The Dangers of Female Sexuality

Leighton, Frederic; The Fisherman and the Syren; Bristol Museums, Galleries & Archives; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-fisherman-and-the-syren-188740

In the painting “The Fisherman and the Syren” (1858) by Frederic Leighton, a striking image of a mermaid holding onto a fisherman is front and center of the canvas. A provocative oil on canvas painting of a half nude mermaid, her pale white skin contrasting to the Fisherman’s tanned toned body. Her long golden hair falls past her waist reaching the start of her dark blue, serpent like tail. The mermaid’s hair is adorned in pearls and pieces of subtle coral, a nod to her sea origins. With the jewelry and half braided hair signifies both her similarity to women on Earth, and the “otherness.” The tail is wrapped around the fisherman in a way that’s possessive, and he is being pulled down to her to the dark moving waters. The painting captures a single breathtaking moment of danger, creating a vision of what it looks like to succumb to the lure of a mermaid, the painting both dynamic and still. The sensual nature of the picture makes the theme apparent, there is power and destruction in female sexuality. 

Victorians took a strong interest in mermaids, a contrast to their rigid societal structure. Women were bounded in corsets, restricted in their movement and to breathe freely in the name of beauty. There were strict social hierarchies, which fully determined the way one lived, from jobs to marriages and education. Women were typically expected to stay home to fulfill their duties as mothers and housewives, they were deemed to be physically weaker therefore unfit for employment. Even in modern times, where female sexuality is becoming more acceptable in some parts of the world, women are still subjected to criticism for it. Female sexuality is either hyper-sexualized or condemned, and is villainized in mermaid or siren  form. The mythical mermaid becomes a symbolism of female sexuality freed, she is not chained to a house, gender role, or by any other societal role. She has agency in those whom she loves, those she lusts for. She is free to swim anywhere in the vast sea. The ocean is mostly unexplored, and a mermaid represents that exploration of the seemingly fearful unknown. 

When looking closely at the painting, the fisherman’s body is held upright, and his arms are spread across as if in a crucifix position. This similar position to Jesus crucified is allegorical, painting the man out to be a holy figure suffering in the arms of the “unholy” mermaid. She lures him into danger, an imminent death because of her sexual agency. As if he is paying for the perceived sins of women. 

Even in Hans Anderson’s The Little Mermaid, the classical children’s story can be interpreted as the consequences of female sexuality. There is a sort of liberation when the little mermaid leaves her home out of her own volition to pursue the prince. Before her introduction to the prince, the little mermaid shows a liking to “a pretty statue, representing a handsome youth hewn out of pure white marble” that ended up sinking to the bottom of the sea (pg. 109). 

The story describes her blossoming into womanhood, when turning fifteen she gets to explore her agency, adventuring onto land where her siblings would rather not. When being enamored by the prince, the little mermaid faces consequences for her lust and yearning. Despite her exercise of agency in this tale she had to make destructive sacrifices, giving up her voice and ability to move without pain. At the end, she ultimately meets a sad ending in which love isn’t reciprocated. 

Mermaids are forces to be reckoned with, they are mysterious, alluring creatures that serve as a reflection of society’s fears of unrestrained women’s sexuality. A mermaid can be seen brushing her long hair, a form seen as self-gratification. She lures men in with her seductive qualities and her sexual freedom is deadly.

Discovery #1: GALAXIAS (One-shot) by Ao Hatesaka

Throughout history, cultures around the world have told and created stories of powerful inhuman creatures. Who were able to assume human form. They were used in the past to explain natural disasters disrupting civilization. Some explained as the ‘wrath’ of the gods or similar entities, showcasing mankind’s complicated relationship with nature. One such story is the manga one-shot GALAXIAS by Ao Hatesaka. The story draws on the shared mythology of dragons—a stand in for natural disasters—that mirrors the broader human challenge of facing nature’s destructive forces. The protagonist struggles to find a reason to keep living after his family were killed by dragons. Through his encounter with a dragon who transforms into a girl, the protagonist begins to rediscover his will to live. Finding healing through his connection to this force of nature. Reflecting the beauty of life that nature reminds us to properly heal.

The story of Galaxias takes place on a fictional island nation, plagued by reoccurring dragon attacks. Following teenager Nereid living on his own collecting scrap on the beaches to sell and tending to a lighthouse to make ends meet. However, he is bitter about his current lot in life. Having what he cared for (both his normal life and family) taken away from him. He even says he’s ‘enduring’ life rather than living it.

