I am not going to try to convince you that Pocahontas isn’t, to say the least, problematic. There might come a day when I may try to convince you that Pocahontas has some of the best songs in Disney history, or that Pocahontas looks the best of all the Disney Renaissance films. However, I will never try to convince you that it was a good idea to take the true story of the English colonization of the Native Americans and the kidnap and rape of a teenage girl and turn it into a musical, nor will I pretend that my favorite Disney couple being Pocahontas and John Smith doesn’t have horrifying implications.

By the way, my favorite Disney couple is Pocahontas and John Smith.

In an ideal world, I could talk about Pocahontas and John Smith without addressing the giant bigoted elephant in the room, but as I've learned from the billions of drafts of this article, you simply cannot do that. Therefore, I split this article into two conveniently named parts!

Part 1 - The Part Before I Actually Make My Point Where I Hopefully Buy A Little Insurance To Protect Myself From Any Future Shame And The Paranoid And Slightly Narcissistic Belief That An Internet Mob May One Day Come After Me, Knowing Full Well That If Said Delusional Fever Dream Were To Ever Come True, It Probably Wouldn’t Work And This Road Leads Nowhere But Regret.

Though I remember seeing it when I was a kid, I effectively watched Pocahontas for the first time last year. I was fully prepared to hate every second of it. This is Pocahontas, after all. It has the worst reputation of any Disney movie possibly since Song of the South and nary a fellow millennial can even think of the movie without a faint racist bell ringing in the back of their head. This is supposedly Disney whitewashing at its finest. This is a huge, mostly white ran mega-corporation making a movie about colonization and race relations. Obviously, they were going to fuck it up.

Thus I watched with my daggers out, and though I never really found myself that offended or disgusted, I did wonder whether I should be. Some of the depictions of Native American culture and lifestyle certainly seem stereotypical, but I don’t want to make arguments based on what feels true rather than solid information. (You need only observe your Facebook newsfeed to see why.)

So I hit the ol’ internets to read some articles and hopefully gain some perspective. Turns out the reaction to the movie is not only mixed, but for my purposes, shockingly unhelpful. The Powhatan tribe dismisses the film outright, and one need not break JSTOR to find articles with similar sentiments. Russell Means, the voice of Chief Powhatan and an outspoken activist for Native American rights, said Pocahontas was “the single finest work ever done on American Indians by Hollywood.” Obviously, it could be said that Means was a tad bit compromised, and there are plenty of counter articles calling Means a sellout. Still, for every article from a reputable source damning the movie’s depictions of Native Americans, there’s one praising it, and the cycle goes on in a circle, in a hoop that never ends.

And so, begrudgingly, I had to actually form my own opinion like some sort of reasonable person or… whatever.

Of course Pocahontas isn’t historically accurate in terms of the actual events. I don’t know what everyone expected, nor do I understand why people turn to fiction for historical accuracy in the first place. However, I think it’s clear whose side the film takes, and where your sympathies should lie. In the film, Native American life is peaceful and ideal. They’ve found true happiness. However, we’ve already heard the white settlers sing of “glory, god, and gold,” and when Pocahontas sees the sails of the ship on the horizon, we know that whatever contentment the Native Americans found is about to be shattered.

Quietly one of the more foreboding shots Disney's ever done.

Earlier in my college years, I had to read a play written in 1808 by James Nelson Barker called The Indian Princess. It’s an earlier take on the Pocahontas story, only with more horrifying implications. Pocahontas winds up with John Rolfe, and in the battle for Pocahontas’s soul, the world of the white man wins. (Word of the day: Psychomachia. A battle for the soul. Thank you, liberal arts college!) So as I watched the Disney version, I kept waiting for Pocahontas to inevitably choose western culture and whisk off with John Smith to England. Surprisingly, it never came. The movie gives Pocahontas the choice to become a “civilized” woman in Europe far away from her home, and she chooses to stay with her people. White culture tried to win her soul, but she fought back and won.

