My Pakistani-American heritage has constantly been a crucial part of my identity. Growing up, the most obvious conflict was achieving a balance between Pakistani and American cultures. A majority of norms were contrasted between the two: be conservative or open, dedicate myself to family or friends, carry myself with quiet elegance or assertion, and so on. I felt split. Gender roles juxtaposed each other immensely, but one aspect of both worlds aligned: physical appearance. I learned at an early age that the natural hue of my skin was simply not good enough in both of my realities.
As most children grow up enamored with Disney movies, I found myself glued to my TV screen. My immersion in fantasy worlds was desperate. Pale, petite, women regularly presented themselves in front of my eyes. Despite all others, one princess in particular stood out from the rest: Jasmine. She was strong, confident and comfortable with her blatantly ethnic features. She was proud. She showed me that I could be who I am naturally without feeling remorse. My brown skin, though it’s not preferred in either of my realms, could be preferred by the most important person of all: myself.
A new live-action version of the movie Aladdin is now in the works. When I first heard about this, I was ecstatic to see the casting for my childhood idol. My enthusiasm rapidly waned when the official roles were confirmed. Naomi Scott, a Disney actress known for her role in Lemonade Mouth, was chosen to be the new Jasmine. All of the things I felt Jasmine represented seemed to lack.
Scott’s beauty is undeniable; different types of beauty does not, and never means that one type is better than another. But when South Asian-American girls grow up only seeing the opposite of who we are as the epitome of beauty, and now see that specific physicality being chosen as someone who represented us in the media, we are left to feel confused.
I, along with many other women of color, were hoping to see someone real. To see someone who looked like us. More than anything, I feel a significant amount of girls who grew up looking up to Jasmine feel disappointed above all else. Acting merit is its own thing, but Aladdin could have easily been an excuse for Disney to attempt integrating a widespread amount of diversity within its roles. It seems highly unlikely that there was not anyone else who auditioned for the job. This is simply one example of a variety of instances mainstream media and entertainment has disappointed women, and men, of color.
As most children grow up enamored with Disney movies, I found myself glued to my TV screen. My immersion in fantasy worlds was desperate. Pale, petite, women regularly presented themselves in front of my eyes. Despite all others, one princess in particular stood out from the rest: Jasmine. She was strong, confident and comfortable with her blatantly ethnic features. She was proud. She showed me that I could be who I am naturally without feeling remorse. My brown skin, though it’s not preferred in either of my realms, could be preferred by the most important person of all: myself.
A new live-action version of the movie Aladdin is now in the works. When I first heard about this, I was ecstatic to see the casting for my childhood idol. My enthusiasm rapidly waned when the official roles were confirmed. Naomi Scott, a Disney actress known for her role in Lemonade Mouth, was chosen to be the new Jasmine. All of the things I felt Jasmine represented seemed to lack.
Scott’s beauty is undeniable; different types of beauty does not, and never means that one type is better than another. But when South Asian-American girls grow up only seeing the opposite of who we are as the epitome of beauty, and now see that specific physicality being chosen as someone who represented us in the media, we are left to feel confused.
I, along with many other women of color, were hoping to see someone real. To see someone who looked like us. More than anything, I feel a significant amount of girls who grew up looking up to Jasmine feel disappointed above all else. Acting merit is its own thing, but Aladdin could have easily been an excuse for Disney to attempt integrating a widespread amount of diversity within its roles. It seems highly unlikely that there was not anyone else who auditioned for the job. This is simply one example of a variety of instances mainstream media and entertainment has disappointed women, and men, of color.