Disney’s Tia Dalma: A Critical Interrogation of an “Imagineered” Priestess Kameelah Martin Samuel, Georgia State University Abstract The conjure woman has long lived as a popular American cultural icon, so much so that it seemed destined that multimedia conglomerate the Walt Disney Com- pany would eventually adopt and embrace her. The conjure woman’s likeness is reflected in the Disney feature films Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006) and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End (2007). This essay investigates just what happens to black women and spirit work when placed in the hands of Disney, a corporation with a sordid history of pirating in another context. The work is particularly invested in complicating black female body politics by addressing the additional stigma against female spiritual autonomy. How is an association with African spiritual cosmologies inscribed on the physicality of black women in popular culture? I focus my attention on Tia Dalma, the minor black female character engaged in Vodou in the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, applying a close reading of the spiritual iconography and other cinematic coding surrounding her performance of African-based spirituality. I assess Disney’s appropriation of black cultural forms in the construction of fantasy and fairytale. I mages of conjurers, voodoo queens, and obeah women have pervaded the American popular imagination at least since Tituba was described by judicial officials as “a slave from the West Indies probably practicing hoodoo” during her trial at Salem Village (Tucker 2000, 624).1 Marie Laveau’s name and likeness are invoked all over New Orleans where voodoo devotees and the curious alike sojourn to her tomb annually. Both the publishing and film industries have fueled the world’s obsession with black women and spirit work. Zora Neale Hurston’s Mules and Men (1935) and Tell My Horse (1938) and Karen McCarthy Brown’s Mama Lola: A Vodou Priestess in Brooklyn (1990) provide an insider’s perspective on the place of women Black Women, Gender, and Families Spring 2012, Vol. 6, No. 1 pp. 97–122 ©2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois 98 kameelah martin samuel in African-based spiritual systems. Jewell Parker Rhodes’s Voodoo Dreams (1993) and subsequent voodoo trilogy is targeted at an audience hungry to consume black magic women.2 Even the mainstream Amazing Spider-Man series pits a villainous voodoo priestess against the arachnid-inspired super- hero.3 Early Hollywood films like Chloe, Love is Calling You (1934) and The Love Wanga (1936) evince a long-standing American preoccupation with Africana women of spiritual prowess. The phenomenon of Daughters of the Dust (1991) and Eve’s Bayou (1997), two independent films by black women, speak to yet another audience, black women, who find affirmation of their way of life in such films. More recently, HBO’s original series True Blood introduced Ms. Jeanette, the conjure woman from Bontemps, Louisiana, in season one, and the season three finale alludes to an ancestral connection to women and voodoo for the character Lafayette.4 The twentieth century, in particular, is reeling with references to African-derived religious figures that are female in the material culture of America. The depictions range from representations of the fantastic as in the graphic novel Voodoo: Dancing in the Dark (1990) to filmmaker Julie Dash’s culturally sensitive rendering in Daughters of the Dust. The conjure woman has such a long standing as a cultural icon, particu- larly in American consumer markets, that it was destined that multimedia giant the Walt Disney Company would eventually take a sip of her brew. The conjure woman’s likeness is reflected in the Disney feature films Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006) and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End (2007) (hereafter referred to as Pirates). Disney’s appropriation of women and spirit work signals a halting moment for the conjure woman. This essay asks what happens to her image when placed in the hands of Dis- ney? The company has a sordid history of piracy in another context.5 It is common knowledge that the conglomerate did not necessarily manufacture many of the beloved fairy tales, folk heroes, and Disney “classics” owned, distributed, and marketed by the company.6 The Walt Disney Company has incurred much criticism to this effect, though such criticism has not had sizable repercussions in profit or public opinion.7 All things considered, it is a wonder that Disney would delve into multiple film projects that mirror the folk and spiritual expressions of