How Sweet is This?

From Stockholm, Sweden - July 8, 2009

Human Nature: Learning from the "Michael Jackson Cacophony"

Cacophony. That is what the late great James Baldwin, who died 22 years before Michael Jackson's own passing, called the height of Michael Jackson's popularity during his Thriller days. Specifically, Baldwin stated, "The Michael Jackson cacophony is fascinating in that it is not about Jackson at all. I hope he has the good sense to know it and the good fortune to snatch his life out of the jaws of carnivorous success."

Interesting words from back in 1984. Yet, James Baldwin wasn't so much a prophet as he was a keen observer and wise man with his hand on the racial pulse of America. If anyone understands astutely the national race consciousness of America, it was Baldwin, and what fascinates me more than anything about this quote is how he knew to be cynical in his response to the mainstream acceptance of Michael Jackson long before that same mainstream wave of love turned rancorous. Baldwin died before witnessing MJ's slow transformation from a brown-skinned man into a colorless, wigged out, chiseled faced manikin. Or, the various legal and financial allegations that plagued him, or even the masking of white-appearing children that he claimed as his own, before they were finally revealed to the world yesterday at a moving tribute that, above all, highlighted MJ's humanity as well as his legendary status.

The reason for Baldwin's cynicism is so clearly made manifest in the media hoopla that we faced in the days following Michael Jackson's death. In another reflection piece in the New York Times, What's Driving the Michael Jackson Mania, conservative critic John McWhorter offers, "To black people, the bleaching and chiseling was the tragic self-negating behavior of our wide-nosed boy singer with an Afro, grown up and lost. But whites have opened up to blackness to such an extent that they were often just as dismayed by the surgery. “Cosby” became a runaway hit, Will Smith became Hollywood’s biggest star, hip hop went mainstream, America elected a black president — and Michael died looking like Greta Garbo."

While there may be a kernel of truth in what McWhorter surmises (except I really don't think looking like a "Greta Garbo" is all that horrible), I think it's safe to say that he has neither the keen observation or intelligent measure of America's racial pulse as Brother Baldwin. I myself have not overlooked the fact that, it wasn't until MJ started looking paler that he began to be vilified as a freak, a pervert, a monster, a pale version of the black bogeyman that has accounted for many primal fears in the culture. That is not simply a manifestation of a tragic figure that both black and white Americans gaze upon with pity as they shake their heads. No. The vilification is a visceral reaction to a body that literally transcended the color line, that refused to "know its place," and that served as both aspiration to and critique of whiteness. In short, Michael Jackson offered a performative critique of the "passing for white" narrative, in which our "passing" protagonists often dwell among whites and adopt white culture while simultaneously growing more radical and antiracist in their message. "Passing" figures struggle with race all the time, and I've always found it ironic that it wasn't until he appeared "white" that he started moving away from "Heal the World" / "We Are the World" / "Black or White" messages to accusing SONY of racism or coming up with protest lyrics in "Stranger in Moscow" and "They Don't Really Care About Us" that speak out against isolation, hatred, racism, and imperialism. What can I say? MJ was a complicated man.

So, it's no surprise, really, that when the white-appearing black man started singing explicitly about racism, it was much easier to vilify him as a freak. And, had the white media not started in on him, black America might have joined in too, but we always pause when a black man is perceived as being lynched by a white mob - physically or figuratively. Still, this perceived transgression of race, gender, class, sexuality, etc. through MJ's body has merely contributed to the noise - whether it's the noise of adulatory screams or angry disapproval. And, I would argue as Baldwin does, that the disappproval, like the adulation, is also not about Jackson at all. The black body has often functioned as the Other, fulfilling dominant culture's desires and fears. During the '80s, there was a definite investment in seeing Michael Jackson as an innocent sexless being whose whole existence was to entertain the masses. The '90s - that great demise of our race relations, from Rodney King to the LA riots to OJ Simpson - was no longer invested in black male innocence, so no one was trying to feel MJ's claims of "Neverland" childhood in which he didn't want to grow up. All these little boys at his ranch? Hmmph, the thinking went, ain't nothing innocent going on there; hence, the molestation allegations, which forced him to eventually grow up since eccentric black millionaires should not indulge their fantasies. Not surprisingly, he was forced into adulthood, first through marriage, than later through fatherhood.

