I like to make a practice of forming opinions on as many socio-economic/socio-political issues around me as possible. Firstly, for the reason that having an educated opinion on a matter can serve as an easy benchmark to measure one’s own awareness of the topic, and secondly, for the reason that it allows me to have more conversations with people well-versed on the subject. As such, I end up with what I would call a reasonable opinion that takes into account different perspectives as well as my own experiences, (hopefully) devoid of what I like to call “mob-theorist” biases, and I prefer when these column pieces reflect that. This is not one of those pieces.
Today I’m lamenting over the lack of representation in cartoons. Recently, Twitter got its panties in a twist over the Magic School Bus reboot The Magic School Bus Rides Again because of the seemingly whitewashed depictions of the beloved original cast. The reboot employs a distinctly new animation style that softens Ms. Frizzle’s hair and nose (let it be noted that the teacher in this series is Ms. Valerie Frizzle’s daughter, Ms. Fiona Frizzle, who sports more traditionally appealing features), lightens the skin color of both Keesha and Tim, and rounds the eyes of Wanda. In animation, it can be hard to tell whether some choices are made based on the animation graphics (for example, many Asian cartoon characters will have a section of their hair dyed a different color to help with the animation of black hair, which can be hard to add depth to otherwise), or based on stylistic endeavors. The show in and of itself isn’t too shabby, boasting Kate McKinnon as the voice actress for Fiona Frizzle, including a new South Asian classmate, and opening with a title sequence sung by Lin-Manuel Miranda. So while there’s no evidence that this is a concerted effort to anglicize a fan favorite children’s show, the matter of providing representation via cartoons remains one to be properly addressed.
There’s no more need to publicly complain about the new series; it’s been three years since its cancelation. Clearly, the love to complain about things that we haven’t updated ourselves on continues to thrive on the boredom fostered by the pandemic. However, it irks me that we still have to have the never-ending conversation about representation in every facet of art, media, and culture. Contrary to popular belief, representation isn’t hard. All it requires is inclusivity. It’s when there isn’t inclusivity that representation becomes hard.
When Disney released the trailer for Wreck-it Ralph 2, anti-racism campaigners took it upon themselves to criticize the depiction of Tiana, the only Black Disney princess. The response? Disney listened! The movie premiere showed Tiana with features more aligned with the original release of the Princess and the Frog, including her hair and skin color. When the Zorro inspired Mexican mouse, Speedy Gonzales, got canceled for what activists claimed to be harmful stereotypes, the outcry from the Latin community revealed their adoration at the little Mexican hero. My question is, why does this keep happening? Why is there such a disconnect between the animators and their audiences, especially when it comes to representation?
It comes down to making sure the voices of people who are being represented are not only accounted for but included in the decisions going into representation. It makes no sense to wonder at the critical response for live-action remakes of animated shows/movies that don’t prioritize diversity on a bare minimum level, and yes, here I’m directly citing the live-action Avatar the Last Airbender; if you don’t believe me, I implore you to look up its casting. It also makes strides such as casting a Black Ariel for the live-action The Little Mermaid all the more important.
If you need me to deign to explain the difference between a non-POC acting/voice acting a POC and the opposite, allow me to point you in the direction of Betty Boop. One of the first female protagonists in an animated serial, the character was based mostly on Esther Lee, a Black singer, dancer, and acrobat who was completely whitewashed on-screen to fit the audience’s preference. Following a history of lack of representation, underrepresentation, and misrepresentation to fit the Eurocentric ideals of aesthetically pleasing, the animated depictions around us have some serious catching up to do. Making space for POC voice actors, diversified characters with medium to dark skin tones, and including POC opinions before the release of a movie rather than after is essential to attaining a more balanced representation that feels fair to everyone.
I’m sure there are people who are sick of hearing about representation, asking questions like: What does race have to do with video games? Why do we have to specify the sexual orientations of non-human characters? Does anyone really pay attention to the skin color of cartoons? To be perfectly frank, I’m sick of explaining it. Representation lets a person know they can look, act, and behave a certain way and still do things they didn’t know they could because they’ve never seen someone like them do it before. The media loves martyrs and pioneers, but to actually be one takes an exorbitant amount of thick skin, courage, and time. Representation serves to speed up the process. There are plenty of artists now including people with vitiligo, people who wear hijabs, autistic people, and many more underrepresented demographics in the media. Pixar’s short films Bao and Sanjay’s Super Team are great examples as well. Hopefully, we continue to move forward in this direction rather than continuously bringing up the need for this conversation.
The Doodling Duck is an Opinion culture column written and created by Pooja Rajadurai to discuss art as it relates to pop culture, trends, and students.
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