This week we’ve turned to another artist working on a re-interpretation of that Happy Ever After syndrome. Diana Goldstein, conceptual photographer, has done a series called Fallen Princesses. If you visit her site for this project you’ll get the full experience!
Anna Percy has chosen Cinders to respond to for this Friday’s Disney Rewrite:
Ella’s a regular at the dive bar.
The tiny glasses of bubbles waved at dinner
have little charm she wants something harder
bribed a maid with stockings for a rough weave cloak
smog clothed goes out two shoed as twelve chimes
she had learned to slink silent out of rooms
her nose knew the feel of bricks more than powder
princesses have no need of pockets or bank accounts
the first time she’d filched a fine linen embroidered napkin
filled with silver tea spoons, small brooches, an engraved comb
the bar man peeled the comb from the sticky bar
wiped it with a beery towel shook his head asked her order
now some nights they let her sweep up she misses useful hands
now she’s alone with her thoughts a thick glass in her hand
although manicured they snap stems of palace glassware
never alone in a room there someone hidden attending
to every whim she wants to be alone with her thoughts
newcomers are grabbed by the wrist told to shut their mouths
familiarity dulls satin’s sheen, the glow of her hair.
Anna Percy is an inherent feminist, author of Livid Among the Ghostings published by Flapjack press described as ‘tender, angry, grief-stricken and joyful’ (Steven Waling). She blogs at http://www.mostlynocturnalscribbler.wordpress.com. You can find her performing at Stirred poetry monthly and at Shaken, her night for prose and poetry at Fab cafe.
I’d also like to take this chance to draw attention to Against Rape, an online protest. Here is an extract from a poem pertitent considering our Disney Rewrite emphasis:
brushes the hair of her princess dolls, wears a tiara
and writes little stories about becoming a princess,
and this I don’t mind. We talk about
what a princess represents, her qualities
of self-worth, integrity, what femininity really is.
Then she asks me to read one of her fairy tale books,
but I cringe at the self-sacrificing narratives of female-as-
secondary, as helpless – and one day I can’t stop myself,
I pull out all her books and discard the ones
I cannot bring myself to narrate.
Extract from Now That I Have Daughters by Carolyn Jess-Cooke. See the full poem at: