Tinker Belles and Evil Queens: The Walt Disney Company From the Inside Out (3 page)

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to find new markets, it was probably inevitable that the studio would reach out to the untapped “gay community” for their dollars. In doing so, Disney was following the strategy of many other companies, both within and outside of the entertainment industry. While obviously delighting many lesbian and gay individuals in the process, such a shift is marked more by economic concerns than by gay political activism. Disney wants more money, and if that means giving a nod to potential homosexual customers, then so be it.

It is important to recognize that it is these economic pressures—this capitalist agenda—that have led Disney to recognize a “gay market” for its product, and
not
a “gay agenda.” Yet, it is even more important to acknowledge how this capitalist agenda also impacts upon those who identify themselves as homosexuals, not just within the company’s employee roster but within the audience. Non-straight consumers of Disney are just as affected by the capitalist system as is Disney itself (if not moreso). If Disney’s attitude towards sexuality is affected by economic decisions, then these same economic decisions have the potential to control and limit the possible uses of Disney products by non-straight consumers. To address this issue, each section is divided into separate chapters that alternately focus on production and reception. Chapter 1

examines how the studio produced a discourse of sexuality during Walt’s life; chapter 2 examines how homosexual individuals seemed to have used the “Disney discourse” during this time frame. Similarly, chapter 3 examines the changes within the Walt Disney Company towards sexuality since Walt’s death, while chapter 4 examines how these changes seem to have affected how Disney was used by homosexual consumers. Chapter 5 acts as a synthesis, examining specifically how production strategies attempt to affect the use of Disneyana by homosexuals. Through this organization, Disney’s relationship with gay culture is specifically analyzed as a manifestation of capitalist discourse attempting to define and regulate the modern conception of homosexuality.12

Numerous writers recently have focused on how various societal factors, or discourses, have affected concepts of sexual identity in Western society—medical, legal, religious, etc. Such “social constructionist”

discussion seems opposed to the work of numerous researchers who have searched for a medical or genetic cause for sexual preference from the end of the nineteenth century to today.13 This research eventually may show that gay men and lesbians do not simply “choose” to be ho-I N T RO D U C T I O N

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mosexual. Such findings would bolster calls for civil-rights legislation—and certainly put to rest the notion that homosexuality can be somehow “unlearned.”14 Yet, even if a “gay gene” is eventually found, this in no way invalidates the importance of social conditioning on human behavior and thought processes. Even though most of Western society views heterosexuality as a natural drive, many would also acknowledge the differences between cultures or the changes over time in ideas of beauty and attractiveness—from the Rubenesque full female form to the thin waifish figure of Twiggy, for example. Similarly, a “gay gene” would not explain the diversity of expression which comes under the heading of “homosexuality.” Would a “gay gene” work for a male-to-female transsexual who desires men? And would it work in the same way for a “conventionally” masculine gay man? Would a “gay gene”

determine if a lesbian was butch or femme (or none of the above)? Tied to this work, would a “gay gene”
mean
all homosexuals would respond identically to Disney films or theme parks?

Historical research seems to indicate that the conception of the term

“homosexuality” itself is not fixed and has shifted meaning throughout the twentieth century. During the first half of the century, it was common to define homosexual men as effeminate. Both “straight” hegemonic culture and the marginal homosexual culture accepted this definition. Those men who were attracted to other men, but played the

“masculine” role, weren’t as easily considered to be homosexual.15 Similarly, lesbian culture in the middle of the 20th century often mandated identification with either a “butch” or “femme” persona, and frowned upon individuals who broke from this binary structure.16 Such examples stress how social concepts affect identity and behavior and deconstruct the idea of sexuality as a natural, biological inevitability. Instead of some predetermined essence, sexuality is defined by a network of social discourses that surrounds the individual, such as the discourse of the medical profession or the law. These discourses attempt to “naturalize” their opinions, trying to convince the individual that the discourse is inevitable and taken for granted. In so doing, social constructionism describes a power relation between the individual and these social forces.

