The World Wants My Kid To Be a Dickhead
Not That She Needs Much Help
“Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of an English man.” The giant chased Jack who was fleeing down the beanstalk. When Jack reached the bottom he fetched an axe and with a thwack thwack thwack, he chopped down the beanstalk with the giant still climbing down, thereby murdering his innocent victim after already robbing him of his hen and harp.
One thing I’m learning as I drag my unwilling toddler into the world of literature is that kids' books are all fucking horrific.
The message of the story seems to be either that the height of a girl’s ambition should be to marry someone handsome or that all your problems can be solved with theft and violence.
Looking for love? Stick a pea under an unsuspecting girl’s mattress and force her to marry you.
Tired and hungry? Break into someone’s house, steal their porridge, and sleep in their bed
Impoverished and stupid enough to trade a cow for a handful of beans? Steal a tall person’s golden chicken then murder them as they try to retrieve it.
But we’re supposed to believe that it’s rap music and violent computer games that are corrupting our children.
I’d much rather read her The Gruffalo, which seems to be saying to our children that it’s OK to lie your way out of trouble; still morally dubious, but at least a practically applicable lesson. Even that one is a struggle though, as my voice for the Gruffalo character is very deep, rasping, and, so I’m told, a little bit noncey.
Kids' books are a minefield
And films are not much better. It seems every Disney film from before about 2008 has got some sort of warning message at the beginning because, you know, it was OK to be racist back then.
And why have all the villains got some sort of disability or disfigurement? How is it that a missing hand or a growth on the end of their nose automatically denotes that a character is evil? And obviously, the beast becomes handsome after he falls in love because to not be conventionally attractive is a curse that must be cured at all costs.
And why, while we’re at it, are there no messages on Disney film films warning that it is not OK for a princess to be getting married at about 13 years of age? These are not young women that have lived a life, experienced the world around them, and made the informed choice to share their life with another. Just because touching kids was more socially acceptable in the 60s doesn’t mean we have to teach our own kids to start getting jiggy with it while they’re still wearing Pokémon pyjamas.
In fact, fuck it, let them just watch Pokémon instead. Let them learn how to enslave animals, trap them in tiny balls and make the fight to the death.
The world is doomed.
Hello there, thanks for stopping by
If you like what you’ve read here give me a follow and have a flick through my other stories