people of African descent. Black female characters, lead or supporting, have a limited history on the Disney silver screen. Yet and still, new concepts such as “postracial America” suggest that the development and marketing for an African American audi- ence seem politically correct action for Disney to pursue.8 Visible African American characters with developed storylines seemingly solve the conun- drum of minimizing social offense while also satiating a target demographic. spring 2012 / black women, gender, and families 99 Disney’s earlier attempt in Song of the South (1946) caused some controversy over the questionable depiction of African Americans and the supposed bas- tardization of the Brer Rabbit tales.9 The film is currently serving a twenty- five year (and counting) banishment in the Disney vault. It has not been released theatrically or for home-entertainment purchase in the United States since 1986.10 Perhaps in the twenty-first century, Disney has reconsidered its approach to culturally sensitive representations, perhaps not. The following interrogation of Tia Dalma, the Africana female character who appears to be linked to black circum-Atlantic spiritual traditions in the aforementioned Pirates films, intends to address that precise question. After all, with the Dis- ney name behind her, the conjuring woman has the potential to sail to new popular culture heights—without the express disavowal of the very group of people whom she represents—a distinction Disney has yet to earn.11 Disney’s Tia Dalma and the Pirates Trilogy In 2006, Walt Disney Pictures introduced the character Tia Dalma (actress Naomi Harris) in the second installation of the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. Tia Dalma appears late in the film, surfacing only when the lead character, Jack Sparrow (actor Johnny Depp), seeks out the obeah woman to save him from the wrath of Davy Jones.12 Tia Dalma’s habitat is nestled deep upriver on an unnamed Caribbean island.13 Her home is not on physi- cal land; rather, she resides in a wooden shack situated in the branches of a cypress forest. Her living space is illuminated with soft, golden candlelight and decorated with various hanging pseudo-obeah accoutrements, like a jar full of human eyeballs and skeletal remains. The most obvious sight is the albino python draped across the tree limb that rises through the floor. Captain Sparrow visibly shifts from being cavalier to an apprehensive posture when entering Tia Dalma’s shack. His first mate assures him, “I’ll watch your back,” to which Sparrow responds with thinly veiled sexual innuendo, “It’s me front I’m worried about” (Dead Man’s Chest 2006). Before Tia Dalma steps into the frame, the audience is already queued as to how to read her character—scary, otherworldly, and sexually aggressive. That Sparrow seeks her knowledge to protect him from Jones implies that, like Jones, Tia Dalma trucks in the supernatural, grotesque, immoral world of piracy, or something much worse. Tia Dalma’s home is hidden in the swamps among a settlement of other African-descended persons. The setting immediately invoked, for this author, the history of fugitive slaves living in swamps and hills undetected by the 100 kameelah martin samuel planter class. Disney does not address the origins of Tia Dalma and her community on film, but based on Caribbean history, it seems logical to assume this to be a maroon settlement. Otherwise, it is difficult to explain the large Afro-Caribbean population living free in the deepest, hidden part of the island when, according to the film, it is the height of the East India Company’s triangular import/export business. Tia Dalma is the stated leader of her community; as such, her character is in keeping with that of disobedi- ent slave. From my view, she can be interpreted as a rebellious woman who, in defiance of British rule, commits marronage. The unusual items in her dwelling also allude to some socially unacceptable activity that borders on the un-Christian and otherworldly. Her visual representation works to corroborate such coding. Tia Dalma first appears at a table where she is performing a divination with crab claws. The camera zooms into a close-up shot of her face, drawing attention to her black lipstick, unkempt dreadlocks, bloodshot eyes, and what appears to be some type of tribal markings on her face; she is exceptionally othered. Her teeth, like those of the other pirates, are rotted. She wears a colonial, off-the shoulder ball gown complete with a hoopskirt and corset, which is visibly tattered and worn. When considering her costume and make-up one might argue that Disney is more interested in portraying