At a glance, Aladdin is everything you’d ever want from a Disney movie. A story about love, magic, and a light-hearted genie, all amidst sparkling song and dance numbers of course, provides for an endearing tale familiar to Disney fans across the world. I, too, looked up to Jasmine as a kid. For her confidence, for her free-spirit, but mostly because she looked a lot like me. As I got older, that attachment would fade away. Aladdin is just a poor rendition of what a room of middle-aged white men think the Middle East looks like. Agrabah, the film’s fictional city, is painted as the center for heavily accented, money-grabbing street merchants. More than that, “It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home!” the leading track of the movie says.
Regardless of its stereotypes, Aladdin still deals with a slew of other problems. Jasmine, the main female character (and the only female character with more than three lines of dialogue for that matter) is overtly sexualized over the course of the entire movie. While the women commoners in Agrabah are clad in hijabs and modest clothing, fitting for this supposed region of the Middle East, Jasmine severely lacks any indications of culture in her physical appearance. Disney being Disney, Jasmine and Aladdin are very obviously light-skinned, which doesn’t sit well when you place the light-skinned protagonists next to the darker-skinned villain of the movie, Jafar. Simply put, Aladdin exists as a lame excuse for xenophobia, racial microaggressions, and sexualization. You’d think that after the host of issues this movie carries, its cast would make up for it. Alas, you’ll be disappointed to hear that Aladdin, a movie Disney paraded for its representation and take on a non-white narrative, had a cast devoid a single Arab or South Asian actor.