But, he was a still a "freak" and later a "monster." Sure, some of these public distortions were of his own making, but I would argue that these distortions were designed to contain the transgressive black body that dared to transcend its racial status. I may be off in my interpretation of his physical transformation as racial subversion, but trust me when I tell you that, if this were merely aspiration to whiteness, something I might add that many Americans work hard at - regardless of their racial background - so why are we angry at MJ's attempts, most of us wouldn't have a problem with his embodied performance. Otherwise, where is the outrage when a Beyonce or Lil' Kim shows up on stage looking like a Barbie Doll? Where's the outrage when any public woman - regardless of race - shows up with fake breasts and hair? Some interesting gender and racial issues are on display here in terms of whose bodies should change and whose shouldn't.

All I know is, when Michael Jackson died on June 25, two days after I swore off the blogosphere and, thus, had to cut my blog break short to share my public grief over a public man in a public outlet, I found that the Michael Jackson cacophony revealed more about who we are, as a collective humanity, than about the man himself. I cried, then was moved by the global outpouring of grief - expressed through vigils and mass moonwalks - then was angered by the shoddy attempts at a tribute by the BET Awards Show, before I finally felt contempt at many of our news networks which did not know basic differences between "news" and "gossip." Unlike certain commenters who felt that we were giving this "freak," this "pervert" too much attention - which was a safer way of saying, "How dare you give any attention to this N----" - my problem with the Michael Jackson noise is that it didn't distinguish between Michael Jackson, the legendary musical entertainer, and the Michael Jackson freak show concoction that had no real bearing on any real "facts," and, yes, I do expect journalists to know the difference. When I attended the Apollo Theater tribute last Tuesday, I encountered black, white, Asians, Latinos/as, and various internationals. I even stood in line with a contingent that drove in from Toronto! That's not the response of people who had come to celebrate the life of a "freak." He provided the soundtrack to our childhood or our entire lives, indeed sacrificed his own childhood so that we could have joy in ours. And boy, did we unleash that joy when we finally got into the Apollo and danced our butts off!

Our musicians are important. No, they don't start revolutions, but they do unite the masses to get that revolution moving.

And when I saw so many from my own generation and older and younger stand still to mark this man's passing, I thought it was a profound moment. I felt like I was part of a global community, and that felt special. However, no sooner was I feeling the global love than Big Media started in on their 24/7 persecution, even in death, of the "strange man" that was Michael Jackson. That's why Al Sharpton had to speak directly to the children, reminding them that their father "wasn't strange, but it was strange what he went through." I hope the words sink in, for I heard some news pundits remark about whether or not it was biologically possible for someone like MJ to father children that looked like them, or whether his children were created in a "lab," or if they would be appropriately cared for by his family. Even if they were not his biologically, what's the big deal since I have yet to hear anyone criticize Steven Spielburg, Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, or Angelina Jolie for raising black children? Poor Blanket looked like he wanted to hide his face from the world, still, and can you blame him when ignorant people abound who think they are just as "freakish"as their father?

This, ladies and gentleman, is what 21st-century racism sounds like (the passive-aggressive kind). I mean, these are the conversations I expect from a Jim Crow segregationist or some 19th-century white imperialist scientist who thinks African people are monkeys. What kind of simple-minded nonsense was I hearing on my TV or on the Internet? And, no, McWhorter, these are not words of a people who "have opened up to blackness." These are words of a people who are still afraid of it, who are still doubtful that we, black people (no matter how pale we appear) are human.

When Michael Jackson's daughter, Paris, spoke at the end of yesterday's memorial and basically owned the show with her simple, heartwrenching words, she exposed to all of us how, beneath the "Michael Jackson cacophony," was a real man with real feelings and real relationships. He was a father, a son, a brother, an uncle, a cousin, a friend, a colleague, and a revered artist. And he will be missed.

He was not a demi-god or a monster. He was a human being. Imagine that.

Or, in the words of his immortal song, "Human Nature," which is by far my favorite MJ song:

If they say why why / tell 'em that it's human nature
why why / does he do me that way
If they say why why / tell 'em that it's human nature /
why why / does he do me that way
I like livin' this way / I like lovin' this way

It's the humanity of Michael Jackson that I'm now just learning to mourn this week. Sometimes we need to listen for the silence in all the noise.

Highlights of the Michael Jackson Memorial Service

Or, rather, the parts that made me cry:

Stevie Wonder, "Never Dreamed You'd Leave in Summer"

The Jacksons bid farewell:



Michael Jackson's daughter, Paris, speaks:

Beyonce's Tribute to MJ

Now, why didn't she do this performance at last Sunday's BET Awards Show?

5 1/2 Hours (and an Hour in the Pouring Rain)

That's what I endured to pay tribute to Michael Jackson at the Apollo Theater in Harlem yesterday.  As a fellow fan said, while we waited all day on line (and at one point in the pouring rain): "I know I wouldn't be standing in no rain for a relative! I hope he appreciates it, wherever he is."

Someone else said: "That's okay 'cause he is family!"

And, it felt like we were family, all of New York turning out for a lost brother.  

Here's my shaky camera work (from all my dancing - ha!) of the event, which I tried to edit down to some highlights:

UPDATE: Some extra footage from same event:

My People, My People

It pains me that, after praising "my people" for their impromptu tributes in the wake of Michael Jackson's passing, a planned "tribute to Michael Jackson," via the BET Awards Show, would not only pale in comparison but actually showcase what a complete travesty "Black Entertainment" has become.

It seems that the tears I shed for Michael Jackson should not just be for the end of his life, or the end of my childhood era, but also for the end of an era of black musical genius of the 20th century - which arguably began with Louis Armstrong, King of Jazz, and now closes with our very own King of Pop.

Considering that I've been pretty emotional since Thursday, I must offer a disclaimer in the way that I respond to last night's BET Awards Show, for I feel as if I'm going through the stages of grief. I already experienced Stage 1 - DENIAL - as soon as Michael Jackson's death was announced; then, Stage 2 - ANGER - came pretty quickly the next day, after suffering through a media onslaught of speculations of MJ's private life, his legal and financial troubles, and his rumored medical condition (keep in mind, we still don't know what killed him yet). Friday night, I was screaming at my TV: LEAVE MICHAEL ALONE! HE'S DEAD! YOU DISGUSTING VULTURES!! HE'S NOT EVEN BURIED YET! WILL YOU NOT STOP TILL YOU PICK HIS BONES DRY??!!

But over the weekend, my anger calmed down, and I thought I was pretty much ready for Stage 3 - BARGAINING - in which I thought Michael, if he were in deep emotional and psychological pain, was finally at peace and his reputation, upon witnessing the global outpouring of well wishes, MJ Saturday night parties and flash mob mass moonwalks from as far away as Paris, Vienna, Sydney, and Beijing, redeemed his legacy.

Then, the BET Awards Show happened and set me right back to Stage 2. And I should have known better. BET is nothing but "Black Embarrassment Television," "Black Exploitation Television," "Buffoonery Entertainment Television." But, when tuning in to CNN, I learned that the BET Awards Show had revamped the event so that they could turn the whole show into a "Tribute to Michael Jackson." Naturally, I thought I should see what "our people" would do for the man's legacy.

Have Mercy!

What the hell did I just watch last night? Was that supposed to be a "tribute"? Bad jokes, ghettoized speak, and Jamie Foxx and Martin Lawrence reprising their most offensive drag-queen, woman-hating performances with their fake movie trailer called Skank Robbers (starring their demeaning altar egos Wanda the Ugly Woman and Sheneneh)?! Beyonce singing "Ave Maria" in lingerie (the sacrilege!) before singing "In the Arms of an Angel" in a ballerina-bride get-up that made her look a fool? And, if that were some "In Memoriam" anthem, why not sing her lovely hit song, "Halo"? I mean, come on!

Ne-Yo did a decent job on "The Lady of My Life," but Ciara sounded weak on "Heal the World," and where oh where was there even a dance tribute to our Lord of the Dance? No Michael Jackson montage, no medley of his greatest hits, nothing! Worse, we get some "hot ghetto mess" of a spoof on John Singleton's Baby Boy that most people, who probably didn't watch that dumb movie, wouldn't understand. Pathetic!