Of course I think the way we perceive the treatment of Native Americans, and Hollywood’s role in that perception, matters a great deal. However, I just can’t bring myself to feel that strongly about anything Pocahontas may or may not have done wrong. Hypothetical: One comes up to me on the street and says, “Hey, get mad at Pocahontas for X, Y, and Z.” My response will be “Statistically speaking, police shoot Native Americans at far too high a rate, and certain states seem bent on restricting their voter rights, and I care more about the immediate bodily harm and rights of those this country has wronged then your emotions over a Disney movie.”

In reality, however, every aspect of the conversation about Native Americans is important. Though we shouldn’t quantify misery, the genocide of the Native Americans might be the worst act humanity has ever committed. Given the sheer vastness of the mistreatment of the Native Americans, the horrors of which I don’t think we have even begun to deal with, it’s hard for me to have strong feelings about a twenty year old cartoon musical. I realize I might be wrong. I really can't tell anymore.

Part Two - The Part Where I Actually Make My Point

Now that I’ve spent a whole bunch of time not making my point, let me make my point. Pocahontas and John Smith make my favorite Disney couple because their relationship is not based on superficiality or some old world standard of marriage and monogamy, but rather mutual respect, a compatible set of standards for themselves and the people around them, and the ability to inspire one another.

Ariel climbs up the side of the ship and sees a cute boy. He’s presented with a statue of himself, and before he knows it, a storm bears down on him. He saves the dog, the ship blows up, and Ariel drags him to shore and sings to him. He regains consciousness, she runs away, and as he leaves in the distance, we get the famous “Part of Your World” shot.

What does Ariel actually see in Prince Eric? What qualities does he have that would drive a young woman to literally change species to be with him? Sure, he saves the cute animal and he has a symmetrical face, but we expect those things from a Disney male. He clearly doesn’t like the statue, but it’s important to note he doesn’t outright reject it. If one were to present me with a statue of myself, my response would be something more in line with, “It is terrifying that you have done this. Please get the fuck away from me right now.”

"Take me in your arms, white stranger with proportionally balanced facial features! I FUCKING LOVE HOLLYWOOD!" *Snort*

That’s it. That’s what starts off a crazy adventure where a teenaged girl sacrifices her literal and metaphorical voice for the sake of a cute boy she doesn’t actually know. For the amount of devotion Ariel has for Eric, Eric does remarkably little to earn it. Or actually drive the story forward. Or distinguish himself in any meaningful way. He can’t even “Kiss The Girl” without being prompted to by a singing crab.

When Pocahontas first sees John Smith, he’s admiring the stunning beauty of her homeland. He even ignores his responsibilities to the rest of the crew just to get a better look. He’s entranced, and she notices. He’s then confronted by Meeko, Pochontas’s surprisingly non-verbal raccoon friend, and instead of flaying him alive he gives him a biscuit. Smith plays with the cute animal just like Eric, but there’s a key difference. We already know John Smith is a hunter. Unlike Eric’s dog, Meeko is not his property. When he pulls his knife on Meeko, there’s nothing stopping him from killing him right then and there.

Sure, John Smith’s also a cute boy and his feeding Meeko is your basic Save The Cat stuff, but it also suggests something deeper: They share similar values. He has the same admiration for the land as she does. He shares the same sense of adventure Pocahontas sung about in “Just Around the Riverbend.” He’s capable of kindness, and thinks before killing. If he stabbed Meeko, he would’ve proved cruel and violent. He’d still be a hot dude, but he’d be more like Kocoum, and we already know Pocahontas wants nothing to do with that.

Ariel and Eric’s relationship doesn’t have time to grow, as he spends most of his time attracted to another woman. Pocahontas and John have nothing but time, and they use it well. During “Mine, Mine, Mine,” John reveals that his intentions may not be as noble as we think they are. He’s an admitted murderer of Native Americans, but he’s pulled a tiny bit into our favor through Pocahontas observing him. Then he announces in the song his intentions to “tame” the land and civilize it.

Soon afterwards though, he meets Pocahontas, and she’s too beautiful to kill. She learns his language through the power of, um, love or nature or something. (I won’t pretend that this part isn’t ridiculous.) The next time we see them together, they have an exchange of language and cultural ideas. He teaches her the handshake and the compass, but then he tells her about the concept of western cities, and how they’re better than the native villages. He’s condescending and vulgar, and she’s rightfully offended. She then sings “Colors of the Wind” to him, a song about kindness, unity, and being open to the world around you without having to change it.

If I don't add pictures, the post will look boring and you'll have less of an incentive to keep reading. This article's getting away from me.

And he hears her. He doesn’t want to “Mine, Mine, Mine” anymore. He doesn’t want to kill. He even talks to Grandmother Willow, something not everyone seems to be capable of doing. The forests of what will, unfortunately, be called Virginia are more a home to him now than anywhere he’s ever been, and this proves that’s he capable of change.

When I say, “change,” I don’t mean it in the sense that he’s going to start using coasters or wearing bright polos or whatever bullshit definition of “change” was spoon fed to us by some comedy writer in the ‘80s. I mean that he can recognize that he’s been living a harmful lifestyle with serious consequences, and he can take steps to improve it. He can live the life of Ratcliffe or of Pocahontas. He chooses Pocahontas.

In the beginning of the movie, Powhatten pressures Pocahontas to marry Kocoum, the hardened Powhatan warrior. Although Kocoum comes off as kind of a dinosaur, he does seem to care about her. His steadfast personality alienates Pocahontas because she craves adventure and he wants stability. He’s a warrior down to the bone, and Pochontas doesn’t like the idea of one who isn’t open to the world. Kocoum is then killed by the colonists, but Pocahontas doesn’t choose vengeance or war. She chooses forgiveness, and by the end, she becomes a leader for her people as her love interest departs back to England. She chooses the stability she was so afraid of when the story started.

Pocahontas and John Smith have arcs that mirror each other. Both characters begin as sharks, constantly having to move in order to avoid their version of drowning. By the end of their story they both return home, capable of change, thus fulfilling the final step in the hero's journey. (Or more specifically, Dan Harmon's Story Circle.) Pocahontas and John Smith certainly evolve, but they never would have gotten there if it weren’t for each other. They challenge one another, and force themselves to grow in the same way that anyone who enters our lives should. It’s not romantic destiny, and it’s not "pretty boy meets pretty girl and they must make pretty babies." It’s two people who learn to care for each other, and by doing so, improve their own lives and everybody else’s around them.

And they don’t even wind up together.

As well crafted as their romance may be, we soon have to remind ourselves of the ugly racial connotations behind all this. You can change the true story all you want, but as long as Pocahontas falls for a white man, you’re going to test the boundaries of your modern audience, as well as your pop culture bloggers.

I’m left to wonder why I’m so forgiving of Pocahontas. I think part of it is that, again, Pocahontas doesn’t go to England with her new white man to be more like whites. I also think part of it is the ephemeral nature of their relationship that revels in the idea of “What if this didn’t end in a disease-ridden bloodbath?”

But in the end, I think it’s the people. Pocahontas effectively uses the humanity of its characters in a way that a lot of movies about Native Americans do not. Each character has layers, and this makes you sympathize with all parties in a way that you wouldn’t if this was another bland white savior movie. Pocahontas herself has a grand vision of unity for the world, but she’s naïve, and it leads everyone in her life into trouble. John Smith was a happy-go-lucky murderer, then he’s introduced to a new outlook, and now he has to rethink his whole life. He might even choose death to atone. Chief Powhatten is wise with perspective, but he’s too stuck in tradition, and it almost leads to his daughter’s murder. Kocoum is a warrior through and through. He attacks John Smith out of pure jealousy, but the movie still treats his death like a tragedy. (Perhaps this is the reason Governor Ratcliffe doesn’t stand out as much as many a Disney villain, as he’s just one note evil.)

Pocahontas treats the Native Americans like actual human beings, flaws and all. What you find sympathetic is up to you, but that element makes me feel closer to the Native Americans in the film, even if the story is ultimately a fantasy conjured up to smooth over a mass slaughter. I'll probably never be comfortable with my relationship with Pochahontas. But I can say that, to me, in this particular movie, the Native Americans feel more like human beings than sympathetic props. That's more than I can say about most films.