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5 min read

Disney: 100 years of waiting for Prince Charming

Reflecting on the Disney centenary, Lauren Windle finds herself dis-enchanted with Prince Charming and reflecting on what might be a better kind of attraction.

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

A plastic wind-up Snow White toy stands to the right of the photo, with hands clasped waiting
Photo by King Lip on Unsplash.

Picture the scene: you’re outside running an errand; maybe you’re taking the bins out or cleaning your car in the street. The sun is blazing and you’re in a great mood. Bolstered by the good weather, you start to sing to yourself. Maybe you’ve got Spotify on or the car radio’s playing. Just as you’re getting your groove on to Gaga, someone comes up behind you, about a foot away and joins in with the song . . . Startled, you stop singing and swing round to see the other half of your unsolicited duet.  

The other person also stops and says: ‘Hello, did I frighten you?’ Clearly concerned, you back away towards your house. The person continues: ‘Wait, wait, please don’t run away.’ As you dash through the front door and slam it behind you, you hear your uninvited singing partner pick up the song where the two of you left off in an attempt to serenade you as you flee. 

They never made a Snow White 2. Maybe that’s because watching the slow and agonizing breakdown of a relationship that was entered into prematurely isn’t very ‘Disney’. 

Menacing, right? No one’s stopping to swap numbers with the creepy crooner. Except this is the exact interaction between Snow White and Prince Charming in the Disney film (1937). Word for word. I sat through it to check. Did she call the police? Was she embarrassed and uncomfortable with his invasion of her personal space? Did she drop a message to the other princesses to tell them to watch out for the crackpot future king? None of the above. The next time we hear her speak about the prince, Snow White is talking to the seven dwarfs and explaining that she’s ‘in love with him’, he’s ‘the only one’ for her and ‘there’s nobody like him anywhere at all’. Those are actual quotes.  

When the prince and Snow White are finally reunited, she is woken from her unconsciousness by his kiss and he leads her away, wordlessly, into the sunset. In the whole film Snow White doesn’t say a word directly to the prince. 

They never made a Snow White 2. Maybe that’s because watching the slow and agonizing breakdown of a relationship that was entered into prematurely isn’t very ‘Disney’. I, for one, would pay to watch as Snow White grows to realize that marrying someone who looms up on young women and breaks into song isn’t all it’s cracked up to be; and as the prince gets fed up with all the woodland creatures leaving their droppings as they traipse through the house to help with all the various daily chores. 

Now this is key so listen up: there is no ‘the one’ and you do not have a ‘soulmate’. 

The relationships we saw as children to model our hopes and dreams on were fundamentally flawed and Disney was at the heart of what I will be calling from here on in ‘The Great Deception’. In our treasured childhood films feelings of love didn’t grow from a deep and mutual understanding of who the other was. It was an encounter that sparked love at first sight, followed by some questionable courtship practices. It’s a sinister day in the magical kingdom when you realise Belle was a hostage with Stockholm syndrome; Ariel changed her species and gave up her voice in order to gain favour with the prince; and Sleeping Beauty was given a non-consensual kiss while unconscious. 

We know all these are fairy stories, but the material we surround ourselves with has a tendency to stick, no matter how impervious we believe ourselves to be. Somewhere between Cinderella’s pre-midnight Waltz and Aladdin and Jasmine’s market stall encounter we fell for the idea that instant attraction is preferable to that which builds and develops more slowly over a longer period of time. The reality is that some of the best, most fulfilling relationships don’t kick off with irrepressible feelings of chemistry. In some cases, that chemistry wanes over time and in others it develops with greater engagement. 

That said, those of us who are conscious that a pretty face or a banging body aren’t all they’re cracked up to be when contributing to a lifetime-length relationship, do forget that attraction is still important. The best depiction of a healthy attraction I’ve heard is Will van der Hart’s on The Dating Course. He compares a relationship to a church candle – one of those fat pillar ones. The attraction is the wick; you need it to get the thing going. But if you’re all wick, you’ll burn out quickly. The wax is the substance, the friendship, the deeper understanding of each other, the experiences you share. But if you’re all wax, you can’t get the flame going. However, if you have both, you’ve got a candle that will burn brightly and for a long time. 