Tia Dalma as pirate scum, consistent with the other characters in the film, than in perpetuating women and spirit work as unsightly and unclean. While one may agree with that statement to some extent, I am discouraged from such reasoning by the more pristine imaging of Elizabeth Swann (actress Keira Knightly), the other female pirate character in the film. Elizabeth Swann is the white, privileged daughter of Wetherby Swann, the British governor of Port Royal, Jamaica. She is clearly delineated as the desirable, romantic interest of both Jack Spar- row and Will Turner (actor Orlando Bloom).14 She remains comparatively clean and feminine, maintaining her “to-be-looked-at-ness” throughout the trilogy (Mulvey 1999, 837). She manages to maintain and even exceed her feminine looks despite the harsh life of piracy. Tia Dalma literally becomes monstrous by the end of the three-part series, whereas Elizabeth remains the Princess Swann.15 Such juxtaposition of black and white females in cinema enables erroneous perceptions about the difference between these women. “Same-sex female polarization perpetuates exaggerated and false distinctions between black and white women which,” Norma Manatu argues, “threaten to color all social exchanges between them. Moreover, because the depictions are presented as comedic and in many cases ‘endearing,’ audiences generally spring 2012 / black women, gender, and families 101 may completely miss how such images work to foster the ‘otherness’ of black women culturally” (2003, 46). The polarization between these two characters moves beyond dinginess and shabby appearances. Janell Hobson argues that “the black female body poses such a threat to the white patriarchal system, it has been rendered invisible for fear that the visibility of a sexually desirable woman would dis- rupt the accepted constructions of white as beautiful, as the norm” (2002, 52). She goes on to explain that this invisibility is often enacted through the “hypervisibility of the black female body,” as in the case of the so-called Hot- tentot Venus (2002, 52).16 The way in which Elizabeth Swann and Tia Dalma perform their sexuality is, then, of particular significance for this analysis. Tia Dalma smiles intimately when she recognizes Jack Sparrow, and their verbal and physical interaction implies that there may have been a romantic or sexual liaison between them in the past. No sooner than she realizes that Jack Sparrow is not traveling alone do her interests sway toward Will Turner. She reads him as he comes into view and proclaims, “You have a touch of destiny about you . . . William Turner,” spoken in a slow, sultry Afro-British patois (Dead Man’s Chest 2006). She knows his name without his revealing it, and if the audience is still unclear about her role in the film or rather who or what she is, this scene solidifies her position as obeah woman.17 Tia Dalma suggestively offers herself to Will Turner asking, “You want to know me?” as she moves familiarly close to him. Jack Sparrow intervenes, but Tia Dalma is close enough to Will Turner to stroke his face and inquire, “What service can I do you?” Will Turner appears surprised at her forwardness, yet flattered and even slightly aroused as she fondles him. The initial minutes of her screen introduction communicates that Tia Dalma is concerned first with the seduction of men. She is coded as a worldly woman with little dis- cretion concerning the number or identity of her lovers. As Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and the other pirates offer an undead monkey to Tia Dalma as in-kind payment for her services, the camera follows the monkey as it skips into an adjacent room perching on the foot of a bed partially hidden from the view of the pirate crew. Though his identity is hidden, a pair of booted feet confirms that Tia Dalma literally has another male visitor in her bed. Though she backs down from seducing Will Turner for the moment, the third film delves much further into the erotic nature of Tia Dalma. Tia Dalma greets Jack Sparrow in a similarly sexually charged exchange in At World’s End (2007) when she and the crew of the Black Pearl rescue him from Davy Jones’s locker. Jack Sparrow initially insults her and accuses 102 kameelah martin samuel Tia Dalma of trying to kill him, to which she responds in a playful, seductive tone, “Now, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it at the time.” She moves closer to him, their faces almost touching as she fingers his braided goatee. Jack Sparrow, unable to maintain his frustration with her, smiles boyishly and concedes the point. The audience also learns of her romantic association with Davy Jones