Many
of the tales of chivalry and royalty of the Medieval era center around legends
of knights, kings, princesses and villains.
The role of princess depends heavily on purity, duty, piety and all
around moral goodness. Frequently, these
traits are best symbolized through heavy-handed imagery detailing said
princess’ whiteness. Unfortunately, this
trope did not die with the dragons.
“Mirror, mirror on
the wall. Who’s the fairest of them all?” This now infamous quote is uttered by
the Evil Queen in Disney’s first full-length animated feature film Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. As the titular character’s name indicates,
pearly skin is a critical defining feature.
Snow White is pure, demure, and completely and utterly sure that her
prince will save her. People either want
her or want her dead and it keeps coming back to the tone of her skin. The princess’ fair complexion shapes her as
heroic and laudable even if she essentially only cooks and sleeps. This trope of “whiteness as goodness” as
attributed to princesses certainly emerges strongly in medieval literature. Interestingly enough, Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves emerged
during a time of high racial and cultural tension, further pressing the idea
that whiteness equals goodness.
To
return to a popular topic of discussion of mine, this medieval dualism between
“white as good” and “dark as evil” is strong in many literary works of the 19th
century, namely in America. In The Last Mohicans, one of the primary
racial dualisms lies in the relationship between sisters Cora and Alice. Alice and all her whiteness lives happily to
the end of the book. Cora’s “downfall”
rests on her role as what critics call a “tragic mulatto.” Cora dies along with her archetype and even if
she is a noble protagonist, the racial binaries and difficulties complicate
matters. Alice is constantly praised for
her purity and Cora for her strength, emphasizing the notion that Alice’s
complexion is somehow indicative of her purity.
While Cora is not a villain, she acts as a foil to Alice and almost a
way to emphasize Alice’s whiteness and goodness. Like the Princess of Tars, her
characterization is driven by race.
Once
again returning to Uncle Tom’s Cabin,
one of the most infamous racial dualisms lies in the relationship between the
angelic daughter of a plantation master Little Eva and rambunctious house slave
Topsy. Topsy is today one of the most
vicious caricatures, but she constantly is juxtaposed to Little Eva, and with
good reason. Little Eva is basically a
miniature pious angel. She’s not quite a
medieval princess but she serves a similar purpose. She is dutiful to Christ, delicate, demure,
and, above all, white. Because Little
Eva is both white and Christian, even pushing Tom’s conversion, she is
rewarded. Unlike the Princess of Tars,
that reward is not a magically white husband and a baby miraculously
transformed from amorphous ball of flesh to beautiful child. It’s Heaven.
A little girl is literally rewarded because she’s way more eloquent than
she has any right to be and she is a white Christian. While written several hundred years after The
Princess of Tars, during a time of war and turmoil, Stowe’s characterization of
Little Eva perpetuates the medieval archetype that whiteness and duty demand
reward.
While
I did not specifically explore these medieval tales themselves, I chose to
explore the implications and the aftermath.
Equating whiteness with goodness in literature is a dangerous path to go
down and one that, regrettably, seems unending.
Uncle Tom's Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe
The Last of the Mohicans, James Fennimore Cooper
No comments:
Post a Comment