These panels below panels showcases in a similar fashion to natural disasters how part of life dragon attacks are. That its something the nations of the world have to prepare and act against when possible. Both its setting and the frequent attacks are most likely inspired by creator’s Ao Hatesaka own personal experiences. As in Japan, tsunamis and earthquakes are fairly common.

Nereid after a day’s work encounters a dragon’s corpse, that soon after transforms into a young girl. Named Jio. Put in charge of caring for Jio, Nereid finds Jio is passive and child-like. Not the aggressive monsters he’s known dragons for. Forced to live with Jio and care for her over a long period of time, she frustrates him beyond belief, BUT its more than he’s felt in a long time. During a one on one conversation with Jio, he finally admits to her that he despises dragons. However, by this point he begins to question himself.

Dragons shown in the manga while being described as aggressive, aren’t shown on ‘screen’ as being so. The first dragon introduced, Jio, brings life back to Nereid. This is most likely again due to creator Ao Hatesaka’s culture, as dragons in East Asia aren’t seen as symbols of destruction. But as a symbol of good fortune and as spiritual guardians. The only instance of a dragon being shown on ‘screen’ in the manga attacking humans, its in response to humans attacking first. Dragons here are very much like natural disasters in that they aren’t inherently malicious. Its in a similar vein to how some wild animals attack humans but don’t do it because they’re evil or cruel.

Nereid learning of this sees past his hate and begins the road to recover, like how many modern humans who undergo natural disasters learn to do. Jio, who in the story is presented as nature being sent to Nereid, reminds him he still has a home on this wonderful earth to go back to.

The Little Mermaid

In The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen, he writes the main character as a young ambitious mermaid that has taken an interest in life on land. Anderson uses the little mermaids ambition to symbolize the desire for self-improvement regardless of the length and sacrifice one must go through by his demonstration of symbolism and character development.

Having only seen a glimpse of life on land from underwater, the little mermaid finds herself enamored by it and decides to replicate what she sees. “…she never claimed anything— with the exception of the red flowers that resembled the sun above—but a pretty stature, representing a handsome youth…”(109) Anderson uses symbolism in this recreation of life on land as a form of manifestation for the little mermaid. To visualize something that you desire everyday can create the reality that you wish for as if it were a vision board. Another point of view comes from her admiration for the flowers and statue can also serve as an altar—used for religious or ritual purposes while performing prayers or sacrifice. After every view in her garden, she romanticized life on land and her praises gave her hope that she would one day bring this to life. Plus  later on in the story we learn that she does end up making a sacrifice in order to be able to walk on land. 

What really picked the little mermaid’s interest came from the discussion with her grandmother. Her grandmother is a strong character in her life because she does not shield information from  the little mermaid and answers her questions, “She was always asking her grandmother to tell her all she knew about ships, towns, people and animals.”(109) This helps the development of the little mermaid’s character and confidence by the encouragement of new information instead of the fear of it. It is noticeable that the little mermaid has a good head on her shoulders and that is why she was able to deal with the disappointment of her outcome in the end of the story as gracefully as she did. 

Going back the the discussion with her grandmother in which she reveals that, “Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul that lives eternally—yea even after the body has been committed to the earth…”(118) The revelation draws the little mermaid in even more thus making her say  “I would willingly give all the hundreds of years I may have to live, to be a human being but for one day, and to have the hope of sharing in the joys of the heavenly world”(118) For her the removal of years of her life is worth bargaining for to have a soul. Anderson uses foreshadowing of the bargain to show the lengths that someone would go just to achieve the life that they desire, even if it means permanent alteration of your current life. 

The little mermaids decision serves a purpose to represent the strong aspiration to change your life into something that can  affect you tremendously. However, after much thought and consideration and through the support of your family you can achieve the goal you aspire to complete.

Discovery #1

📸: @ManaOfficial- Instagram

The year 1997 marked a huge shift in the career of Mexican rock band, Maná. With the release of their fifth studio album, Sueños Líquidos, the band took a major step toward becoming one of the most successful influences in the world of rock en español. Although track nine titled, “La Sirena”, is the primary focus of my analysis, the album as whole contributes to the larger narrative about love, the feminine, and the natural. “La Sirena” tells the heartbreaking story of a woman who yearns to leave her human world after she experiences love and loss, ultimately transforming into a mermaid and choosing to live at sea. In this song Maná depicts how society treats both the feminine and the natural in a contradictory manner, failing to protect them and then disguising it with love. Exposing the clear link between the dominion of women and the natural world that exists. Revealing how survival, for both women and the natural, often depends on the rejection of systems that claim to care for them. 

