, naturally, this became a big part of my writing; the rationale for the way that these films were adapted, and moulded, by Disney.

I'm not gonna say much more about the content of the dissertation, as I'm hoping to put it up on here, in a modified state, soon. What I will say, and I've hinted at it enough for you to probably not be surprised to learn that… I totally fell in love with my dissertation. I got passionate! Way, way too much actually. Just seeing everything fit together, like my choice of films opening the door for an analysis of fairy tales, or HH providing me with tonnes of resources regarding adaptation theory, became exciting. God, I never thought I'd be one of those people, who got excited about research. Wow. But I did

HH played a big part in my total mind shift. She was such a calming influence, and constantly told me that 'I could do it'. Yes, Gloria had been saying the exact same thing for months, but I think hearing it from somebody else, who wasn't so close, and who wasn't obliged – as a friend would naturally be – to say 'of course you can do it', gave me the final push I needed. I wouldn't say I couldn't have done it without HH or Gloria – though there are many things I couldn't have done without the latter – but without them, I don't think I would have got half as passionate about what I was writing, and the end result definitely wouldn't be what it is today. I wouldn't love it like I do either, I call it my baby. Seriously though, that's not a bad analogy; it took nine months – November, when I started thinking of a suitable subject, to August, when I handed in – of preparation, worry, stress, and discomfort – I barely slept or ate while I was writing – only for me to be left with something that I couldn't leave alone, was immensely proud of, and actually missed when I finally decided that I couldn't do any more for it. To it. See?! I cried when I finished it, HH [nearly] cried I told her I'd finished, and Gloria [again, nearly] cried when I handed in. It was a very emotional time for all concerned. Oh, and what I said about it not being possible to write 20,000 words in three weeks? Yeah, I was wrong; It is. Gloria's always right.

Am I glad I did it? Yup. Would I do it again? Nope. As much as I [eventually] enjoyed the process, it has well and truly put me off studying any further for a long time. Though maybe not forever. The next logical step is a PhD and, while it'd be awesome to be a Doctor, and my mother's desperate for me to do it, the thought of putting myself through all that again, times five – a PhD thesis is 100,000 words – scares the crap outta me; an altogether too familiar feeling. Part of me almost feels I should do it for my parents - who aren't getting any younger - kind of as a 'thanks for supporting me' gesture, and I know there would be a fair few other people who'd be dead proud too; Gloria and The Legend for a start. That thought; of how it would make other people feel, sways me one way. That, and the fact it'd give me a purpose in life for another three years. However, as The Legend said recently, you've gotta a) really want to do a PhD, b) have a 100% solid idea of what to write about and c), be passionate – last time I'm using that word today, promise – about the subject. Currently, a) I don't want to do a PhD, and I'm certainly not doing it because other people want me to, it's got to be for me, or merely as something to do; b) I have a rough idea of what I'd write about, but it largely depends on what's already out there; c) I think maybe all the passion – sorry, that was the last time – I did have got poured into the MA, and there's not a whole lot left. If – dunno, maybe 'when' – I can get conditions a. and c. up to the level of b., then yeah. Maybe. Watch this space… For quite a while.

BW xxx

PS, I do have a potential title for a PhD thesis; it literally popped into my mind a couple days ago, when I was barely thinking about it – I was actually thinking how much I did not want to do it. This title-enlightenment means nothing. Totally zilch. Nada. Nowt.

2011 in a Nutshell

2012-01-04T15:21:00.000+00:00

Bloody hard work!

No, don't worry, that's not it. I know I've been very, very absent over the past 11 months - has it really been that long? Man - But believe me, I've had my reasons.