Another glug of Kool-Aid that Snow White had guzzled down was this idea of ‘the one’. Now this is key so listen up: there is no ‘the one’ and you do not have a ‘soulmate’. Neither of those things exist. Mr/Mrs Right is not out there. Get on with your life. 

The entertainment conglomerate has done its best in recent years to repent for the generations of young girls with unrealistic romantic expectations. 

Back in the ancient days of Athens, Plato shared some questionable insight into the origin of humans. Turns out, way back when, people had four legs, four arms and a head with two faces. Zeus, despite being king of the gods, was afraid of what these eight-appendaged, double-faced people could do, so he split them down the middle. Humans, now incomplete, walked the earth pining for their other half, throwing their arms around each other and intertwining their bodies in an attempt to grow together. In summary, the idea of a missing person to complete you is not founded on any scientific or biblical truth. It’s misinformation from Plato and Jerry Maguire. It is not a great premise to build your life and expectations on. It’s a waste of time. 

What someone should have told Walt was that there are a number of people Snow White would meet in her life who would be a suitable marriage partner for her. She would have a different but fulfilling life with each. A person would become ‘the one’ when she chose to commit to them, because she would be making a promise to them to eliminate all others from the equation. Leaving just one. 

The entertainment conglomerate has done its best in recent years to repent for the generations of young girls with unrealistic romantic expectations. They’ve produced a slew of powerful and sassy women, out for adventure with no love interest in sight; see Moana and Raya and the Last Dragon. But for myself and my millennial peers, the stage has already been set. If he doesn’t rock up on a valiant steed, quite frankly, we’re not interested. 

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6 min read

Letter from Istanbul: how many neighbours is it possible to love?

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the sheer mass of humanity in Turkey

Becky is a a writer living in Istanbul.

An Istanbul street curves and the sun illuminates one side
An Istanbul street.
Drew McKechnie on Unsplash.

 

Living in the megalopolis that is Istanbul in Türkiye, as the country is now calls itself*, is both wonderful and utterly overstimulating. As the sun dawns earlier in the summer months, I often ponder on what woke me up as I sip my morning coffee. Was it the Call to Prayer from our neighbourhood mosque; the caterwauling cats; fighting crows; howling dogs or squawking seagulls?

Istanbul (formerly known as Constantinople) is where East meets West, and home to up to 20 million people. It's the only city in the world to straddle both Asia and Europe, separated by the narrow Bosphorus sea, which you can cross by ferry in 20 minutes. 

Known in the Bible as 'Asia Minor,' Türkiye boasts a wealth of Christian history and numerous religious sites, including the breathtakingly preserved ancient city of Ephesus.

Once the largest Christian cathedral in the world, the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul’s historic quarter Sultanahmet attracts millions of tourists to its grand Byzantine architecture every year, as both a mosque and a museum. 

Istanbul's gastronomy is among the best in the world. The food, paired with the melting pot of history, faith, and culture, also makes for the warmest sense of hospitality in the world to visitors and newcomers that you could ever imagine. It is a stark contrast to what I was used to in the UK. 

Turkish hospitality is about way more than tulip-shaped glasses of tea and aubergine köfte kebabs; in Turkish culture, a guest is honoured, making them feel as if they belong. From the drawn out etiquette of home visits to literal fights breaking out when it's time to pay the bill, in Türkiye, a guest is seen as a 'gift from God.'

Speaking of hospitality, Türkiye's official population is indeed an estimate due to the constant stream of refugees that pour into the country and settle in Istanbul, hoping to build new, better lives for themselves.

It is a hugely built-up city, with each skyscraper competing for height and a Bosphorus sea view; here and there, you can spy small little houses called gecekondus (which means 'put up at night'). These are the (illegal) homes of newcomers. 

Türkiye is, on the whole, proud of its migration history (and its 2016 agreement with the UN). Of course, it's a country in a prime position to grant refuge to displaced people in neighbouring nations and as a transit country for people trying to emigrate west, and is home to the world's largest refugee population (3.2 million Syrians and up to 222,000 other nationalities). The latest refugees to seek sanctuary in the four thousand year old city are more Iranians. I enjoy friendships with Turkish, Persian, and Syrian friends in my faith community. 