Quería ella escaparse de una isla
She wanted to escape from an island
De la Habana tropical
From tropical Havana”

(mANA 0:25)

Although it’s revealed that the paradise she lives in (prior to her mermaid transformation) is this beautiful tropical Havana…she still flees to a more “raw” form of the natural. I found this detail to be extremely telling of the story because it serves as a reminder that even natural spaces can feel oppressive under systems of ownership and control. Both the feminine and the natural are treated similarly, as a resource only to be valued in society when it is to be admired, commodified, and contained. The human sort of abandons it out of convenience just because she can and then it’s never mentioned again. This could also be in reference to the larger issue of people using verbiage like “sacred” to describe the natural, creating a conditional love for it until it becomes no longer profitable. Regardless, it’s clear from the beginning of the song that this society is built on a system that prioritizes growth.

Montada en un delfín ella escapó
Riding a dolphin she escaped
Y en la mar ella se hundió
And in the sea she sunk down
Nadando entre corales, caracolas
Swimming among corals, seashells
Y entre peces de colores
And among coloured fish
Jugando con delfines en las olas
Playing with the dolphins on the waves
Empapada en amores
Soaked in love” 

(Mana 1:10)

The imagery of her riding a dolphin as she’s escaping to be part of the sea is not in a childlike naive desire to escape her reality but instead an image of resistance. This mermaid does not wait to be rescued by her male counterpart instead she initiates her own escape. From beginning to end she is the central focus of the entire story, a story that highlights her journey or “transformation” to becoming her own individual very much separate from man. What surprised me the most about this transformation was that it was never rooted in punishment or as a form of sacrifice. This is especially shocking due to the cultural/societal norms/expectations that encourage women to pursue romantic love as it leads to an ultimate sense of fulfillment. This mermaid is not saved or destroyed by a man. She survives by making the choice to become a mermaid not to manipulate, seduce, or enchant anyone but to be free to be herself. Metaphorically speaking she is returning to herself, to her true home (the sea). After the tragic ending of her romance she is described to be alone but not lonely. There is a very clear distinction that is made between both that redefines solitude as a form of agency rather than that of an absence. As we’ve discussed numerous items in class before, the sea is something feared by man as it can not be controlled or manipulated. In the context of her transformation, this is significant because she is not a victim consumed by the sea or drowning in sorrows but instead reclaiming her power through her immersion in the natural. Shoutout Steve Mentz. This reframes the sea as a space of empowerment, not something dangerous or threatening to the human at all. The imagery of the sea, corals, seashells, and colorful fish also plays a significant role in the story. The raw natural is used as a refuge for the mermaid as she seeks life outside a world that demands conformity because it is outside human control. Her embracing her transformation challenges the typical narrative of the feminine and the natural as passive. She is physically making the choice to leave a system that demands her to love (the human world) for one where she finally finds freedom and feels “true love” (the natural world). To her, survival means breaking free from a society that only sees her value when she allows it to objectify or commodify her. Interestingly, her choice of transforming into a mermaid didn’t make her less human for me at all. Honestly, it did quite the opposite for me. Especially because towards the end she is quite literally “soaked in love” which means the story was never about her giving up on love to begin with but rather offering an alternative to what love could look like. In a society that thrives in the detachment from the natural world, “La Sirena” is the epitome of late 90’s music culture that was deeply rooted in resistance.

maybe the link?:https://spotify.link/qy0yldviCXb

Potion as Separation and Transcendence

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid focuses on the theme of transformation into a human. The most important element in this process is the role of the potion. In the story, the potion works as a medium that allows the mermaid to enter human society. However, this transformation is not described as an easy or beautiful process. To gain the potion, the mermaid must give up her voice. Her change into a human is not shown as a magical or pleasant experience, but as one filled with pain. Andersen writes, “The little mermaid drank the sharp and burning potion, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword was run through her delicate frame,” showing the physical suffering she must endure to become human.

