Maisy: Oh! Ariel! Why must I look so…human?
Ariel: Because you are human, Maisy. Do not fear, for I will become human and walk with you. On my feet! AHHHH AHHH OW OW OW….There. Here I am with feet.
Maisy: Wonderful, and look, our princes are coming. *Two Prince Eric figures appear on the beach* Oh wait, I just noticed. My prince looks JUST LIKE YOURS.
Ariel: That’s okay.
Random Identical Prince Eric: I have something to tell you, honeycakes. I just want to say, oh honeycakes. We both of us princes, we all just want to say… *bursts into song* FELIZ NAVIDAD! FELIZ NAVIDAD!
The song choice is not surprising. When the actual Prince Eric whom Maisy will marry finally appears (many MANY years from now, say, after college, please Lord and Amen), he is bound to be some flavor of Latino. She informed me of this, quite loudly, in fact, in Target, while picking out the latest in her series of olive skinned, glossy black haired and dark eyed dollies.“I picked this one because I want it to look like my REAL babies will look. It’s like how me and Sam look like you and daddy put together. And I am going to marry a Mexico boy, and he will be a MUCH BROWNER boy than me. I don’t like pale skin as much. I like BROWN boys. MY babies will be BROWNER THAN ME BUT NOT AS BROWN AS HIM,” she trumpeted in her high, carrying voice.
I immediately felt SUFFUSED with that inexplicable middle class white American girl guilt, like, wondering if I was somehow raising my child to be a singular reverse racist? Is there such a thing? Is it wrong that at age eight she has pre-rejected white, black and Asian suitors? And if there IS such a thing and singular reverse racism, must
my 8 year old come out as one at top volume in the Hiram Super Target?
Considering this is the child who, at the tender age of two, pioneered Quasi-reverse gay bashing in the Walmart, I suppose this was inevitable…