Phase 3: Original
The Little Mermaid and The Tragedy of Queer Lives
The self-proclaimed ‘Ugly Duckling’ and world renowned fairy tale author, Hans Christian Andersen, wrote a stunning one hundred and sixty fairy tales with his life as his primary source of inspiration. While an author’s perspectives, views, and ideals will always manage to seep into their work somehow, Andersen never failed to turn a passing interaction into a world ripe with story building and detail. Hans Christian Andersen has had an incredibly lasting impact on the world; from his stories being transformed into famous pop-culture references, to having an award named after him as an international award for authors who have “made an important, lasting contribution to children’s literature” (IBBY Award). People from across the world are drawn to his fairy tales, retelling them across different cultures with their own twists and interpretations of his works. Yet while Andersen was described as a great Danish national poet, he lived a rather solitary life in Fyn, silently adoring many lovers at a distance. He was constantly infatuated with those he could never possibly attain. It wasn’t rejection that made him hesitate, no– it was something greater; persecution. Not only romantically interested in women, he also found himself adoring men, writing letters and having not-so-secret rendezvous with them. But in 19th century Denmark, these feelings that came so naturally to everyone would result in persecution for him and many members of the “gay male subculture” all across the world. Unable to express these emotions, Andersen turned to writing, and wrote as he always did in letters with ineffable care and diligence. “The Little Mermaid” was drawn from the inspiration of one of Andersen’s lovers; a man by the name of Edvard Collins, whom he adored deeply. An artist’s deepest desires will always come through in their works, despite how much one tries to smother them, and even Andersen claimed that “The Little Mermaid” was “the only one of his fairy tales which moved him as he wrote it” (Sur La Lune). Analysts and readers alike have combed through “The Little Mermaid”, such an iconic piece of Dutch literature, and discovered a striking likeness between the little mermaid and her creator. There is suffering, grief, hope, and longing that resonates so vividly throughout the fairy tale and Andersen’s letters. Despite nearly two centuries after the fairy tale was published, one thing holds true; “The Little Mermaid” represents the inherent tragedy of queer lives with its themes of unrequited romance, isolation, and sacrifice.
While Andersen was an awkward young man, he was an incredibly talented young author. He had a tendency to draw aspects of his life into his works, which very clearly became mirror reflections of his true, concealed emotions. The more he wrote, however, the more relationships he formed with powerful figures in Denmark, and thus, the more people he became deeply infatuated with. He was quick to fall in love, and even quicker to throw these relationships away. Dag Heede, an associate professor of Danish Literature at the University of Southern Denmark was provided an opportunity to write a book reviewing motifs in Andersen’s works. Having done extensive research on his life and background, Heede discovered a critic, Jens Andersen, had suggested that Andersen’s many male lovers were a “source of great pleasure, creativity and also distress, pain and unhappiness (Heede 412). Building off Jens Andersen, Heede argued that the reason this was so significant was because most of the fairy tales Hans Christian Andersen wrote were based on his previous romantic interests. One such story born from these romantic escapades was “The Little Mermaid”, whose story closely mirrored Andersen’s own experiences. Deeply enamoured with the human prince, the little mermaid could only dream he would love her back with the same passion she held for him. As a close companion to the prince, the little mermaid witnessed firsthand the moment her prince, her beloved, discovered his one true love.
“Oh, I am too happy,” said he to the little mermaid; “my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness for your devotion to me is great and sincere.” The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken (Andersen 581-582).
She had longed for the prince at a distance for a great time, ever since she was under the waves, but she was always unable to tell the prince how much she truly cared for him. Rosellen Brown, an instructor of English and creative writing classes, explains that the reason why the prince saw the princess as a partner over the little mermaid was because she was of her silence/ She was essentially “‘deprived of her voice, of her personality, her self, left only with her looks’” (Sur La Lune) and became only a husk of her former self– she is insufficient, and it is assumed that she cannot love the prince back when compared to a speaking woman. Despite her grief, she cannot help but continue to love him, even as her hour of death is upon her. “All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart” (Andersen 583). Her silence and inability to express her affections for the prince represented Andersen’s silence in the public eye, unable to express his love to Collins until it was far too late. Andersen cared deeply about him, yet could not tell him directly how much he cared because of a government that would persecute him. After Collins told him he was to be wed to a woman and quickly tried to reassure Andersen by calling him a worthy friend, Andersen responded, agonized, “Why do you call me your ‘worthy friend?’ I don’t want to be worthy! That is the most insipid, boring word you could use” (Famous Bis) He was frustrated, heartbroken, and devastated. He wanted to spend a domestic life with him, to hear his laughter, and not just remain another companion to the man whom he so deeply loved. I would imagine that this pain and grief was shared universally across time; how many young boys would smile and watch the boy they’ve had a crush on for years kiss a girl in their class? How many friends would cheerfully congratulate their friend after she announces she’s to be married the next week, while silently, painfully, agonizing over what could have been? How many little mermaids would smile and let live, despite how much it ached knowing she would only ever be a trusted confidant, but never more? How many people would fall in love time and time again, yet never being able to love and be loved back without fear? It is a global pandemic that sweeps the world– in every queer community in every town there is someone who grieves a life they could have had, their romantic affections never being able to be returned.