The most egregious offense had to be that new-school crap someone has the audacity to call "hip hop" performed by some youngins', including Drake, Lil' Wayne, and TI or T-Pain or whatever the hell they call themselves. One of them wore a "big ass chain" with the words "Big Ass Chain." I kid you not! And if that weren't bad enough, every other word was bleeped out, and then they brought onto the stage some 12 year old girls dressed up like the "skank robbers" Jamie Foxx and Martin Lawrence already spoofed. Before I could pick my jaw up off the floor, Jamie Foxx then ushered Janet Jackson onto the stage.

Make no mistake about it. Janet looked pissed. I would be too. Her words were gracious, but I wouldn't be surprised if she were thinking: YOU TRIFLING NEGROES! HOW DARE YOU DISGRACE MY BROTHER'S MEMORY LIKE THIS?!

If it had not been for Janet, this "tribute" show would have gone down in flames. But she managed to bring the telecast some grace and, surprisingly, some relief and some sanity. I think we really needed to hear from someone in the family, and who better than Janet, the other well known Jackson, to come out and say, "We're in pain, and we appreciate that you are giving us the love and support." People in the audience, and myself, started crying again, and suddenly the insanity stopped in time for Jamie and Ne-Yo to sing "I'll Be There."

And while the show ended on a positive note, it certainly wasn't enough to remove the stench of buffoonery that we witnessed in the previous three hours. I am appalled that this telecast dared to call itself a "tribute to Michael Jackson." Because, whatever flaws the man suffered off stage, ON STAGE, he was the consummate professional. And he never uttered profanity, he never demeaned women with disgusting lyrics, and he offered us magic. There is no excuse for the "hot ghetto mess" that BET showcased last night. Michael Jackson also came from a ghetto, but through Motown and later on in his adult life, he showed all of us how you can climb from humble beginnings to become a legend.

Not one artist who "graced" last night's stage is worthy enough to step into the King's shoes, and it pains me to think that Michael Jackson died without one potential artist to pass the torch to.

A travesty.

Let's hope other upcoming tributes planned are worthy of his greatness.

Sometimes I Just Love My People

Because, when it comes to our legends, no matter how much we have bickered about his guilt or innocence, or whether or not he was ashamed of his blackness or if he really suffered from a pigmentation disease, no matter what the controversy, we always take it back to the beginning.

And we remember where he came from, and where he first performed, and in death, we reclaim him and welcome him back into the fold, and celebrate him on to his next home.

Despite everything, despite knowing that Michael Jackson is truly a world phenomenon who belongs to the world, he was ours first, and we will remember him always.

This is a shout out to my lovely people who spontaneously gathered in Harlem upon the news of Michael Jackson's death and celebrated a life and the soundtrack to all of our lives:

Michael Jackson Has Passed Away!

I said it would take something major to get me back to posting again, and this one shocked me to the core.

My childhood icon, my first ever superstar, Michael Jackson, died after a cardiac arrest at the age of 50. I'm still crying as I type this. I'm really upset about this! :(

I'm opening up the comments again, if you want to share your thoughts.  

Rest in peace, Michael! 

Update (cause how can I have a Michael Jackson post without Michael Jackson's music?)

Wrap Up: My 500th Post

Just some quick headlines:

• Chris Brown avoids jail time with a 5-month probation, including light work and domestic violence counseling, after entering a guilty plea for assaulting girlfriend and pop R&B singer Rihanna.  Just to place this in a larger context, consider this: back in 2005, rapper Lil' Kim was sentenced to a year and a day in prison, plus three years probation and a $50,000 fine for committing perjury.  Whatever you think of this case, just compare what Lil' Kim received to Chris Brown, after he beat Rihanna to a bloody pulp, threatened to kill her, and abandoned her in the street - all while a bystander called the police after witnessing this violent display.  And we wonder why no one takes domestic violence seriously!
• Neda Soltani has now become the face of Iranian protest, once she was killed last Saturday in the midst of the people's protests against what is believed to be voter fraud in Iran.  Her death was captured on a cell phone, and the image has made its way in the global circuit across the Internet.  On the one hand, her death, now treated as martyrdom, has raised the specter of women's protest in the wake of this unrest.  In case you hadn't noticed, there are numerous women out on the streets.  Interesting, then, that it took Neda's death for the news pundits to start discussing women's rights in Iran, noting that women in Iran have a much higher rate of college graduation than we do here in the U.S.  Neda was a 27-year-old philosophy student.  On the other hand, news pundits are also talking about how digital technology - cell phones, twitter, and You Tube - is fueling this "revolution" and subverting the state, which has sought to cut off all information concerning this uprising.  

