In recent years there has been a trend of race-swapping characters, especially in popular children’s movies. One of the most discussed examples is Ariel in The Little Mermaid, whose live-action counterpart was portrayed by a Black actress rather than a white one. Proponents of this practice argue that it offers Black children protagonists who look like them, providing representation that was historically absent from mainstream media. Another common defense is that Ariel’s race is not integral to her character and can therefore be changed without issue. However, I argue that Ariel’s race does matter because it fundamentally influences her worldview, actions, and her story’s cultural roots.
The core issue is that race, particularly in a historical or cultural context, is not simply about physical appearance but also about lived experience. Hollywood executives often justify race-swapping by claiming they are diversifying media and providing representation for underrepresented groups. However, this approach can feel superficial. Proper representation involves more than changing a character’s skin tone. It requires a thoughtful exploration of their culture, identity, and how these aspects shape their life and narrative. “The Princess and the Frog” offers an excellent example of this. Tiana, the film’s protagonist, is a Black woman whose race and cultural heritage significantly influence her story. Her ambition, resilience, and interactions with the world around her are informed by her experiences growing up in a Black community in New Orleans. The movie draws inspiration from her culture, even incorporating elements of Louisiana Creole cuisine, jazz, and the region’s history. Similarly, the villain, Dr. Facilier, embodies cultural aspects of Haitian voodoo, adding depth and authenticity to the story.
In contrast, race-swapping Ariel ignores the deeper cultural significance behind representation. Ariel’s original story, like much of the Disney canon, draws from European folklore and architecture. Her character exists within a specific cultural framework—her prince’s castle, the underwater kingdom, and the story’s aesthetic are rooted in white European traditions. Simply changing her race without adjusting these foundational elements reduces representation to a token gesture, stripping it of its authenticity. This oversimplifies Blackness to mere physicality. In truth, Ariel is not a Black Disney princess, she is a white Disney princess played by a Black actress. I argue Black kids deserve Black Disney princesses not white ones interpreted by Black actresses.
Moreover, this practice risks sidelining the demand for original Black stories and characters. Race-swapping existing characters can serve as a way for Hollywood to appear progressive while avoiding the more challenging work of crafting new stories that authentically represent diverse cultures. This approach appeases the audience with a superficial fix rather than addressing the systemic lack of diversity in storytelling. It’s like giving a child a toy controller that isn’t connected to the game—they may feel included momentarily, but they aren’t truly engaged. By race-swapping Ariel, Hollywood can point to her as an example of representation without committing to creating original, fully realized Black characters and narratives.
This practice is also inconsistent across racial groups. It is rare to see white characters race-swapped to Asian or Latina actresses, for example. This suggests that Hollywood’s motivations may not always stem from a genuine desire to improve representation but rather from a desire to capitalize on diversity as a marketing tool. And yet, Hollywood has proven its ability to tell authentic stories about different cultures when it chooses to. Movies like “Black Panther,” “Encanto,” “Mulan,” and “Aladdin” showcase diverse characters whose stories are deeply rooted in their respective cultural identities. These films succeeded because they embraced the richness of their characters’ heritage, incorporating it meaningfully into the narrative.
In the case of Ariel, I believe she should have remained white, just as Rapunzel in the upcoming live-action adaptation should also be played by a white actress. This isn’t to say that Black characters shouldn’t be featured prominently in Disney films but that they deserve original stories that authentically explore their identity and culture, like Tiana’s did. Representation matters, but it should be meaningful and grounded in the livelihood of the characters being represented. By creating original narratives that celebrate diverse cultures, Hollywood can provide true representation that resonates deeply with audiences. On top of that, from a social aspect, it could breed understanding from one culture to another.
At the end of the day, representation is about more than visibility—it’s about authenticity, respect, and a genuine commitment to diversity. Black children deserve more than race-swapped characters. They deserve characters with stories, struggles, and triumphs that reflect their own. Original Black characters and stories are not just a gift to Black audiences but a vital enrichment of media as a whole. I think we ought to demand more from Hollywood—not just for the sake of representation, but for the sake of entertainment in general.