The moment when she loses her voice emphasizes this meaning even more. The sea witch says, “You have the loveliest voice of all the inhabitants of the deep, and you reckon upon its tones to charm him into loving you. Now, you must give me this beautiful voice.” When the mermaid accepts this deal, it can be seen as the moment she loses her sense of self. A voice is what allows people to express their thoughts and emotions. By giving up her voice, the mermaid loses her way to express herself and falls into silence. This can be understood as a kind of social restriction that comes when one tries to change themselves to fit into human society. Therefore, her pain is not only physical but also represents the loss of her inner identity.

In the story, the mermaid can also be seen as a symbol of nature. Andersen describes her as “Her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea,” connecting every part of her body to natural elements. Through this description, the reader understands that she is a part of nature itself. When she drinks the potion and enters the human world, the connection between her and nature is cut off. This separation can be interpreted as a symbol of the broken relationship between humanity and the natural world.

However, Andersen’s story does not only describe this separation as something tragic. At the end, the little mermaid turns into sea foam, but soon after, Andersen writes, “The little mermaid saw that she had a body like theirs, that kept rising higher and higher from out the foam.” She is reborn as one of the daughters of the air. This is not a simple death, but a transformation into another form of being. It shows a new way of connection between the human world and the natural world. The mermaid, who suffered physical pain and the loss of her voice, finally gains a higher kind of freedom by leaving her body behind. Andersen shows that by going through pain and loss, humans can still reach spiritual growth even after separating from nature.

From this point of view, the potion can be understood as both a symbol of separation and a bridge to transcendence. The moment the mermaid drinks it, she moves beyond being a natural creature and enters a moral and spiritual journey that includes pain, choice, and redemption. Her suffering is not only a sacrifice to adapt to human life, but also a process of purification and self-realization. Through this story, Andersen shows that even though humans have moved away from nature, they can still find a sacred connection with it. In the end, the mermaid’s transformation becomes a symbolic journey that explores the boundary between nature and humanity, body and soul, pain and salvation.

Discovery #1- the Voice of a Mermaid

 In Monsters, an anthology book compiled by Andrew Hoffman, I found a piece, “Mermaids’ Attributes, Behavior, and Environs,” written by Skye Alexander. In this passage, Alexander highlights the common themes that have been central to merpeople since their ancient beginnings, and why these traits make them so intriguing.

 Alexander offers insights that would definitely enhance our understanding of merpeople and literature in the environment. She explains how certain merpeople traits, that we have learned about from age-old stories, make them more violent and dangerous than we have previously discussed. The narrative around Mermaids, in particular, is heavily based on their “enchanting voices, their sensuality, and their destructive behavior” (Alexander 1). We have spoken extensively in our discussions about these details and the physical traits of mermaids. We have discussed how their destructiveness had reason and rhyme, but at the end of the day, they were written to be lesson-bearing monsters. Although I do believe “monster” to be a somewhat neutral term in this class, as I am not afraid of mermaids or many other methodical creatures, nor do I think they are inherently “bad” or “evil”. Nonetheless, they do fit the part. This text has led me to the conclusion that the voice, song, or sound of mermaids is their truly “monstrous” trait, rather than their physical hybridity. As the only predominantly female monsters in our world, mermaids’ ability to kill with their voices speaks volumes about women and the way in which they are portrayed.   

 The fear associated with mermaids, more often than not, relates to their alluring songs and siren-like voices. Although their shape and animalistic features are mentioned and enchanting for sure, the most deadly aspect they possess is their sound. Unlike other monstrous creators whose large, hairy bodies or sharp teeth make them dangerous, mermaids don’t breathe fire or suck blood; they kill with their songs. Their enticing voices leave sailors, pirates, and all other seamen doomed. “Medolious but melievant temptatress – no man could resist their tantalizing singing” (Alexander 2). In many examples, the true fear of mermaids stems from their communication and the imminent drowning that it would cause. The Greek Sirens were dark and spiteful creatures with wicked intent to kill, possessing the superpower of sound. Although mermaids’ beauty and nudity may have caught the eyes of men, their ears were the weakness that these creatures preyed upon. In general, the deaths that mermaids caused were not necessarily brutal or graphic; instead, they lured men into a space they simply could not survive. They didn’t rip sailors’ hearts out or sink fangs into flesh. When necessary, their violence was channeled through the medium of aggressive waters. They have been credited with controlling the ocean in some way or another. “Many legends link mermaids with storms and even blame them for whipping up tempests at sea in order to sink ships” (Alexander 3). Their tunes or, in some cases, shrieks, like those of the ancient Irish banshees, are their weapon of choice.  

