The Issue With Princess Jasmine

Graphic by 戸山 神奈 

“You look exotic, like you came from Egypt or something,” exclaimed my seventh-grade teacher, beckoning to my tanned skin and dark curls. I lit up instantly; this comment was a hell of a lot more welcomed than the usual “terrorist” remark. I went home that day and dashed up to my room. “Exotic … exotic,” I mumbled into the mirror, gliding my fingers over my full eyebrows and skin. The same eyebrows that I plucked the minute I stepped into middle school and the same skin that I desperately tried to lighten with sand on the playground. 

Spoiler alert: I’m not Egyptian. In fact, I’m Iranian. You know, like from that super unproblematic, peaceful country in the Middle East? 

People’s reactions to my heritage are usually predictable. They either have no clue where the country is, think that I’ve said Iraq or completely freeze up. The third reaction is the worst because I have no idea what they have seen about Iran in the media. Do they picture violence and illiteracy? Men with guns and women in black chadors? Crying children and hateful, backward citizens? Do they think about … terrorism? 

Historically, the term “Middle East” is an orientalist classification meant to separate and further exoticize the countries that are in the region. According to Encyclopedia Britannica, the early western geographers divided the continent of Asia into three classifications: the Near East, the Middle East and the Far East. Before World War I, countries from Egypt to Pakistan were grouped into the Middle Eastern category. The Washington Post highlights that British colonial administrators formed this division into a strategy, using the region as a defense for their colonization in India. Evidently, the “Middle East” is a problematic term due to its origins from a western perspective. The mindless grouping of diverse cultures and languages can cause harmful stereotypes to arise in media and reality. After 9/11, the blame was put on “Middle Easterns,” and countless hate crimes were inflicted on people who resembled the broad description. The United States Department of Justice confirms that in the first six years after the 9/11 attacks, there have been around 800 investigations involving threats, violence, vandalism and arson against people from “South Asian” and “Middle Eastern” origin. 

I have recently begun to use the term “West Asia” in place of the “Middle East” as a way to decolonize my language. Weirdly, this simple language change has inspired controversy. I have seen white people and even a couple of Asians discredit this accurate term for the geographical location. There is usually no malicious intent, but confusion since the “Middle East” category has been classified as white for decades! Surprisingly, The United States Government Census classifies people of “Middle Eastern” descent as white and further alienates them from the Asian category. As much as there is a gap for West Asians in Asian spaces, there is an even bigger gap in their representation. I had only one media character that I could physically identify with and look up to: the beautiful Princess Jasmine from Agrabah in “Aladdin.”

Jasmine is an orientalist character inspired by an amalgamation of West Asian and South Asian culture, packed into a fetishistic outfit and put on display in front of a western audience. As a child, I loved this movie with all my heart. How couldn’t I? She was the only person on screen that looked remotely like me. I clutched onto this morsel of representation like a child does to their mother on the first day of kindergarten. She was all I had, and it helped that our names were both inspired by the Jasmine flower, albeit hers was pronounced the ’Merican way. It took me years to figure out that Jasmine was not the cool representation that I thought she was. First of all, her character is 16. My age! Disney took a child and put her in a sorry excuse of a belly dancer’s outfit! Besides her sexualized clothing, the animators put Jasmine in chains and had her parade around the movie’s villain, Jafar. I remember that scene too well. The snug, red ensemble that she wore, the golden chains that bound her wrists and — how could I forget? — the kiss that she shared with her adult kidnapper. Gross! Why was Cinderella never stripped to a low-cut crop top to show her “exotic” ethnicity? Why was Belle’s relationship with her father portrayed as sweet and protective while Jasmine’s was framed as sexist and oppressive? Why was Aurora’s community shown as sweet and loving while Jasmine’s people threatened to cut her hand off for stealing? After comparing her origins and scenes to other princesses, one conclusion becomes clear: The exoticism and fetishization of women of colour had made it into mainstream children’s media for decades. 

These forms of media subliminally teach Southwest Asian and North African women (SWANA) that they can only be desired or shown as weak, oppressed, hypersexual yet sexually repressed characters. No wonder I thought that being “exotic” was a compliment! It was drilled into my brain since day one!

Even today, I am disheartened to see that SWANA women have almost zero representation in the media. The only crumb we do get is what I like to call the “Nadia.” For context, Netflix’s “Elite” includes a Palestinian hijabi character named Nadia (cool, right?). Unfortunately, this promising character is compromised when she takes off her hijab to show her hair to her white boyfriend, a fantasy that disturbingly occurs a lot in the media. How will there ever be any good role models for SWANA teens and tweens when all they see is that a SWANA woman is no good to be cast unless she is there for the pleasure of white men? How are they meant to see that they are so much more than their hair, skin, clothing and war-torn countries? Good representation is so important because it shows groups of people that they are worthy enough to be shown on screen without offensive stereotypes. Though I have yet to see a SWANA character that I can truly relate to, I hope that progress will eventually be made. With decent research, effort, empathy and an accurate cast of characters, the Princess Jasmines of the media can finally be left in the past for good.