In fact it scares us.” The House of Representatives voted last month to overthrow rules restricting gun sales to the mentally ill. Fostering understanding has been our goal in the hope that our children will never join the angry mob, singing “We don’t like what we don’t understand. All of these understandings are the basis of our parenting. We talk about how Daddy has peach skin with lots of freckles, that Mommy’s skin is tan, and Opa’s is brown. They know what a hijab is and why some women wear it. They know that some of our neighbors and friends speak more than one language and have lived in different countries. They understand that some boys have vaginas and some girls have penises. Our children understand that a family can have one mommy or none, one daddy or two. My husband and I try to approach social issues in a developmentally appropriate way. Why was I warned about ‘the gays’ as a child, but nobody warned me about the gun? Why is it that trans students cannot use their appropriate gender bathroom, but their bullies – students and professionals alike – can walk into those same bathrooms with loaded guns and kill them? Why is it that the supposed biggest threat to my safety is someone assigned the wrong gender at birth and not the person in the next stall, her gender correctly assigned, concealing a loaded weapon in her pants? My oldest child is four, my youngest, two. Before his end, in a moment that echoes the original film, the Beast releases Gaston, demonstrating his assertion: “I am not a Beast.” And while I waited for a knife to be drawn, Gaston shot him again. While one can argue that Gaston was, in fact, hunting a beast, by that point in the movie the viewer recognizes the Beast as a man. My husband and I have taught our children that guns are for hunting. Again, I naïvely assumed the weapon of choice would follow the original. I explained the ensuing fighting, processing the scene for her, preparing us both for the Beast’s death. My narration had fallen flat after “Gaston used a gun to hurt the Beast,” and my daughter waited to hear what happened next. As Belle grappled with Gaston and the gun fell into the snow, I tried to allow myself to pay attention to the movie again. I remembered that I live in a country where countless men are emboldened by the power of a loaded gun and the ideology to ‘kill a beast’. At that moment, I was no longer transported into a tale as old as time, suspended in Disney magic. I wasn’t ready for this social commentary. I wasn’t ready to feel my entire body react, to feel the emotional kickback of the gun violence that permeates our society, nor was I ready to teach my daughter about it. I wasn’t ready to hear that unmistakable sound. I didn’t see it coming until after I heard that shot. I prepared myself for the moment when Gaston would draw his bow. I narrated the actions of Gaston throwing fire onto a wagon, of villagers breaking off parts of buildings to wield as weapons, of the castle objects preparing to keep the castle safe. “Mommy, I will just close my eyes for that part, and you can tell me what happens.” As the fateful scene approached, I held my daughter on my lap as she covered her eyes with her hands. She told me that she didn’t want to watch when Gaston sings and kills the Beast. My daughter prepared herself for the tense moments, when we’d see real wolves attacking and a very angry Beast, and she let me know that she was ready to be brave. We talked a lot about what to expect, as this is my parenting approach to most things. We went in knowing the story, having watched the animated version countless times. The 2017 remake released on my half birthday (yes, I celebrate half birthdays), so I took my four-year-old daughter to one of the first showings on Friday morning. The highlight of taking my children to Disney World was meeting Belle and eating at Be Our Guest. Disney’s 1991 “Beauty and the Beast” has been my favorite movie since I watched the ending credits sung by Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson in the movie theater at the age of five. But it wasn’t the love that left its spell on me. While these can only be seen as baby steps, Disney is making strides towards representation. Disney also presents us with not one, but two interracial relationships. Criticism and praise have abounded as Disney admits that the 2017 incarnation of LeFou is now their first openly gay character, paying tribute to Ashman. His art speaks to his individual experience as “ being both gay and sick in the early 90s ”. Howard Ashman, who co-wrote the film’s iconic music, lost his battle against AIDS before he was able to see the movie released. The original film has often been regarded as a symbol for stigmatized love. The Disney movie of 2017 is a whole different beast than the Disney movie of 1991.
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