Empathy from Above

A long time ago, like maybe two years, a family member bought my daughter a CD box set of fairy tales with accompanying books. Since we steer fairly clear of electronic entertainment for our kids, a pink Cinderella CD with musical accompaniment was a very exciting prospect for her, and before I could say, "Let me look at that," a well-meaning adult had put it in the CD player.


Now, I like to think of myself as a fairly modern frum parent, and I want my kids to learn about the world outside their own community, at the right time and in the right ways. I don't want to shelter them unnecessarily, but I very quickly developed deep reservations about Cinderella in general and this version in particular. To justify: it opens with several very difficult concepts for any tiny child: a mother dead, a stepmother wicked, and sisters mean and nasty, not to mention the focus on their unfortunate appearance. It continues, via some sisterly meanness and fanciful magic spells, to a party where the heroine not only meets and talks to but dances hand in hand with a man she has never met and knows little about other than that he is rich, and ends with a wedding, an automatically happy heroine, and ugly stepsisters of increased jealousy.



There isn't one part of this story which I believe my children could benefit from. There are a few parev parts, but nothing actually good.

Beauty and the Beast, on the other hand, I was happy to devote time to. Here we have a father forced to choose a daughter to go to the beast's palace, and a good and gracious daughter willing to go. A hideous and sad beast offers hospitality and politely requests marriage. Lacking knowledge of the beast, the daughter politely declines. Beast later allows daughter to return home to tend to her sick father, and daughter's pining for beast tells her that she now indeed wants to marry him, in spite of his frightening appearance and because of his care and concern for her in the palace. Upon their marriage, and because of her love, he becomes a handsome prince and the two live in shalom bayis ever after. What better model of sameach b'chelko?

Unfortunately for Beauty and the Beast, it was green in the box set, and featured scary pictures of the beast, so after a cursory glance, my daughter didn't permit me even to show it to her unopened, much less read it.

Cinderella, the book, I consigned to a 'give away' box and dispatched to a charity shop shortly thereafter, but somehow Cinderella the CD continued to be found, and lacking the courage at that stage in my parenting career to state 'it's not suitable', I grudgingly played the intro song and here and there forgot to turn it off before the offending story. Eventually, having had enough, I put it on a high shelf and told my daughter that I wasn't sure where it was, this being true, since I hadn't memorised which precise position in the pile of CDs it was in.

My daughter never forgot Cinderella. She would wistfully remember it and even look for it, talk about it, sing the theme song and sigh - a little like I used to when I realised I had lost my favourite REM album, Automatic for the People - and a flutter of guilt would beset me anew each time.

Today, somehow, she found it. Perhaps it was moved at Pesach time, perhaps a cleaner moved it, perhaps gravity or perhaps the hand of Hashem itself somehow propelled it into her hand, and with glee she skipped into the kitchen to show me the delightful discovery. "Oh, wonderful," I said. "Well done. Let's put it here where the little ones won't reach it until after the Omer."

This evening, while tidying the kitchen I came across the darned thing and realised I had to decide what to do with it. Should I hope she forgets? Re-hide it? Come clean and explain why I don't think it is suitable? Offer to trade it in for a more suitable CD? I picked it up, and felt something detach from the back of it. I slid apart the two pieces, and found myself holding a second CD: REM - Automatic for the People.

I kid you not.

I lost this album before we even moved into this house. Before the Cinderella CD was bought, for sure. I'd pined for its power to deepen any misery I didn't feel ready to let go of yet, to justify and magnify any wallowing I was indulging in. I'd had it since university, since before I was frum, and it represented a cooler, savvier, me - a far less spiritual and, if I may say so, less accomplished, but free-er me. A me it wasn't so helpful to pine for. As for the lyrics, well, I don't think there's anything I could actually benefit from. There are a few parev parts, but nothing actually good.

I can't escape the symmetry or the timing or the obvious Divinity here. But the question is, what's the message? Given that I'm sitting here listening to Track 4, you'd be forgiven for thinking that I plan on returning Cinderella to its rightful owner. But I don't think that would be helpful. I maintain that it's not suitable.

So what, then? Maybe I need to realise that I'm also not immune to external influences. Can hankering after my REM days be as damaging to me as mean ugly morals to my children? Is it time to reassess what I let myself see? Maybe.

Or maybe it's come to teach me some empathy for my daughter, that she's now old enough to have strong and real emotions like I do, that we're more similar than I realise, that before I ban and remove and forbid I should stop to think what this feels like to her, how I would like to be dealt with.

Well, as usual, I suppose it's probably both. And as usual, I'm offering thanks heavenwards for the heads-up.