in this film. That she seduced Davy Jones, manipulated him into accepting the responsibility of “[ferrying] those who die at sea to the other side,” and is thus confined to a life at sea is only exacerbated by the fact that “she who love him truly” did not keep her promise to gratify his emotional and sexual desires upon his return to dry land ten years later. Tia Dalma, in this scenario, amounts to nothing more than a temptress and a tease—the same accusations aimed at black women “jezebels” who found themselves in the dubious position of conceiving the master’s children. Like the Jezebel archetype, Tia Dalma is not spared from the social back- lash of her actions. Her punishment for toying with the desires of a white man was to be bound in human form by the Brethren Court of Pirates, whereas she previously roamed the earth as the goddess Calypso, most often embodied as the ocean. The name connotes an association with the nymph Calypso, of Greek mythology, who is best known for her entrapment of Homer’s hero in the Odyssey.18 Tia Dalma does offer and grant Davy Jones immortality, but this is where the similarities between she and the Greek Nereid end. The Homeric Calypso neither betrayed Odysseus nor rejected him in order to pursue other lovers. Tia Dalma, however, actualizes a correlation between ocean divinities and an insatiable sexual appetite, a correlation that is entirely too problematic when dealing with women of color and film. Disney commits to this particular employment of the black female character in its pirate fran- chise, unfortunately, even connecting Tia Dalma/Calypso’s liberation to an innate and feverish sexuality. In order to free the goddess, Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) explains, the personal effects of nine different pirate lords must be burned together and the phrase “Calypso! I release you from your human bonds” is to be “spoken as if by a lover” (At World’s End 2007). She responds ecstatically; her panting, closed eyes, and sensual facial expressions suggest pleasurable erotic stimulation rather than jubilee for freedom. Elizabeth Swann, on the other hand, reflects her sexuality in a much more subtle way. She is coded for her “to-be-looked-at-ness” during the course of the two films in question (Mulvey 1999, 837). Yet it is drastically more conservative and conscious of her position of white privilege. In Dead Man’s Chest, the audience is reminded of Elizabeth Swann’s affluence and pending membership in the era’s Cult of True Womanhood. The camera pans over spring 2012 / black women, gender, and families 103 the ruins of her English wedding—silver place settings, embroidered table cloths, and ornate flower arrangements, seating for a small orchestra; and Elizabeth Swann herself is dolled up in an exquisite wedding gown. 19 The wedding is spoiled by torrid rainfall and the descent of the British Army on Port Royal. Elizabeth Swann is the princess awaiting her happily-ever-after. Her future takes another direction when she and Will Turner are arrested on charges of conspiracy. She is then transformed into the classic damsel- in-distress archetype. Specifically, she is helpless and in need of rescuing, presumably by white men. Swann strays from this role for a good part of the series, but this particular rendering of her character is consistent in that every action she takes thereafter is fueled by the subtext of her pending mar- riage and identity as wife. Her status as cherished, white female trumps every other characteristic she assumes on screen. Further, it is the one to which she ultimately returns after playing with pirates. She laments her postponed nuptials in an emotional outburst while on the Black Pearl: “I just thought I’d be married by now. I’m so ready to be married” (Dead Man’s Chest 2006). Her only concern and mission in the film are to solidify her place as domestic and obedient wife. Positioned as a maiden of wealth, Elizabeth Swann signifies the chaste, untouched, and pure. The film’s leading men desire her, but, unlike their desire for Tia Dalma, their desire for Elizabeth Swann is made honorable by the promise of marriage. She is engaged to Will Turner, was formerly affi- anced to Commodore James Norrington (actor Jack Davenport), and even Captain Jack Sparrow offers something of a proposal in Will Turner’s absence: “You know, Lizzie, I am Captain of a ship. And being Captain of a ship I can, in fact, perform a marriage right here, right on this deck . . . right now” (Dead Man’s Chest 2006). Elizabeth Swann has been involved romantically with all three men—she kisses each of them on different occasions between the second and third