Potterliteracy

I’m sure many of you are big fans of Harry Potter. Similar to my discussions with other children’s media such as Disney films, I want to make more people aware of the interesting concepts that would otherwise be overlooked when looking at Harry Potter media. In particular, I want to discuss the issues illuminated by Burn’s article on “Potterliteracy”. In relation to my previous discussions of the “death” of childhood with the advent of new media and technology, I’d like to pinpoint how Harry is differently portrayed as the “hero” in proportion to how childhood is viewed in comparison with adulthood, and how new media determinism is a result of this. I’ve decided one effective way is to dissect the Aragog (the spider king whose a friend of Hagrid’s) scene in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
In Harry Potter text media (book), even though Harry is portrayed as the hero, he is nevertheless still considered a “child” who inevitably still needs the guidance and protection of an “adult.” When the spider minions surround Harry and Ron, Ron’s car comes to their rescue, wiping out the spiders through action, while Harry couldn’t do much to alleviate the situation. In this case, the car can be seen as the “adult” guardian who comes to the rescue of the “children” in distress. In the words of J.K. Rowling, all the verb actions are happening to Harry instead of him performing the actions. This places him in a position of the victimized when he’s supposed to be the hero. In the filmic version of Harry Potter, however, Harry at least gets to use his wand twice to save Ron. Ron actually drives the car instead of the car driving itself. In addition, they made this scene even longer in the film because we, as an audience, expect to see the protagonist actually perform certain heroic actions. Even in the film, Harry and Ron have limited ability to escape. In the video game, on the other hand, we only see Harry and not Ron after the cut scene. Instead of running away like in the book and the movie, however, Harry (who we as audience get to play with the controller) strategizes and not only stays to fight the little spider minions and successfully killing them, but also faces Aragog himself.
With the degree of interactivity and how Harry is represented as the “heavy hero” (with not just participation but agency in the video game) rather than a relatively helpless child, we can argue that the transformation in the representation of Harry Potter is a result of new media determinism as it constructed a change in childhood between the game and the book. Once again, we can relate back to Buckingham’s After the Death of Childhood: Growing Up in the Age of Electronic Media.

Gender Stereotyping in Disney Films

If we look closely at Disney animated films like the Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Snow White, and Beauty and the Beast, we can definitely pick up on the gender stereotyping performed within the narrative. If we take a step back and scrutinize the general overview of Disney characters, we can see that they are characterized by narrowly defined gender roles. The male heroes or protagonists, for example, like Hercules, Aladdin or the Beast are always the ones to save the inferior damsel in distress. Even more blatant is the gender stereotyping of female roles. They are usually portrayed as subordinate, and if they do have power, they are usually evil characters (e.g. the evil Queen in Snow White and the evil octopus witch in the Little Mermaid). Often times, the female character is always the object or prize won by the male character. Jasmine is created under a dominant male narrative in the sense of being the object of Aladdin’s desire. Ariel constantly has to abide by the wishes of her father, and the only way she acquires autonomy is by sacrificing her most priceless gift: her voice. Only then does she receive the legs to free herself from the water world and walk on land to pursue her lover. Snow White, on the other hand, seems to be restricted to traditional roles like cleaning. Similarly, Belle, even after the Beast captures her father as his prisoner, is expected to perform her role and civilize the Beast with love.

What’s the big deal? What do you think this communicates to the children constantly watching these films over and over, and exposed to the same hegemonic gender stereotypes inherent to the depiction of these characters? Watching children’s media is an extremely influential way for children to make sense of their world, shape their self-perceived identities and how they fit in. Little girls are thus promoted to think that they are expected to have sexed up hourglass figures, long eyelashes and all the other female stereotypes that are created through the dominant male gaze.

Boy Culture

As the kids today consume children’s media, they are inevitably falling under the brainwashing spells of new media determinism. There is a blurring of boundaries between childhood and adulthood, especially when all the “adult secrets” (discussed in the previous post) are revealed in a click of a button. Childhood is now viewed as both threatened and threatening. Before new media such as the television and Internet, however, “boy culture” dominated young social life. Jenkin’s article, “A Tale of Two Childhoods”, digs deeper into this notion of boy culture and how it’s evolved under new media determinism. When boys were done with school during the Industrialization age, they would explore their identity through play in the outdoors rather than going home. They imitated and reenacted adult male activity to grasp a firmer sense of adult ideology, simultaneously shaping their identity to fit in with their social world. For example, they might engage in role-play like cops and robbers or reenact what they’ve seen in real life. With the advent of the television and computer into the household, however, there was an inevitable transformation of boy culture, as the “home region”, or space of self-exploration, comes indoors. The negative stereotype of the boy who stayed in and read books as the “bookworm” did not apply analogously to the boy who stayed in and consumed video games, a different new media other than text. Instead of using their imagination to transform a stick into a shotgun rifle, boys could now play competitively through LAN or online video games and virtually shoot each other with damn realistic portrayals of guns. Boys can even engage in the exploration of world issues in video games, such as Call of Duty, a game that teaches a lot about war history. In addition, their social circle is no longer restricted to the neighborhood children around the block, but expands infinitely when playing video games with others online. As a result, the degree of interactivity sky rockets. The great mobility associated to the outdoors in boy culture is still no match to the divine access given by the World Wide Web. On the other hand, however, this facilitated form of play severely influences the development of imagination, as technology does all the creative thinking for us. No longer do children need to imagine contexts of play as they once did in the outdoors when modern video games already simulate a virtual world with prescribed representations of characters and objects for them to interact with. In a sense, the pricelessness of original imagination and pretend play that is the essence of childhood has been lost. If you are interested, David Buckingham further illuminates the "death of childhood" in his book, After the Death of Childhood: Growing Up in the Age of Electronic Media.

