Today’s blog post is by J. Deschene, an actress, singer, and director in greater Boston. Her current project is a modernized version of Patience, or, Bunthorne’s Bride with the MIT Gillbert & Sullivan Players.



How The Little Mermaid Changed My Life

Say what you want about Disney as a company. They’ve certainly made a lot of iffy decisions over the years, but it can’t be denied that most of us grew up watching and loving their movies. For folks as old (or as young) as I am, The Little Mermaid may well have been the first movie we ever saw and, for many of us, the first we ever loved. The story of a young mermaid who gives up her tail to become human was already an established classic by 1989, when the film was released. Retelling after retelling of the Hans Christian Andersen tale has thrilled audience for a century. Naturally, it was no surprise that a new version from the company that produced dreams and wonders should completely capture its young viewers and remain a favorite for decades to follow. Looking back as an adult, I can see now that I was affected by the film on more than just the “Disney level.” I have to give it credit for doing nothing less than opening my eyes to my own truth, even if I wouldn’t have the proper words or knowledge to describe what I was feeling for several years to come. Basically, The Little Mermaid helped me realize I was trans.



In the mid-1980’s, I was born male into a working class family of European descent. Many of the people reading this will understand exactly what this means and require no further explanation. For those who didn’t experience this kind of upbringing, let me explain: I was raised in a very simple way, by very simple people. This does not mean that they were stupid—many of my family members are very intelligent—but there was and still is a definite tendency among them to see things in very black and white terms. For example, people with male parts were male, and nothing else. Males behaved and led their lives in a certain way, engaging in very specific kinds of activities. They liked superheroes, played sports, were responsible for taking care of and protecting women, grew up, got jobs, became daddies and provided for their families. From a very early point, it was clear to me, and to my often confused parents, that I had no interest in any of what this prescribed male life had to offer. As such, the stage was set and I was primed and ready for a story like The Little Mermaid to enter my consciousness and change my life.



First, from the second I saw Ariel, I wanted to be her. Again, say what you want about Disney. Their sexism track record certainly has some major blemishes, but in my young eyes, everything Ariel was I wanted to be. I remember wishing I had her hair. Girls were allowed to have long hair and you can bet I was jealous. I imagined what it would be like to recreate that glorious and now famous moment wherein she emerges from the water and tosses her head back. Thinking back, this may well be the reason I delight so much in tossing it even now. It wasn’t just hair, though. Her singing voice also charmed me. Men had deep and rough voices, like my uncles, I thought. Ariel’s singing and speaking voice were high, light, and sweet. I can remember mimicking the runs she sang as Ursula took her voice and being irritated when I couldn’t match the notes exactly. Perhaps most telling, however, was my desire to interest men the way Ariel did. Even at that young age, I found men to be more aesthetically pleasing them women. The idea of growing up and being like my father or my uncles filled me with dread, but I would have happily and gratefully been swept off my feet by a handsome prince. I’m well aware that sexual identity and orientation are not necessarily linked, but this was an important early realization for me to make. If I hadn’t realized this about myself, I may not have figured out the rest of my own story.



On a deeper level than these things, however, the theme of transformation in the film must have spoken to me as well. The Little Mermaid, in many ways, is a near-perfect analog of the trans experience. A young person realizes suddenly one day that they don’t have the necessary equipment to exist in the world the way they want to. This prompts them to embark on the path to changing that: a path which often involves steps that seem drastic, unhealthy, and frightening to others. Something inside me was drawn to these ideas, even at a very young age. I realized I had a vague sense that what I was wasn’t “right,” or at least it wasn’t right for me. Pretending became an outlet for me. I got much more enjoyment out of playtime when my friends would allow me to take on a female role in whatever we were doing. I learned quickly to keep this a secret from the adults in my life—another thing for which I give the film credit. That scene in which King Triton rages against Ariel was way too familiar for me. As time went on, I would find myself returning to the story over and over. Each step in my journey could be connected to a different piece of the Little Mermaid’s quest for humanity. Be it the Disney film or other forms the story has taken, it’s become a source of encouragement for me and a reminder of what’s at stake. I am transforming to try and fit into the world. I am also transforming so that I may live the life that carries the greatest sense of meaning for me. I have been extremely lucky to have The Little Mermaid in my life from such an early age. Without it, I might not be who I am now. My upbringing on its own would never have encouraged the kind of growth I’ve experienced. I was drawn in by the pretty character I wanted to be, and I stayed because of something much deeper than that. As such, I feel like I can only be thankful that Disney chose that moment in time to retell such a powerful tale.

Tales of a Fourth Grade Lesbo is directed by Mariagrazia LaFauci and will be performed March 11 - 26, 2016 at the Arsenal Center for the Arts Black Box Theater in Watertown, Massachusetts.



Tickets – Info – Flat Earth Theatre – Gina Young