films. However, this does not taint or compromise her reputation because each has asked for her hand in marriage, which somehow substantiates their lust. 20 Swann’s flirtation among and between men is not a signal of her wanton ways or implication of loose sexual morals. Rather, it becomes sport, with Will Turner having the last laugh when he wins the prize. It is to Will Turner that Elizabeth Swann makes her only sexually forward comment—whereas Tia Dalma’s character exchanges several with as many characters. Turner promises a jailed Swann to return to Port Royal to marry her properly when the British military officer Lord Beckett (actor Tom Hollander) foils their wedding night. She replies, “If it weren’t for these bars, I’d have you already.” 104 kameelah martin samuel The implied true womanhood of Elizabeth Swann is upheld with under- stated signals in the films. When Jack Sparrow’s indecisive heart can no lon- ger direct the compass he bartered from Tia Dalma toward his heart’s true desires, he relies on Elizabeth Swann’s innate goodness and honesty to guide his ship toward an elusive treasure.21 Sparrow knows how much affection she has for Will Turner and uses this to manipulate her into taking possession of the compass. Her goodness guides the ship to bounty Jack Sparrow seeks and simultaneously to Will Turner, the true desire of her heart, who is held captive by Davy Jones. Elizabeth Swann’s fidelity to Turner goes unquestioned partly because her role as love interest is understood as being harmonious with the hero who fights on the side of everything good and just. Another example of subtly coding Elizabeth Swann as true woman is deciphered in the supposed erasure of her biological sex. In an attempt to mask her femininity while aboard the Black Pearl, Swann disguises herself in male clothing, but her androgyny fails as her male shipmates refuse to acknowledge her as anything except a lady to be admired and protected. Swann’s incognito is further nullified when she appears on the deck in men’s attire, yet her hair is loose and flowing; it dances seductively in the sea breeze as she banters with Captain Jack Sparrow. There is no confusion over or debate concerning her gender coding here. Her body is clothed modestly in men’s pants and a tailored shirt to cover her feminine form for the better part of the film, yet the camera angles focus on her natural beauty and fine facial features rather than capitalizing on her physique—reifying the purity and innocence of white womanhood by drawing attention away from her body. Jack Sparrow addresses her pseudo-masculinity directly, however, saying in no uncertain terms that men’s clothes “do not flatter [her] at all. It should be a dress or nothing” (Dead Man’s Chest 2006). His statement is understood as tongue-in-cheek. It signifies his desire to see her naked, rejects the notion of her androgyny, and reasserts her position on the pedestal of whiteness. At World’s End (2007) continues this engagement of Elizabeth Swann’s character as the epitome of white womanhood. Her opening scenes, set in Singapore, toy again with the false androgyny. Here, she is quickly returned to her place as prized possession of men when she is made to disarm before taking an audience with the Pirate Lord, Sao Feng (actor Chow Yun-Fat). She strips herself of the ridiculous number of weapons she carries on her body, most of which have unquestionable phallic resemblance. Swann is further “castrated” when forced to disrobe and left to appear in nothing but a revealing Asian-inspired tunic. She is reduced to her biological sex and made vulnerable by literally removing her pants and being exposed as sexual spring 2012 / black women, gender, and families 105 object. Her body language also drastically changes. Initially, she was a rogue pirate who violently confronted another pirate who challenged her gender. She then shifted to damsel in distress (At World’s End 2007). Ironically, she does need protecting. She looks to her pirate comrades, Will Turner especially, to keep her chastity intact and disrupt the scopophilic gaze to which she is subjected. True to the metanarrative of white womanhood, Elizabeth Swann is res- cued, albeit with her full participation in the battle. Sao Feng (the racialized other in this scene) gets a second chance to act out his desire on the white female who is off limits to him. When Captain Barbossa announces that the goddess Calypso is part of his crew, Sao Feng immediately assumes Elizabeth Swann to be her human incarnation, excluding Tia Dalma from the possibil- ity altogether. The audience, with Sao Feng, is led by filmmakers to connect Elizabeth Swann with beauty, cleanliness, and