Of course, attitudes vary regarding the many 'neighbours' who make their home in Istanbul. There are complaints that 'enough is enough.' There is a 'Türkiye first' rhetoric that permeates the Caffe Nero I sometimes work in.  (Eye-rolling and body language speak louder than words when the barista is short with a burka-wearing, stroller-pushing mum speaking Arabic. 

And I do get it. 'Istanbul is overcrowded' is a massive understatement. You can't even begin to compare it to the UK immigration rhetoric. 

Behind most discrimination is fear, and secular locals worry that so many refugees in Türkiye could lead to a different religious landscape one day.

I, too, am a guest here in Türkiye, and I am grateful I've been able to make it my home. I'm reminded that every person is worthy of love and respect no matter where they are from. 

Of course world events significantly impact attitudes towards refugees in Istanbul. Sadly, it's a fact that events around the world can shape people's discourse regarding certain people groups. I find it hard to switch off from what's going on around the world, and since Israel bombed Iran last two weeks ago, I've been glued to the news. 

My hairdresser is an Iranian girl who has a residence permit due to her husband's job in hospitality. I asked her how she was doing. She said she's scared for her mum and sister, who are in a city that's being bombed, and she wants to bring them to Türkiye. She said the scariest thing about it all is that all flights are grounded right now, and the internet is inconsistent; they feel utterly helpless. All I can do is hug her and tell her all life is precious to God, and that I am praying for peace.

A week later, I woke up to the news that the USA had struck Iran, with the intention of destroying three of its nuclear facilities. The world waits and watches with bated breath to see what will happen next.

I don’t have the answers for overcrowding or immigration policies, but when I reflect on 'who is my neighbour' I know it is whoever I find standing in front me.

 

Many in Istanbul do ask 'who is my neighbour? It is a question that has been asked for millenia, most famously by Jesus.

Jesus replied with a powerful story that would have pushed the buttons of all those gathered around on issues of race, religion, and hospitality, which became one of his most famous parables. In 'The Good Samaritan,' a traveller and a Jew are brutally attacked and robbed when he's walking from Jerusalem to Jericho. Beaten, bloody, and left for dead on the side of the road, a priest passes by, but instead of helping, he ignores the man and continues his journey.

Next, a Levite who also worked in the Jewish temple comes along the road, crosses to the other side, and walks away.

Finally, a man from Samaria (sworn enemies of the Jews) passes along the road, sees the injured man, and stops. He stops, tends to his wounds, puts the man on his donkey, and takes him to an inn to recover, covering all the expenses from his pocket.

You can imagine the sound of a pin dropping when Jesus asks which of these three was a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers: 'The expert in the law replied, 'The one who had mercy on him.' Jesus told him, ‘Go and do likewise.’

The message is simple- our 'neighbours' are all the people we come across. It's those different from us and even those with whom our ethnicity and national history demand we make enemies. 

As a white woman with a British passport, I am privileged. I can return to the UK when I choose. People don’t wince if they hear me speak English in Caffe Nero. As a resident in Istanbul, I navigate the attitudes and ever-shifting narratives towards immigration in Türkiye by prayer. 

I want to hold space for my Turkish friends who feel scared and frustrated.

I want to be a voice of peace to my friend who sends me a video of missiles heading for Iran over the border from Hatay, Türkiye. 

Living in Türkiye as a woman of faith has changed me, and I can't help but think that if we all adopted the Turkish philosophy of hospitality, which views all guests as gifts from God, deserving to feel like they belong, the world could be a different place.

I don’t have the answers for overcrowding or immigration policies, but when I reflect on 'who is my neighbour' I know it is whoever I find standing in front me, no matter where they come from. I ask for the strength to 'love my neighbor as myself' no matter the country on their ID card (or despite their lack of one). And when I feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of precious human lives arriving in Türkiye every day, I remember that each of them is also a neighbour - and my job is to care for the one in front of me.


* Türkiye is the new spelling of the country’s name. Find out more