‘Closeted’ is a phrase that many queer members are far too familiar with. The idea that one has to masquerade and ‘act-as-if’ they are someone other than themselves to be accepted into a society or face rejection from their peers is a common weight many queer people feel. Anti-gay rhetoric was established as law, and many had to remain hidden in order to avoid persecution and death. This fear that they would be hurt if they even dared to show the slightest of ‘improper’ emotion drove a barrier between the world and the queer communities. The feeling of being alone while still being surrounded by others is the feeling of isolation, felt in the lives of those forced to hide an incredibly human part of themselves. Humans are naturally social creatures who crave interaction with others, so isolation is such a detrimental yet prevalent issue many members of the queer community face. Even though the little mermaid has a pair of human legs and is content while being at the prince’s side, she still feels isolated and alone. While she is not treated poorly, she finds it difficult to connect with others as she is mute. She can only express herself through dancing and her beauty, each which are only taken at face value. As she listens to one of the female slaves and witnesses the prince clap and smile for her, the little mermaid laments that she could sing much better, thinking that, “‘Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever to be with him’” (Andersen 577). The insurmountable isolation of being part of the greater world while still being so distant from everyone else is an issue most members of the queer community felt, unable to connect to people within and outside of their community out of fear and concern for their safety. So they remain hidden, isolated, closeted, bottling up their emotions as this loneliness festers and eats at them. The scene in which the little mermaid stands, waiting, at the edge of the wedding ship is the perfect depiction of pure isolation. What was once so lively and vibrant falls silent;
Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for the first ray of dawn that would bring her death (Andersen 583).
It would seem that her last moments alive in this present, waking world would be spent alone, unable to mourn, and simply basking in the life that she had spent with the prince– “This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea” (Andersen 583). One could see these last few moments of life spent envisioning her one true love as something out of desperation, which goes hand in hand with isolation. If isolated enough, one becomes desperate and longs for an experience, or some form of catharsis to release these bottled up emotions. Initially made in 2017, Queering the Map is a website that acts as a digital archive for recording the ‘queer experience’. With an estimated 91,000 personal anecdotes as of mid-2020, it catalogs the niche, the personal, and the countless unique experiences of queer love and affection. Emma Kirby, a Scientia Associate Professor at the University of New South Wales sees these anonymous anecdotes as “stories for someone”, and dives into the isolation inherent in the queer community. Kirby recalls the desire that many anecdotes shared to simply just ‘belong’ within a community, and remarks that the anonymity removed the mask that they would wear in their day to day lives to avoid being ‘outed’. Yet these passages also revealed how people would isolate themselves with the fear of rejection and being hated, feelings that should not be so commonly paired with ‘young love’ but unfortunately, was, within the queer community. Several examples are filled with sentiments of longing and yearning for those they left behind, unable to mend their errors;
“I broke your heart here / after you left me for the bright lights of a bigger city /you needed to go and I become a better person for it. More secure in yourself. More content with your complexities and queerness. Im still sorry I broke your heart here [City suburbia]”…“id fantasize about grabbing you by the face and kissing you here but i knew it would be dangerous and wrong, and i was terrified to fuck up what we had. I still am. [High school, city fringe]” (Kirby et. al 1050-1052).
Yet there are also several anecdotes that express the deep desire of longing and belonging. Isolation draws out a fear that people have; a fear of being othered, and a fear of rejection, yet Queering the Map, a completely anonymous site, relieves these fears;
“Does she know how much I think she’s perfection? How much I am attracted to her, body and soul? Does she know that a jolt of electricity courses through my body when our hands happen to brush? Oh colleague, how I wish to tell you of my love. You ignite my queer like nothing before. [Regional hospital]” (Kirby et al. 1053).