One of the most powerful discourses in modern Western society is the mass media. A steady output of movies, television, popular music and literature represent to individuals certain learned conceptions of how the world functions. People learn how to relate to others (and even xx

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more importantly to themselves) by identifying with characters or narratives presented in popular culture. Rather than overt oppression by police or the armed forces forcing people into behaving and thinking a certain way, “ideological state apparatuses” (as Louis Althusser named them) such as the church, the family structure or popular culture work more subtly and benignly to draw the individual into the thought patterns of the ruling culture. While societal pressures obviously try to inculcate the individual as heterosexual, social discourse also addresses (sometimes obliquely, sometimes violently) non-heterosexual identities. With the conception of heterosexuality, the conception of its opposite or “other” is also present—homosexuality. Constructionists argue that heterosexuality needs a conception of homosexuality to differentiate and define itself more clearly. This study of Disney’s ties to gay culture provides one example of how popular culture affects the construction of one’s self-identity as a homosexual, even as it primarily attempts to naturalize heterosexuality.

Michel Foucault’s landmark study of the development of “sexuality” as a method of self-definition has had profound influence on those who analyze the social construction of sexualities. Many have found hope in Foucault’s discussion of turning social discourse on sexuality back upon itself. In
The History of Sexuality,
Vol. 1,
An Introduction,
he writes

Discourse can be both an instrument and an effect of power, but also a hindrance, a stumbling-block, a point of resistance and a starting point for an opposing strategy . . . homosexuality began to speak in its own behalf, to demand its legitimacy or “naturalness” be acknowledged, often in the same vocabulary, using the same categories by which it was medically disqualified.17

But, there are reservations with using such a position to celebrate freedom from homosexual oppression. Homosexuals may find their own voice—but they are using the system’s words, rather than finding their own. In doing so, the system remains empowered. As Foucault says in the last sentence of the book, “The irony of this . . . is having us believe our ‘liberation’ is in the balance.”18

By focusing on the power of economic discourse in the social construction of homosexuality, one can see readily the irony Foucault is de-I N T RO D U C T I O N

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scribing. Foucault describes how conceptualizations of sexuality are

“linked to the economy through numerous and subtle relays . . . proliferating, innovating, annexing, creating and penetrating bodies in an increasingly detailed way.”19 As I have mentioned, Disney’s need to create newer consumer bases for its product has pushed the conglomerate (and many other corporations during this period) to annex, penetrate and create a concept of “the homosexual consumer.” While many lesbians and gay men may find acknowledgement and recognition a major victory in the battle for “liberation,” studying Disney’s marketing towards “the homosexual consumer” in chapter 5 will exemplify exactly how limited the “liberation” can be. Disney’s growing acceptance of a

“lesbian” or “gay” audience, I will argue, has the ironic potential of decreasing an individual’s ability to use the company’s products through a wider “queer” sensibility.

I make an important distinction between the term “queer” and the terms “lesbian” and “gay” in the ensuing pages. The terms “lesbian”

and “gay” occur frequently, particularly in reference to concrete individuals and their readings of Disney (and of themselves). Yet, these two terms are also used to demarcate a specific sexual identity—and to examine how these two specific identities have been shaped by social discourse. In contrast, “queer” is used here to acknowledge and discuss the wide range of expression of sexual desire, a range that includes
but
goes beyond
“gay” or “lesbian.” Activists such as Queer Nation began to use “queer” in the late 1980s to be more inclusive of gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, transsexuals—in short, the wide variety of sexualities (and, hopefully, the diverse racial/ethnic and class identities) which are created by the matrices of social discourse. Soon, academics began to use the term to discuss theories of sexuality, specifically the slippage or breakdown of attempts to categorize individuals according to a gender or sexuality. Alexander Doty describes this new use of “queer” as “an attitude . . . that begins in a place not concerned with, or limited by, notions of a binary opposition of male and female or the homo versus hetero paradigm.”20 This is not to say that a self-identified “queer” individual is somehow successfully outside of hegemonic discourse and thus somehow “freer” or “better” than a self-identified “lesbian” or

“gay man.” It is impossible to completely escape societal constraints in one’s conception of the world and self-identity. Yet, this use of “queer”

attempts to recognize “homosexuality’s” place in the social structure, xxii

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and to complicate the regulation of self-identity created by such terms as “lesbian” and “gay”—to problematize (like Foucault) the notion of

“gay liberation.”

Historical evidence indicates that lesbians and gay men have read Disney artifacts from a non-heterosexual viewpoint throughout the company’s history. In the early years of the studio, when Disney executives by and large did not realize or acknowledge a “gay sensibility” towards their product, such readings perfectly encapsulated how marginalized communities encounter and use objects from mass culture for their own ends (as theorized by such authors as Michel de Certeau, John Fiske and Henry Jenkins).21 Yet, the growing awareness of the gay community in recent years by the Walt Disney Company, and a purposeful marketing towards this community, complicates and, at times, challenges the celebratory nature of many reception studies. By acknowledging the use of modern marketing techniques and current trends in audience research, this study will employ Foucault’s theories of power and discourse to analyze the dialectic between the Walt Disney Company and homosexual consumers of their products, specifically how modern capitalism and advertising have affected how lesbians and gay men have defined and expressed their sexuality. Sometimes looking a gift horse in the mouth reveals the prize to be of Trojan lineage.22

When I first thought of delving into the relationship between Disney and gay culture, I encountered resistance and worried looks from a number of people. Some felt that I could not prove that such a relationship existed—as if I had to find a “smoking gun” within the files of the Walt Disney Company, some sort of secret memo signed by Michael Eisner saying to proceed with its “gay agenda.” Also, people seemed worried that my work would only entail a series of outings of various artists and executives that had worked for the company—again, emphasizing the need to prove that someone had meant for Disney’s output to be read queerly. I had never felt the need to prove intent by the Walt Disney Company; as long as evidence showed that homosexual
audiences
were understanding Disney through a “gay sensibility,” then a relationship existed whether Disney approved of it or not. As time has gone on, specific events have shown that Disney is cognizant of the presence of lesbians and gay men within their employee roster and within their potential customer base. Yet, this does not mean that I now have proof of Disney’s “gay agenda.” Rather, this analysis shows how business in-I N T RO D U C T I O N

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terests have worked to make Disney acknowledge that homosexuality simply exists.

Lastly, there was the indication from the worries about possible outings that such a study would create a retaliation against Disney, which would then scale back its acknowledgement of homosexuals.

Years have passed, though, and (to put it mildly) this is now like asking to shut the barn door after the horse has escaped. Furthermore, such trepidation is predicated by the fact that lesbians and gay men “had a good thing going” with Disney, an assessment with which I do not wholeheartedly agree. Since this development is directly tied to corporate plans for more profit and power, homosexuals have as much to be guarded about as Christian conservatives who have decried Disney’s shift. As this work hopes to show, the “homosexual community” may gain some concrete benefits from such explicit acknowledgement, but there is a trade-off for such acknowledgement, in which capitalism increasingly works to control how homosexuality is conceived and addressed. If nothing else, the reluctance that some expressed to me about tackling this topic brought to light how important it was to drag this relationship “out of the closet” in order to point out the advantages and disadvantages of reading Disney queerly.

PA RT I

WITH WALT

1

Mickey’s Monastery

Sexuality and the “Disney Mystique”

TO A S S E RT T H AT there is a construction of sexuality in Disneyana might seem to be stating the obvious since sexuality pervades all areas of culture. But to many, the Walt Disney Company has long stood as a safe haven from the “rampant” sexuality that can be found in most popular culture. In 1995, a letter to the studio from a coalition of Florida lawmakers described how