Naturally, once news networks like CNN start talking about telecommunications and revolution in the same breath, I start distrusting the whole system.  As Gil Scott Heron once rapped, "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised/ The Revolution Will Be Live."  And as I once blogged, The Revolution Will Not Be Digitized.  Oh, these latest tools of technology may give us the illusion that they hold this power for social change, but really, what are they but tools of consumption? And, like any tool of consumption, it's what you do with them that matters.  Some use these digital communication technologies for porn and verbal violence, others use them to document uprisings and protest.  Whatever these tools are used for, let us always remember: "The master's tools [insert corporate media or Big Brother or Google] will never dismantle the master's house."

I started this blog in 2007, seeking a new space and a new tool to channel my thoughts and hone my writing skills.  In the process, I've been exposed to different new media and new conversations.  Over time, I've even built and participated in a close-knit community that was equally concerned with the ideas and actions that made me "anxious" or curious or angry or excited.  Now that I've reached my 500th post, I have come to a decision that it's time for me to take a pause and move forward.  

I'm getting the research bug, and I'm increasingly growing nostalgic for pen and paper and writing in book form.  Which means the ideas that I've presented here since 2007 I would now like to transfer to the printed page and leave off blogging as an "anxious black woman" for a while.  As much as I've been energized by a community of bloggers, commenters, readers, lurkers, and followers, I'm also now craving to keep thoughts to myself, rather than let the world in on it.  This new mood of mine also comes from an acknowledgment that the Internet is not the same character it was when I started back in 2007.  It is increasingly becoming more and more corporate - which isn't to say it hasn't always been, but seriously, when blogs start looking more and more indistinguishable from corporate websites, replete with advertisements, it's time for me to reassess this new environment.

The revolution will not be digitized

                                        will not be digitized

will not be digitized

The revolution will be live...

The more Big Media proclaims the "death" of the printed form (newspapers, books, magazines, etc.) and the inevitable reign of digital culture (even our TV sets have become digitized), the more I feel our print culture needs saving.  I'm the first to embrace digital culture, I'm the first to teach new media to my students, but there's keeping up with new technology and then letting it take over our lives and our cultures.  

So, with this 500th post, I just want to announce that I won't be blogging as Anxious Black Woman anymore, or at least not for some time.  Who knows if some big dramatic event or issue emerges a month from now or a year, which compels me to come back here and revive this site?  But, I didn't want to just stop posting and have others wonder what happened to me.  I've seen those sudden disruptions - bloggers like Professor Black Woman shutting down her blog, or Shecodes over at Black Women Vote! not updating since Election Day last year.  And who knows whatever became of Riverbend at Baghdad Burning: Girl Blog in Iraq?  

The truth is, I want to debrief and rethink my blogging experience, which requires that I take a break.  This doesn't mean that I won't be lurking or even participating in the blogosphere elsewhere.  But, I'm just quietly closing this digital diary for now.  I won't be shutting down this blog.  I believe in history (you all know that) and in keeping a record of things.  I'll keep comments on moderation and allow my 500 posts to be accessed (and I respectfully request that any citing you do from my writings is provided with a link or that you use my citation guidelines, included in my side bar).  When you think about it, 500 posts is the equivalent of a hardcover book, maybe even two volumes.  This is very much a publication, and I leave my work here for your perusal.  

Thank you all for reading, for following, and for dialoging! :)

Peace and blessings,

ABW

"Where is My Vote" poster by Harrystaab.