But the desire to love in each of these anecdotes were overwhelmed by the urge to distance oneself from their identity. Loneliness is common in every nook and cranny of the word, yet the history of judgment and prosecution lays deep roots in the queer community. Even now, in a more accepting era, queer members isolate themselves from others in an effort to draw a line bewteen their true identities and their present selves.
Sacrifice plays an incredibly integral role in “The Little Mermaid”. The little mermaid’s sacrifice to give up her tongue and tail for a pair of human legs to have the briefest chance to marry the prince catapults her into a gamble for her life. With dogged determination, she is solidly set that the prince, her prince, is
“certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul” (Andersen 571).
While this may be seen as foolish, her love for the prince speaks much louder than rationale. When one loves someone else, they exchange one thing for another; they exchange time for attention, money for gifts, effort for affection, et. cetera. But for the little mermaid, she was simply giving her time, effort, and mental health for something she could never possibly attain– a sacrifice. Sacrifice can easily be explained as in “giving, but never taking”. Not out of fear or worry or concern, but simply because they are unable to take back. It is an act of giving something valued for the sake of something else that is more ‘worthy’ or ‘important’ than what is being given. As the little mermaid realizes that the prince had found his princess and was set to marry her, she realizes that,
this was the last evening she should ever see her prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it (Andersen 583).
She had given and given everything she had in order to attempt to make the prince fall in love with her, and she only fell in love with him more only to face her demise as a result. A moment that speaks so very clearly on the little mermaid’s grief is when her sisters, after sacrificing their precious hair to save their sister, present her with a knife that she must use to kill the prince in order to transform back into a mermaid.
She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves (Andersen 584).
Unable to bring herself to harm the prince whom she so deeply loved, the little mermaid was willing to sacrifice herself to ensure he would live long and happily. Sur La Lune introduces their own interpretation of the mermaid’s sacrifices, which are “likened to Andersen’s own suffering and failures as he fought for his desired place in the world” (Sur La Lune). Andersen had spent years pining after men and women who could never possibly love him back, sacrificing everything he had to court them while facing failure again and again, and again. For many closeted queers, the romance and affection they felt was always one-sided, yet they continued to care about their beloved regardless as a close companion, their best friend, their confidant. Despite the effort they put into trying to stifle their feelings, they never hardly ever gained anything in return. Love requires effort, but for many queer members who were forced to remain hidden, it was only a sacrifice of this effort and their emotional wellbeing.
“The Little Mermaid” is an incredibly emotional story about a girl who wants to love and be loved back. Yet deep down, it is incredibly devastating. It reveals the innermost anguish and pain of those who have wanted to be loved, and cleverly reveals the turmoil of a hidden ‘subculture’. Critics might protest that a children’s fairy tale should not be turned into a queer allegory, yet some must, and especially Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid”. “The Little Mermaid” was written with the tragedy of queer lives extremely present in mind; it took great inspiration from Andersen’s silence with Collins to his bisexuality but seemingly only in spirit. He wrote with longing and the hopes of making others feel his grief too, and he has left behind a vibrant legacy in which “The Little Mermaid” shines the brightest of all. Lewis C. Seifert, a professor of French Literature at Brown University, says that queer reading practices ”exposes the unexpected, familiar, and unpredictable” (Seifert 17).The ‘queering’ of fairytales– analyzing them through queer lenses –provides a different perspective and a newer method of analysis. Understanding that what is on the page is not always black and white and in fact, is up for interpretation, is a critical skill that most readers and analysts should be able to utilize. Bettleheim states, in The Uses of Enchantment, that a
fairy tale, in contrast, leaves all decisions up to us, including whether we wish to make any at all. It is up to us whether we wish to make any application to our life from a fairy tale, or simply enjoy the fantastic events it tells about. Our enjoyment is what induces us to respond in our good time to the hidden meanings, as they may relate to our life experience and present state of personal development” (Bettelheim 43).
Queer lives are incredibly vast and varied, hidden away in plain sight or buried beneath decades and centuries of homophobia. Excluded from history for so long, having queer interpretations of classic literature brings education and intrigue to the lives of those that were here and those now gone. Acceptance not only helps members of the current queer community feel content as just a person, but as a collective– a collective that has always dreamed they’d be part of one’s world.
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