Moana, the “Other” Princess: Thoughts on Identity and Belonging

Guest post: by Rev. Allison Ruari

When I was three, I learned the words to “Jesus Loves the Little Children.” After hearing “Red and Yellow, Black and White/They are precious in his sight,” I had to reconcile that I was none of those colors (nor was my Samoan father). Still, I knew Jesus loved me (and my father). So what did I do? I asked questions and made the music director change the words. The new words weren’t perfect, but they served my purpose and the conversation encouraged others to think about inclusive language. Since then, I’ve found the words “colors very dark and light/ all are precious in his sight” to be quite satisfactory.

When I was five, Aladdin came out and Jasmine became my favorite princess. She was sassy and independent and brown, like me. Even at 5, I knew that we came from different places. But I also knew that I should take what I could get in terms of representation. I could change things where I was able, but I knew it was too much to expect to see anyone who looked like my family, or whose story even remotely matched my own.

So, I continued to watch Disney movies and read books that had minority characters, moving against the grain, rising to occasions and performing heroic acts. I could see myself kind of fit–not entirely, but enough for the stories to resonate. I continued to yearn to find a place of meaning, a place to fit. I used my education as an excuse to move to Los Angeles, to Nashville, to Suva (Fiji), all the while looking for something that I yearned for, but didn’t know if it existed.

Then Moana came out. And from the start, I wept.

I wept because I recognized the words as Samoan–a language I so long to speak, but don’t.

I wept because I recognized the tapa (barkcloth) and the designs used throughout the film. It was in my home growing up, on the communion table at my wedding, and in my home now reminding me of a history I haven’t fully lived.

I wept because, for the first time ever, Moana’s story of journey and call and yearning fully resonated with my journey and call and yearning to be Pacific, woman, and minister.

I wept because when I get asked the question “What are you?” (disguised as “Where are you froooom?”) I now have a reference point that is beautifully done and celebrates the best parts of the Pacific. Without colonialist underpinnings!

As much as Moana is a film to be celebrated, it also marked a sense of grief and loss for an identity and community I long for but have only experienced in small doses.

Like my new words to “Jesus loves the little children” when I was three, Moana wasn’t perfect. But it started a conversation on how to honor non-western cultures in an industry dominated by white men. It captured the essence of community and sense of identity associated with a specific place. It held the tension of being called to more than one purpose. It gave image and vision and connection points not only for myself for the whole world.

Plus my dad liked it—and he is super picky about his cultural representations in media.

Allison Ruari is the Associate Minister for Faith Formation at First Christian Church in Mansfield, OH. She lives with her husband, Jared, and their three cats. She is 6th generation clergy, dislikes being cold, and misses the Pacific.