From Chamber Maid to Princess: The Story is Always More Complicated

I've been meaning for quite some time to offer a response to Monique Fields' article, Enough With Princesses!, in which she rightly criticizes the heteronormative gender hierarchy that encourages little girls to fantasize about becoming "princesses" - courtesy of Disney mega-corporate dreaming. Specifically, Fields argues, the issue is this hegemonic gender role and not that Disney is targeting African American consumers in a new marketing ploy to sell the latest toys, video games, and fashions that tie in to their upcoming animated movie, The Princess and the Frog, featuring the first African American princess. I wish it were only about gender and that we could just excoriate these animation features (see, for example, this criticism of Pixar's gender limitations) in their failure to envision something different for women and girls. But, if you've been reading my blog, you know that gender cannot be separated from the intersections of race, class, sexuality, nationality, etc.

The problem is not just about "princesses." The problem is also cultural - what does it mean this story pertaining to African Americans is based on a British fairy tale vs., say, an Angolan folk tale that also features a frog (here, the frog gets the princess without having to turn into a handsome prince; hence the moral of the story is not for a woman to overlook appearances but to accept the one who will labor the hardest for her love)? Beyond the "source" fairy tale used to create this story is the historical fiction developed to ground this fantasy in "reality." Thus, we don't get a setting in a "land far far away" - could be Timbuktu or some make-believe country on the make-believe continent of Atlantis for all we care - but instead, we get a setting in a very familiar land called the United States of America, in 1920s New Orleans to be specific. Really? Our first African American princess and she's supposed to be living in the deepest of the Deep South, at the height of Jim Crow segregation, severe poverty, and lynchings? I mean, Post-Katrina New Orleans ain't got nothing on 1920s New Orleans! Oh, but of course! This is the musical setting for the birth of jazz. Black music must drive the story, mustn't it? Okay, I can get with that.

No wonder, then, that this "fantasy" is based in "reality" (for all Disney princess stories are intended to have this fantasy in place, considering that, as an American culture based in democracy, we're not trying to feel any aristocratic elitism in nations where monarchs rule and where princes even have their worth for intended princesses: if he's heir to the throne, she too might rule as queen one day and thus "share" in this absolute power. That's the reality vs. the "fantasy" of just wanting to dress up and be treated as if one were a "princess," correct?). However, this first African American princess is first realized as a chambermaid by the name of Maddie. While I understand the criticism of this premise, which led to a rewrite in which our protagonist is then changed into a waitress by the name of Tiana who aspires to own her own restaurant (again, "reality" intrudes on the story for me to say, in 1920s New Orleans? Really?), I also think there is room for subversion in imagining a chambermaid who becomes a princess. Think Cinderella. So, the problem is not just about "princesses." The problem is about socioeconomic status.

Then, there is 1920s New Orleans, which must seem to the filmmakers to be as mystical as any faraway kingdom in some faraway land because the music puts us in that mindset, but how does one realistically address the racial issues here? Apparently, we won't get those issues addressed because most of the drama will take place with Tiana, our first African American princess, as a frog. That's right! As my mom exclaimed, while lapsing into her West Indian dialect, when I first broke the story to her: "You mean to tell me we get our first black princess, and they turn her into a crapeau?!" (That's patois for "frog," for those of you needing a translation.) Which, of course, means the problem is not just "princesses." It is and always will be a racial one.

Here's the premise, from what I've gathered. Tiana, growing up in New Orleans in a family of servants, has ambitions to have her own restaurant. In this enchanting city, Prince Naveen of some indistinct foreign country travels to New Orleans for the jazz. For whatever his transgressions, he is turned into a frog by an evil voodoo priest (oh yes, because New Orleans voodoo must be associated with sinister "black magic," mustn't it?). Realizing that he needs to be kissed by a princess to be turned back into human form, he mistakes Tiana for one, who is dressed up as a princess for Mardi Gras, and convinces her to kiss him so that he could become Prince Charming. They do, and Tiana is the one who transforms by becoming a frog. (So, is Tiana being punished here for daring to pretend she is of a higher status than she really is? i.e. - there goes that "uppity negro.") The two then spend much of the movie in the Louisiana bayou, where they encounter those typical cuddly animals, like a firefly with missing teeth (didn't know fireflies had teeth) and an ambitious alligator by the name of Louie who plays a mean trumpet. Sounds familiar?