OK,where the hell to start?   Maybe where I left off last February  So, I had counselling, and it was good. Seriously. I didn't need to freak out about it, story of my life; maybe my New Year's resolution should be 'I Will Not Freak Out'. Yeah, that'll work.   Anywho, although it wasn't face-to-face, and therefore may not be considered as 'real', or 'proper' by some, including me at first, I'll admit, it really was helpful. Just being able to write everything down, all my deepest, darkests, and know that the person reading it was not gonna judge, or criticise what I had to say, was marvellous. That, and the fact I wasn't burdening yet another friend with my baggage. I mean, really, I could've got a similar effect if I'd just carried on blogging... wait a minute, now I realise! D'oh. But at least with the counselling, I was guaranteed a response from a pro - I assume - who, while not allowed to give advice, was able to guide my ramblings into some form of cohesive logic. Yeah, she must've been a professional, cos no one else would've stood a chance. I told her the whole family saga, and I was finally able to make some sense of the whys and wherefores of my crazy, messed up mind. I've still got everything I wrote, plus the counsellor's responses. Don't think I've read any of it since then, but it's almost comforting to know I can look back at it all again if I ever need to. Remind myself that it is do-able.

I didn't keep up with the mentoring, which I did feel a bit bad about, as everyone had gone to so much trouble to put me back together again, when I was blatantly cracking up.  I just found that, by releasing all the stress and emotions over the family issues, everything else seemed to fall into place. I genuinely had a light switch moment; when one day I just felt better, in control, like I could actually do this. It was still hard, and I had my bad days, still do, but at least I didn't feel so shit-scared and alone. Always a bonus. So yeah, counselling, in any form; recommended. Failing that, write everything down, diary-stylee, or even simple bullet points, or a brainstorm - love a brainstorm - so you can make sense of how you're feeling, draw connections between thoughts and events, pinpoint triggers that make you feel good/bad/ugly.

Maybe that's one of the reasons I've started blogging again today - the second reason being to do something constructive, and not be such a lazy cow, wolf - not cos I feel crap, and need to vent, but as a preventative measure. The counselling only lasted six or seven weeks, and I found I missed it for a bit afterwards, so what better way to make sense of my innermost thoughts and anxieties, than publicly, over the World Wide Web. Genius.

I know I keep on about it, but I really can't get over how much better I feel now, in comparison to this time last year. It does get better. It's hard to believe when you're feeling rubbish, and the proverbial shoe's been on the other foot lately, with me trying to offer help to friends, so I know how difficult it is to both accept, and convince, that you will get though it. @abbey_queenofall tweeted me the other day, saying she'd read my last post (yay, somebody does), and was currently going through similar feelings.  I hope I helped her a bit, basically by saying all of the above (in 140 characters, natch), and if reading my, somewhat garbled, ramblings makes one person feel a teensy bit better, then that's cool. Peace out peeps, and Happy New Year!

BW xxx

NB: Next time, I'll actually explain what I've been doing for nearly a year, to account for my lack of blogging. I'll give you some clues; it took nine months of planning, and caused a lot of pain...

So no one told you life was gonna be this way...

2011-02-14T14:51:00.000+00:00

*Clap clap clap clap*

Ok, so my job's not a joke, as I don't have one, and I'm not broke; though I'm certainly not rich. Nowhere near. I wouldn't even describe myself as 'comfortable', just um, stable? My love life definitely is DOA. Fact. But, all that aside, I'm using the above Rembrandts lyric to illustrate the following point: that friends are there for you, well, me anyway.

I finally shared a secret with a friend, specifically Gloria, a couple weeks ago, and it really did feel like the proverbial weight had been lifted. I still can't really elaborate too much on what this secret is, though I suppose this blog is meant to be anonymous... Still, you never know, so let's just say I used to live with a very difficult, at times violent, family member; but I don't anymore. Haven't told many people about this, a) it's not the kinda thing that one can easily bring up in conversation, b) other family members would be furious with me if they found out I'd been telling tales, in case the 'culprit' was put in jeopardy; God forbid. Families have very strange ideologies don't they? Kind of a pack mentality. Anyway, c) it's bloody hard to talk about.

On the one hand I feel really guilty, like every time I do say something, I'm betraying certain members of my family, or pack; those that have seemingly put all this in the past, and have moved on. Maybe I'm not a very forgiving person. On the other hand, I feel like I should be allowed to talk about such things if I want to. It's my right, damn it. And aside from the whole freedom of speech aspect, I got to the point recently that if I didn't talk, I was gonna go crazy. Again.

