SNOW WHITE GETS HER SAY
chris wind
Smashwords Edition
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Published
on Smashwords by:
Snow
White Gets Her Say
Copyright 1991, 2011 by chris wind
Cover by Donna Casey based on a design by chris wind
Formatting
and layout design by Elizabeth Beeton
wind,
chris
Snow White Gets Her Say / chris wind
ISBN
978-1-926891-09-5
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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also by chris wind
Thus Saith Eve
UnMythed
Deare Sister
Soliloquies: The Lady Doth Indeed Protest
Satellites Out of Orbit*
Particivision and other stories
Paintings and Sculptures
Excerpts
dreaming of kaleidoscopes
“Snow White Gets Her Say” is available in print as part of chris wind’s Satellites Out of Orbit (2nd edition), titled “And We All”.
* Satellites Out of Orbit contains the four books listed above it as well as this book.
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CONTENTS
•
Appendix
(summaries
of the ‘original’ fairy tales)
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We read fables in school to teach us a lesson. And we read fairy tales at bedtime to put us asleep. And indeed they do: especially those of us, a full half of the human species, who are lulled lower and lower into a semi-conscious state by their lessons.
Remember “Hansel and Gretel”? The one about a little boy and a little girl. Who was me. Not particularly proud of it, but there you go. I didn’t write the story. I didn’t intend those lessons.
That, first, women are deceitful. There are two women in the story, the stepmother and the witch. And both of them lie to us. When Hansel and I are taken into the forest to be left there to die, my stepmother says “We’ll come back for you.” And later, when we meet the witch, she assures us she will “do us no harm”. But of course they didn’t and she did. Both women used deceit to achieve their goals.
That, second, women aren’t very intelligent. It was my stepmother’s idea that a good solution to the food shortage was to leave us in the forest. Why not kill and eat the pigeon or the cat first? Why not hunt for squirrels and rabbits? The witch, as well, wasn’t too brilliant when she climbed into the oven to give a little demonstration.
That, third, little boys are competent and resourceful (and therefore can, and do, take care of little girls, like me). The first time we were taken into the forest, it was Hansel who thought to unravel a spool of thread behind us so we could find our way back. The second time, again he planned for our survival, leaving a trail of crumbs to mark our path. Clever though this was, he didn’t think about the birds, who ate the crumbs. I was quite resigned to our fate; it was Hansel who refused to give up so easily. Well, as you know, we found our way to a house, but it belonged to the witch and she locked Hansel in a cage. Still using his head, he held out a bone instead of his finger each time she checked to see if he was fat enough to eat.
However, if you’ve read the story, you’ll know that, notwithstanding this glowing portrait of my brother, I’m the real hero: it was my cleverness that saved us. You’ll remember that the witch told me to creep into the oven to see if it was hot enough to bake the bread. I knew, of course, that she was going to slam the door shut and bake me instead. So, I said, ever so sweetly, “I do not know how I am to do it, how do I get in?” You know the rest, I’m sure: she showed me, I shut the door on her, and then I rescued Hansel and together we escaped.
What bothers me is that I had to be clever in that way. To this day, I resent having had to resort to that ‘dumb blond’ ploy. To begin with, because it’s just that—a ploy, a disguise, a deceit; and it teaches us that pretence is our best method of operation. So we pretend to be something we’re not to get what we want, be it life, love, whatever. But more than that, I resent the ploy because it teaches us that for a woman, ignorance is valuable: it is her defence, her weapon, her salvation.
Why is that so dangerous a lesson, since my ignorance really is just a ploy, and not genuine? Because habits of behaviour become habits of thought which become habits of belief. If I spend most of my life acting like I’m stupid, people will think that I am. And then it’s just a short step to actually becoming what people already believe I am.
But if we wake up, we all will live ever after.
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Poor little Cinderella! Who more deserving of finding her prince and turning into a princess! Yeah, right.
First off, Cinderella did not have to do all the hardest work in the house. Our stepfather was a man of rank, remember, and my mother no peasant; we had fine rooms and beautiful clothes, and status enough to be invited to the King’s ball. So we certainly had maids and servants to scrub the floors and wash the dishes. Cinderella offered to help with the work. Probably because she had nothing else to do; she didn’t seem interested in much besides pleasing people. Drove me crazy.
And she did not have to sleep “in a straw bed in a poor room at the top of the house”. Think her father would put up with that? Certainly not. She had a perfectly good bedroom just like the rest of us.
The story goes that my sister and I were proud. True enough. What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with being proud of what you can do, of what you’ve worked hard to learn well? All those gorgeous clothes people kept talking about were of my sister’s making—she was into fashion design. And as for me, well, it was known I could ride a horse to win most competitions in the land. So sure we were proud. But vain? Yes, we spent a lot of time in front of that full-length mirror: my sister had to see the effect of her creations (and so I suppose she’s as vain as one gets in that line of work), and as a favour, especially on days too wet or too cold for the horses to be out, I often modeled her half-finished pieces for her. But that’s it. I wasn’t even good-looking, by contemporary standards, no peaches and cream in my complexion!
And it’s true, Cinderella wasn’t invited to the ball. But only because the King thought she was too young. And we certainly didn’t snub her like you think. We called her into our rooms and asked her for advice on our clothes, to make her feel part of the excitement. She liked that, you know how younger sisters are, she wanted to iron this and mend that—we even let her do our hair.