Think "King Louie" from The Jungle Book:


Uh-huh, and yes, I absolutely love that scene from The Jungle Book ("I'm gooooone, Man, solid gone!") since that song is definitely one of my favorite Disney tunes ever, despite the racialization of monkeys (let's not pretend we don't see the association), so I can imagine how much fun this new movie could be if they've got a really tight soundtrack, but I can't help but feel the animalization of the story is about both racial avoidance AND racial familiarity. I'm sure there will be cute and cool moments like this one too.

Yet, not all of Disney's racializations are amusing: think the wild Indians in Peter Pan, which are hand-drawn in the most mean-spirited depictions, or the inclusion of that Topsy "pickaninny" servant in the now banned scene from Fantasia. Not only were these uglified stereotypes created as stock characters in Disney movies, but their opposites - the beautifully drawn white characters - were deliberately presented as a contrast of superiority. Perhaps this is why the movie has already received criticism when it appeared that Prince Naveen was not black like Tiana. And, once again, it appears the filmmakers tried to appease the critics by darkening his skin tone; however, there is no denying his Europeanized features or, for that matter (whether he is "black" or not) the history of colorism that has plagued African Americans - especially in New Orleans - in which black men and women have learned to value lighter skin in a potential partner. Nor does it help matters that Prince Naveen, as handsome Prince Charming, is lighter than the evil villain, Facilier, our black voodoo priest.

For me, however, I don't have a problem with Prince Naveen not being black. In light of our racial history, where interracial unions were prohibited by law (but exploited in the night), this again would have served as a moment of racial subversion had the filmmakers imagined that a white Prince could have married a black chambermaid/waitress. Had they the courage to pursue such a story, then the villain could not be some black voodoo priest but some no good white segregationist powerful member of the Ku Klux Klan with their own secret magic powers to turn said prince into a frog. But, we can't have such a story, can we? It would mean having to deal with racial injustice, which would necessarily have to be challenged in order to imagine our Prince and Princess together. Instead, we turn them into frogs and have them spend time in the bayou before some good magical black woman makes them human again.

There are, however, moments of positive gender roles, it seems. First, there is Tiana with her own goals and ambitions. And, as a frog, Tiana is the one who apparently comes to the rescue of our frog prince since she's a scrappy young thing not unused to hard life and struggles. But then again, aren't black women always conceptualized as tough fighters who come to the rescue of their men? We certainly don't get to be dainty damsels in distress. Beyond that, as I already mentioned, there is a good, wise, and powerful voodoo woman, Mama Odie (Pictured here: could she be more stereotypical? And, did they have to make her unrecognizably human?) to counter the evil Facilier. Still, from what we know of the story, they could either make it work into something fun and enchanting and not too offensive, or they could ruin it by being completely over-the-top in their offensiveness.

I don't want to be one of those critics making pointed observations that force filmmakers to make changes just to avoid being offensive or, worse, to try to be as "politically correct" as possible. I much prefer those who are "politically astute" in these things. To me, you either stand by what you've created, or you don't bother at all. At the same time, however, despite the gender, race, class, and cultural problems of these "princess" stories, there is something to be said about Disney's history, which began with Snow White and now heralds a new era of Princess Tiana. It's great that we can now imagine a Disney animation feature starring a black princess. But now that this story is in existence, what about giving us - whether it's Disney or Pixar or Dreamworks -a powerful black woman, who doesn't have to be turned into a frog before she finds her prince? What about giving us a Queen Njinga from Angola, who fought off the Portuguese as they tried to enslave her people? Better yet, give us an African American story rooted here, starring an animated Harriet Tubman who knows how to fly (like in so many of the children's stories about her), kick butt, and lead a people to freedom?

The problem with that last scenario is Disney would force Harriet Tubman to have an army of talking and singing forest animals, maybe even a cuddly North Star to talk to in the night. Maybe that story needs to be an epic action drama instead.

Do we have enough women and people of color in Hollywood who can conceptualize these stories? Because the ones already working in the industry definitely need our guidance.