That's one of the many reasons why I was so messed up last year as, although this is technically all in the past, it can still so easily flare up again, with Christmas being a major catalyst. Is it me, or does Christmas make everything like 10 times worse? It's such a big deal to be all together as one big happy family, but the reality is that sometimes this is a Total Nightmare. So yeah, Christmas + family issues + mountain of essays = one stressy wolf.

I went to the Mentoring session, and it was ok, not what I expected, which I think is a good thing. I was sooooo nervous, but all I really had to do was talk about how hard I found last term, within the context of university, nothing else. Phew. Going again this Wednesday, expecting (hoping) for practical advice on how best to tackle this 20,000 word dissertation, which I'm still dreading.

I've signed up for counselling too, which I can honestly say I am terrified about. I mean, I think it's about time I got some - counselling, not... anyway - but I'm freaking out. How much do I say about, well, anything? I know I don't have to say anything at all, but it's totally connected, and totally turning me into a raving loon, so if I don't say anything, then surely I'll be limiting how much help the counsellor can offer me, and how much benefit I'm going to get out of it. But, and this why I rarely tell people, what if what I say gets taken way too dramatically, and they think I'm still in danger, which I'm not, for the record, but what if? It would rip my family apart, which is why I haven't told any of them; they'd freak out that I'd dob this person in, and probably tell me that I didn't need any counselling, like they did before, after The Event. I did need it then, I was a mess, but still, mothers know best.

I also, plain and simply, just don't want to worry them, they've got/had enough problems, how can I add to them by raking up the (pretty recent) past? To that end, I've told my mother, who I live with, and who is my main carer, absolutely nada. And, as far as she knows, my first counselling session, at 9am on the 23rd, is a change of seminar time. She could consequently 'kill' my poor innocent lecturer. I am an awful daughter, but what else can I do? I hate lying, though I am scarily very good at it. This is something that I need to do by myself, for myself. With the help of Gloria, of course, who I owe so much too; note-taker, friend, adviser, confidant, counsellor, alibi, partner-in-crime, provider of much chocolate etc. I feel just as bad for having to get her to lie for me too, though I guess she wouldn't do it if she wasn't such a loyal pal, and for that I am forever grateful.

I guess if, like me, your life involves being totally dependent on others, the only way to achieve any form of independence is to depend even more heavily on those you trust most; in my case, friends.

BW xxx

So Far, So Good

2011-01-25T13:35:00.001+00:00

The catchphrase of one of my fave lecturers and, I think, very appropriate to sum up how things are going.

Got through Week One of Term Two fairly unscathed. I mean, there was the small matter of one of my seminars being timetabled in a completely stupid, difficult to get to room; in a building miles from anywhere. But, aforementioned lecturer, Sing, who must have actual magical powers, only went and got the seminar moved to the perfect spot. I know all this sounds really trivial and, frankly, boring, but when you're in a wheelchair, or in fact have any form of mobility issue, this kinda stuff is Really Important. It's all very well to say that timetabling is done by computer, and that the room is accessible, so that's all right then. But it's not actually, thanks; one still has to get to the room, trekking miles across a hilly campus, going out of your way to avoid all the numerous building works. In The Rain. Some people just don't get it, and computers certainly don't; when I found out that a bit of software was responsible for my timetable, I knew I was screwed.

Big it up for Dr Sing though, Man Is A Legend - though, not The Legend. He's amazing is Sing, not only are his sessios just so brilliant, and informative, and clear - you'd think all these would be givens at MA-level; you'd be wrong - but he is just So Darned Nice! Though, not in the way that South is So Darned Nice, you get me?! Example: Sing knows I'm only on campus on days that I have seminars/lectures, which means I have a limited time to borrow required DVDs from the campus library, watch them at home, and then return then, all whilst trying to avoid hefty fines, and disapproving looks. Sing also knows how bloody crap (my words, not his, don't think I've ever heard him swear actually...) the library is at keeping their shelves stocked. They either only have one copy of each film which, for a group of eight Film Post-grads with no scheduled screenings, is completely stupid, or they have Region One DVDS, which is fine, except we live in the UK. So what does Sing do? Offers to lend me his copies of all of the required films, two weeks in advance of each seminar, so that I have plenty of time to watch and return them. Brilliant, it really is the little things that make a big difference... isn't that from a TV ad??