Racial Stereotyping in Disney

If you watch Disney animated films in scrutiny, the racial stereotyping that they create are pretty evident. Don’t believe me? In the Jungle Book, the portrayal of African Americans as monkeys, stereotypically linked through language and jive dance, outgrows their prior crude representation as crows. Similarly, in Aladdin, it’s interesting how the protagonist Aladdin is illustrated with obvious Western features while the villain Jafar and the palace guards are illustrated as having ethnic features with humungous bell pepper shaped noses. Perhaps more intriguing is the Aladdin theme song “Arabian Nights.” In my Childrens Media class, I overheard the rumor that there were originally two versions of that song, and Disney chose the more stereotypical and “racist” version. And I wouldn’t doubt it. Just look at the lyrics: “And the heat is intense. It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home.” So now, young children watching who don’t know any better have a stereotype implemented into their young minds: that Arabs tend to have distinctly different features and are a barbaric people from an undesirable place. In addition, in Peter Pan, Native Americans are stereotyped to all have incredibly red skin and live in teepee tents.
The racial stereotyping in Disney films are not only coded through imagery and the physical features of the characters, but also through language and accents. In Lady and the Tramp, for example, Asian people are represented through the Siamese cats and portrayed as all speaking with the same distinct oriental accent. Through the various means of stereotyping, Disney uses the cultural differences expressed through a naturalized racial hierarchy to show the hegemonic White patriarchal American family as the most standard, normal and privileged.

Disnification

What is Disnification? In my past studies in children’s media, Disnification has become a term used to not only illuminate how society is increasingly similar to Disney theme parks but also raise awareness of Disney’s dominating cultural authority.
The Disney Corporation, for example, uses their characters (e.g. Aladdin, Buzz Lightyear, Snow White, etc.) as prototypes for marketing blitz. When children watch Disney films, they grow a special relationship with the characters. And when Disney starts to produce toy action figures of those characters or even food products like fruit snacks shaped like Disney characters, children cannot resist but to request those products. Parents have to suffer through the whining and ultimately have to spend the money to satisfy their children. Other children’s media like Nickelodeon are using similar strategies. In a documentary called Consuming Kids, a little girl was interviewed and asked why she wanted to buy the Spongebob Squarepants macaroni as opposed to regular EasyMac. She replied, “Because it tastes better” (even though she has never tried Spongebob macaroni before).
Even in non-animated Disney films, they are constantly trying to act as a figure of cultural authority; for example, they constantly project their own meanings of happiness and ideal social life. In the older films, we witness how the suburban white family seems to be the equation to happiness and wealth. As a result, this could have detrimental effects on minority children who are trying to fit their identity in with the rest of their social world. Disney blurs the boundaries between entertainment, education and commercialization through omnipotence of Disney’s reach into diverse spheres of everyday life. However, they inevitably produce negative effects. They are prescribing themes to everything, homogenizing mass consumption and production and providing imaginary and false realities. Yet their corporation is so huge they are nearly untouchable. We must find ways to illuminate the negative issues produced by Disnification. In the near future, I will discuss particular ways Disney influences children and their identity construction process through hegemonic ideologies.

Pokemon

Many people might not notice, but the media exerts a big influence on people, especially children. Think back on your childhood and your favorite kinds of symbolic play (pretend play or roleplaying), and how the different media (TV shows, websites, etc.) shaped the way you carried out the play session. Let me provide your with a personal example. When I was approximately five to six years old, my favorite past time, whether alone or with my friends, was to indulge myself with anything related to Pokemon. I was an avid watcher of the Pokemon television show as well as a passionate collector of Pokemon cards. Occasionally, I would play the Pokemon Gameboy video game. My favorite time with Pokemon, however, was engaging in role play, most of the time with my slightly-younger family friends, Austin and Aaron, who made frequent weekend visits. In recollection, we would act accordingly to different characters and Pokemon creatures from the cartoon show, but we also used our imagination to expand beyond. Sometimes I would be Professor Oak, the knowledgeable Pokemon scientist in the quest of updating my Pokedex, an electronic handheld Pokemon index dictionary represented by my drawings on paper or imaginatively. We would sometimes conduct “research” on various Pokemon, creating sketches of the newly discovered ones, and sometimes also gathering all of our Pokemon toys and cards as props to set up our “Pokemon laboratory research facility” within my room. When we would leave our “laboratory” to go explore the wilderness, catch Pokemon, as well as battle evil enemies, our role within the sociodramatic play session may change. For example, I would change my role of Professor Oak to playing my Austin’s Pikachu in battle. We would set up a “fort” outside my room to distinguish between research and exploration sessions, or in case there are “intruders”, substituted by stuffed animals, random furniture or our parents, who we treated as our ultimate enemies in the game.
The Pokemon show established a particular context that interested me and illuminated certain aspects of social culture, science and technology that I would’ve never thought of exploring in my sheltered six-year-old life. Despite providing a general premise for the schemas, scripts and characters in my own narrative (scenarios and storylines composed during play), the Pokemon show stimulated my imagination beyond my independent capability and bestowed me with proper intellectual resources to structure my narratives and play. Through my role play sessions, I was simultaneously exploring my identity, placing myself in various imagined contexts to see how I fit in.