When I think about self-determination, I think about Zootopia.
I know, I know. I know! But as a furry and a person of color, I was really taken by the metaphor. Here is this immense place designed so anyone can be anything they wanted to be — while also taking into consideration the realities of their existence. Small creatures are accommodated in ingenious ways. Larger creatures are given space to be comfortable while they share the world with more fragile brethren. The institutions are devoted to equity, but they’re still maintained by people struggling with distorted ideas about others. It’s a great representation of how, even in a world where everyone is devoted to a lofty ideal, we fall short of it again and again in reality.
Even though I’m very much a rabbit and he’s a fox, I really identified with Nick’s backstory as a person of color. If you haven’t seen the movie (or need a reminder), Nick was really excited to join up as a Cub Scout so he and his mom worked really hard to make it happen. When he showed up in his uniform, the rest of the troop summarily rejected him as a carnivore. He was forced into a muzzle, and as someone who grew up soaked in the imagery of their ancestors shackled in chains, that hit me where I live. Nick internalized that message by the time he finds Judy, determined to fill the role the world had set out for him as an untrustworthy rogue.
I find this to be a common story among Black Americans, and almost every minority group in the United States has to deal with that constant, invisible pressure to fulfill the roles that have been set out for us. We resist this pressure all the time, in big ways and small, but it’s always there — the need for us, the Other, to be stuffed into easily-digestible shapes. It’s rare that we’re given the space to be ourselves on our own terms, and to get along in the broader world we find ourselves slipping on the masks that are given to us.
In therapy this year, I uncovered a core belief about my inner child I hadn’t been able to pinpoint before. My family didn’t have much money growing up in inner-city Baltimore, and our home was in poor repair. The plumbing didn’t always work, and neither did the heating. Like most kids in my generation, our parents were frequently out. There were a lot of basics about self-care I didn’t learn when I was younger, and whenever I got out of my neighborhood into the better parts of town that difference became stark. Over time, I learned to see myself the way others saw me — as this dirty little awkward Black kid. I smelled bad and didn’t know how to behave around people, so of course no one wanted me around. Something about me was lacking, disagreeable, so it would be best to take up as little space and attention as possible.
I grew up thinking of the world as a hostile place filled with hostile people, and that I was a less-than-person whose lot in life was to accept whatever I got. If kindness was offered, it was because other people graced me with it — not because I was owed any decency. It wasn’t anything I could rely on or expect, so the only way to be truly safe is to be on my own. I spent my life before high school almost entirely by myself, making up games or imagining adventures or reading obsessively. I had shaped myself by the reflections I saw of myself in the people around me. It’s no wonder my self-image is so distorted.
In Zootopia, Nick is deeply hurt by Judy’s careless suggestion that predators may be unable to help themselves from going feral due to their carnivorous instincts. This person who had dragged him out of his dreary fulfillment of society’s expectations had fallen prey to the same biases that forced him into that muzzle years ago. It isn’t until Judy realizes her mistake and sincerely apologizes to him that he’s able to complete his journey of self-determination. By the end, Nick can look in the mirror and see himself as the Cub Scout he always hoped. I get that becoming a police officer is not the same thing as becoming a Cub Scout in that or any other world, but that’s a different conversation.
I can’t expect an apology from any of the forces that forced me into my own metaphorical muzzle, but I can do the work to become the version of myself I’ve always wanted to be. I’m not the dirty little gremlin I believe myself to be, and I don’t have to act like one. I can define myself and take action accordingly.
It’s so important to consciously choose who you want to be. Otherwise, for better or worse, you’ll only have the distorted mirrors around you to go by.
From the Desk of Jakebe T. Rabbit 