Maybe I should've titled this post 'Ode to Sing', but it is all about me (!) and, so far, I am good. Have only got through the first week, and I do have my first 'mentoring' (counselling) session tomorrow, which I'm a teensy bit nervous about. Never had 'therapy' before, though I'm sure I should've done. Several times. Thus I've no idea what to expect. Do counsellors really use the much-clichéd 'and how does that make you feel?'? Dunno, but I guess I'll find out tomorrow. Will let you know.

Seriously, I am a bit worried. Been feeling so much more positive, and calm at the moment, what if talking brings it (whatever 'it' is) all back to the surface? I feel I want to talk, and I'm ready, else I'd totally be bailing out, yet I worry that dragging up all those bad feelings will start me off again; I haven't cried for siz weeks tomorrow! Not a monumental record I know, but for someone who spent their entire last three weeks of term either in tears or on the verge, and who cries at everything anyway, it's pretty good going. Apart from anything else, I've got a seminar straight after, and don't want to turn up for that a gibbering, snotty mess.

I worry that if I let go, I'll fall apart.

BW xxx

From Little Tom Hardy, to Big Bane

2011-01-20T16:53:00.002+00:00

Had to laugh, just read this article by Lacy Bryant regarding the awesome news that Tom Hardy will be Bane, in the next Batman film. She describes Hardy as 'the little Inception guy', WTF? How can you possibly describe Hardy as 'little'?? No part of that man is little - or so I've heard! - but honestly, LITTLE?? Has she seen him? With Her Eyes?! Rant over with, I'm sure he'll be brilliant. I know nothing of this Bane character, but from what I've just quickly skim-read (from Wikipedia - don't try that at home kids, it'll rot your brain), and glimpsed on Google Images; Perfect Casting! He's a buff (check), master-minded supervillain, with some rather deep-rooted issues. So Hardy's quietly brooding intensity should do just the trick then. That, and the fact he's Drop Dead Gorgeous. LITTLE??

BW xxx

22/01/2011

I've just been back to the above offending article to see if my comment was published; it wasn't. Obviously Ms Bryant didn't like what I had to say, which was basically the same as I've said here. Some people just can't handle the truth. Freedom of speech? My hairy wolf's ar-

MA Part II: Return of The Wolf

2011-01-18T11:29:00.001+00:00

Back to school again tomorrow, not sure how I feel... On the one hand, hello freedom and independence (albeit briefly) from the ever-loving, ever-nagging parents. On the other hand, oh bloody hell do I really have to go through all that again?

Term 1 was, quite simply, Hell. I hated it, and it hated me. So much so, that when I saw my dear friend and PA, Gloria, last week, she said how 'rested' I looked, which was nice, till I realised this probably meant I looked totally shocking by the end of last term. To be fair, I felt totally shocking.

Ho hum, they all tell me this term's gonna feel easier, what with there only being one and a half modules compared to Term One's two and a half . It can't posibly feel any worse, can it?? As my mother always says: 'we'll see', which generally means no, so going by that logic, maybe Term Two won't be such a breeze. Still, I signed up for it, and there are now only 11 weeks between me and what will be my last ever seminar - I'm soooo Not doing a PhD. I came to that scary realisation last night; I mean I'll still have the small matter of a 20,000 word dissertation to deal with, but once (if) I've got that done (September 12th), then what the hell do I do? Get a job I suppose, Oh My God.

BW xxx

PS, woke up with John Murphy's In a Hearbeat - from the 28 Days Later (Boyle, 2002) soundtrack - in my head today. Considering I've not seen the film for a fair while, and am thinking a lot about Uni, it doesn't bode well that my subconscious has chosen a piece of music that signifies the Apocalypse. Either that, or the End really is nigh...