divinity by juxtaposing her to the only other female in the film—dirty and unsightly Tia Dalma. Sao Feng assumes the white woman is Calypso because she is desirable; she fits the Eurocentric model of beauty and femininity. In actuality, it is Tia Dalma— marked as unbeautiful, marginal, other—who doubles as the sea goddess. She possesses supernatural power and konnaissance, yet no one suspects the black woman as divinity.22 Tia Dalma smirks at such foolish logic. Sao Feng captures Elizabeth Swann, whom he believes to be Calypso, and Elizabeth Swann plays along with his fantasy seemingly oblivious to his intention to rape her. He sexually assaults her, but in the most ceremoni- ous of ways. He offers his “desire”—clearly a euphemism for his penis—in exchange for her dominion of the ocean. His language is poetic, reverent, and unthreatening, though his actions are not. When his attempted rape is sidelined by a fatal wound at the hands of the Flying Dutchman, Sao Feng begs forgiveness for his impropriety with the goddess and with his last breath names Elizabeth Swann captain and pirate lord in his stead. I contend that the gentleness with which Sao Feng treats Elizabeth Swann is due, in part, to her whiteness, perceived beauty, and position of privilege. The scene in which the actual Calypso is visited by her lover corroborates my contention. Davy Jones, played by Bill Nighy, appears before Tia Dalma/Calypso while she is imprisoned on the Black Pearl. He, unlike Sao Feng, is not there to honor the goddess, rescue her, or submit to his carnal desires. Rather, the exchange is ripe with physical and verbal violence as Davy Jones confronts the “fish wife” for betraying him with her fickle nature (At World’s End 2007). Captain Barbossa, likewise, manhandles Tia Dalma/Calypso when she asserts her power and emasculates him in front of his crew. He addresses her 106 kameelah martin samuel in a condescending tone and strokes her hair as a patronizing gesture. She grabs his hand, which instantly shrivels to skeletal matter under her super- natural grip. She warns, “Caution, Barbossa. Do not forget it was by my power you return from the dead or what it mean if you fail me” (At World’s End 2007). With absolutely no regard for her gender or status as obeah woman, Captain Barbossa grabs Tia Dalma’s arm and ferociously pulls her toward him before ordering her “to the brig” where she is bound in rope like an animal. This is a startling contrast to the way Barbossa tolerates Elizabeth Swann when she “forget[s her] place” with Sao Feng in the opening scenes of At World’s End. He rolls his eyes but dares not challenge an English lady whose rank and race are closer to his own than Tia Dalma’s. The film continues to differentiate white womanhood from black wom- anhood by the limited interaction between Elizabeth Swann and Tia Dalma. Their first on-screen meeting is in the final scene of Dead Man’s Chest when the crew of the Black Pearl returns to Tia Dalma’s hideaway following the supposed death of Jack Sparrow. Tia Dalma, divinely aware of Elizabeth Swann’s heartache over leaving Jack Sparrow for dead and her unresolved attraction to him, nurtures the white woman by offering her a warm rem- edy to protect “against the cold and the sorrow” (Dead Man’s Chest 2006). There are two other scenes in which the two converse. When traveling to World’s End, Elizabeth Swann asks Tia Dalma’s insightful opinion about Sao Feng’s honor, and on their return, it is Tia Dalma who offers Swann the final consolation when she realizes that her father is among the lost souls at sea: “Him at Peace” (At World’s End 2007). Their relationship to one another is tinged with distance and situates Tia Dalma as a subservient, mother figure to the young mistress of the ship. Elizabeth Swann is catered to and consoled at various points in the story, whereas no one comes to Tia Dalma’s aid—not even Jack Sparrow—when Captain Barbossa banishes her and treats her like an animal for challenging his sovereignty. Their difference is solidified in the denouement as Elizabeth Swann successfully completes her mission toward matrimony and ascends to her reserved space in the Cult of True Womanhood. In the final scene of At World’s End, which follows the closing credits, Elizabeth Swann appears properly attired in colonial British dress and is accompanied by the legitimate child of her coupling with Will Turner. She achieves her happily-ever-after, while the fate of Tia Dalma and her beloved Davy Jones remains problematic and unresolved. The polarization of Tia Dalma and Elizabeth Swann continues to be problematic in the way it positions the obeah woman as the unequal coun-