As a middle-class, white mom teaching at a private boarding school in an affluent town, I was delighted that this black character had become my child’s favorite. While my feminist self may bristle at the Disney princess mania that assails our young girls, I felt good, perhaps even a bit smug, that Tiana has enjoyed such popularity in my household and beyond. So I was excited to see why my daughter found this character and the movie so appealing.
Besides the appeal of finally seeing an African-American Disney heroine, the film is visually stunning and the score captures the energy and quality of New Orleans’ Dixieland and jazz heritage. So far, so good.
But early in the film, Tiana performs the song “Almost There,” which is about realizing one’s goals. Oh no! The “myth of meritocracy” blares full force into the film, reiterating the old refrain that one only needs to work hard to enjoy success.
This myth equates success with natural talent, intelligence, and hard work and thus suggests that those who succeed do so purely because they deserve it. It is this entrenched belief and its constant cultural expression, in the independent school world and beyond, that stalls and stymies true inclusion.
Accepting the Existence of Privilege
Over the past decade, my work inside and outside of the classroom has focused extensively on diversity, inclusion, social justice, and equity. I am the adviser to our student diversity organization, and I started a series of sessions called “Race Space” where students come together to discuss difficult race-related issues and current events such as Black Lives Matter, Beyoncé’s Super Bowl performance, and the lack of responsiveness to the disastrous storm in Puerto Rico. I teach a required modern world history course focused on human rights, examining both historical and current examples of bigotry, hatred, and intolerance. I’m part of a group of teachers who spend Saturdays working with students in all-class seminars, organized by grade level, to examine privilege, ageism, racism, sexism, socio-economic disparity, and homophobia. In addition to teaching a course on Native American culture, I’ve led service trips to the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.
While our school has made remarkable progress in examining and deconstructing structures of patriarchy, Western culture, and privilege, we still get pushback from kids, co-workers, and parents. The toughest part of all of this work, whether it’s with students or adults, is dismantling the myth of meritocracy.
Eight years ago, I was wowed by my first People of Color Conference in Philadelphia. But though I was fired up by this conference, I was also a bit dismayed to hear that I was enjoying the benefits of privilege. I’m the first in my central-European immigrant family to have earned a degree. I studied at graduate schools solely on scholarships and work-study assistantships. I’ve never enjoyed social or family connections, nor even a familiarity of what boarding/independent schools were all about. I earned my degrees at public state universities. Yep, I’m reciting the myth of meritocracy.
Thankfully, through repeated training, I slowly but surely understood and accepted my privilege. Decades of conditioning, buttressed by centuries of a cultural philosophy of “white makes right” and “hard work reaps rewards,” cannot be undone overnight. Educators involved in inclusion work must have patience; the dismantling of the myth is tough to hear and even tougher to embrace, especially in school environments that stress the importance of credentials and a tenacious work ethic.
Like Disney, I wanted to do good but didn’t understand how much I would need to change my assumptions. With The Princess and the Frog, the studio had a chance to realign their young audiences’ thinking that only hard work brings realized dreams and that only the deserving are rewarded. The writers could have examined more closely the disadvantages that come with skin color and one’s station in life. For example, Tiana works several jobs to save up to buy her restaurant location, a former sugar mill (in and of itself a colonial commentary), but she is thwarted at the last moment by a buyer who has offered more money for the property. Her real estate agents tell her that it’s difficult for a person “of her background” to succeed—a veiled reference to color that few children would recognize.
Similarly, many independent schools have an undercurrent (or explicit statement) of exclusivity. Educators need to be aware of and sensitive to the mixed messages we send when we admit legacies and herald and maintain traditions, while also issuing calls for greater diversity. Are we doing all we can to ensure real diversity, or are we simply mouthing the platitudes? We cannot claim to want diversity and then prickle at cultural expressions that are “too black” or “too Hispanic” or “too Asian” or “too queer.”
Good Intentions Aren’t Enough
Let’s finish up with our Disney storyboard and its happy ending. As the movie progresses, Tiana and her prince are turned into frogs, and the couple, desperate to become human again, visits an ancient blind medicine woman, Mama Odie. She tells Tiana that sometimes you don’t get what you want (her restaurant), but you get what you need (romantic love). This advice suggests that Tiana’s dreams aren’t grounded in her self-knowledge or her sound and thoughtful ambition. It seems to me specious, at best, to tell girls that attaching yourself to a man is more important than pursuing your entrepreneurial passions.
But this is Disney’s world, so the two main (heterosexual) characters must live happily ever after. Once these two proclaim their love, the spell is broken, the prince and “princess” become human, and they marry. All is well because now Tiana can pursue her restaurant since her husband comes from royalty and prosperity. This movie had noble intentions, but in the end, Disney continued its princess story formula without considering that this tale involved a different starting point and thus needed a different trajectory.
In this way, the film mimics our attempts at diversity and inclusion at independent schools. We claim we want more diversified student bodies, faculties, administrations, and staffs, and yet we refuse to change our recruitment model. We expect teaching applicants to have advanced degrees from the “right” places, to have experience teaching at the most prestigious schools, and to possess a host of additional talents in coaching and extracurriculars. We refuse to move beyond the education headhunter model to one that looks to university education programs, people currently working at nonprofits, or alumni who could offer valuable experience.
Furthermore, can independent schools accept that in order to get diversity hires they might need to offer a substantial amount of extra money to secure their commitment? Can we accept that in order to get more students from different backgrounds, financial aid may need to be distributed differently? Can we accept that students of color may need some help acquiring the skills to succeed in the classroom and a new environment? Can we stop expecting integration by osmosis, saying things like “Why do all the black/Latino/Chinese kids always eat together?” Can we stop questioning the value of affinity groups for the marginalized?
In other words, can we smash the myth of meritocracy once and for all by accepting that privilege does mean unfair advantage whether one asks for it or not. And yes, one can (and probably should) feel bad about that for a while.
Disney tried to produce a modern heroine, but it failed to understand the nuance of its task—though it should have been able to do so. The Disney brand and independent schools suffer from some of the same misconceptions, stasis, and even hubris. Because both have produced some remarkable work and results, there is a tendency to ignore the need for deep-seated change. We’ve become too comfortable in our success.
As independent schools move forward with their diversity and inclusion initiatives, we must stop expecting the work to be without guilt, discomfort, conflict, or complexity. We tell our students that they must prepare themselves for life’s challenges. Well, here’s a big one for all of us: Accept that privilege has played a role in your successes, and then figure out how more people can enjoy what that privilege confers.
We can shatter the myth of meritocracy by creating a more level playing field and a team filled with players who bring a variety of skills to the game. In this scenario, everyone wins and no one needs to set aside their dreams of victory.
The original version of this article included an incorrect name for the heroine of “The Princess and the Frog.” Her name is Tiana. We regret the error.