  While mermaids use their voices to take lives, their lack of voice and communication in stories like Hans Christian Andersen’s has also proven to work against them. He claims the songs of mermaids are to calm the sailors already bound for death. The Little Mermaid dealt away her tongue in pursuit of human legs and love, and it inevitably led to her death as she could no longer tell the prince she saved him or bring herself to kill him either. Here, her voice, or lack thereof, is not a weapon or tool of destruction but a sacrifice or form of payment. She was willing to be silenced forever, even if her voice was her greatest or most powerful quality, all to be human and escape the water.

  This trope of voice and noise is particularly interesting when you factor in gender. Mermen have historically been rarely associated with singing. “Folklore remains pretty quiet on the subject of mermen’s singing ability” (Alexander 2). How come this singing motif is reserved only for mermaids? Their femaleness and their way of communicating (or killing) are directly linked. These early mermaid tales are from a time period where women were practically voiceless, politically, but also in the home. In a world run by men, women were meant to be fragile. They would not hit or scratch or be “unruly”. The second their words cut too deeply or were used too much and with too much volume, they were “hysterical.” In a world where you cannot legally own anything, including yourself, all you really have is your voice. It is so interesting to me, the dynamic of making a voice a weapon. “Psychologically, mermaids have been said to present the complexity of women’s emotions, ranging from playful to stormy” (Alexander 4). I consider it empowering to be acquainted with mermaids; they are beautifully powerful creatures free from the clutches of worldly patriarchy. This pride, however, is fogged by the seemly constant sexualization and demonization of these beings. Do women, and specifically young maids, lead to the downfall of men? Are we nothing more than long hair, breasts, mirrors, and combs? Are our voices shrill and headache-inducing? Mermaids, unlike other mythical monstrous, are driven by emotion and desire for connection; in a way, that’s what makes them so dangerous. So, as a woman with two legs and my feet on the ground, I can’t help but wonder if that same emotion also makes us dangerous to or different from men. 

 If song, sound, or speech is a mermaid’s sword and the very thing that makes her a monster, then ultimately, mermaids expose the societal fear of female power or expression. Cultural narratives have used monstrous mermaids as a tool to warn men of “crazy” women and keep us quiet. Luckily, in contrast, these stories have pulled a 180 in contemporary times. Serving as loveable monsters who have gone on to empower women and teach us a lesson or two about men. I, too, will make like a mermaid and use my voice as a tool.  

Works cited:

Alexander, Skye. “Mermaids’ Attributes, Behavior, and Environs.” Monsters, 1st edition, edited by Andrew J. Hoffman, Bedford-St. Martin’s, 2025, pp. 232-237. A Bedford Spotlight Reader.

Discovery #1

“File:Edmund Dulac – The Mermaid – The Prince.jpg.” 

PREFACE:

Background on the artist Edmund Dulac, his artwork is featured for The Little Mermaid tale from Stories from Hans Andersen by H. C. Andersen published in 1911. He was born in France during 1882 and passed away in the United Kingdom during 1953. According to Diana Frank from Once Upon a Canvas exhibit, his arrival in London helped cultivate his drawing technique. Additionally, a new mass printing method allowed for Dulac to publish his watercolor paintings and he ventured towards “orientally influenced color palette”(Students). During this century, the European obsession with Orientalism started booming and many artists were entranced by exotic visual traits of the east. Therefore, another layer is added to the artwork considering the oriental influence on the Prince’s attire and the intricate pillar design, seen above. 

For my discovery, this artwork critically engages with the patriarchal subtext of Andersen’s ‘The Little Mermaid’. It presents the Prince as a figure embodying the patriarchy– standing tall and powerful, owning the space and towering over the Little Mermaid. The painting promotes reading the story by paying attention to and how the narrative exposes and perpetuates sexist dynamics. 

Noticing an obvious difference between the Prince and The Little Mermaid is the attire. The Prince has oriental royal garments compared to The Little Mermaid’s seaweed-like scraps barely covering her body. Despite them both coming from royal backgrounds, he is heavily clothed with barely any skin being shown and donning a head piece. The Little Mermaid doesn’t have any physical evidence that she is from Mediterranean sea royalty, so it was easy for the Prince to assume he is above her in status. But, also note that in the artwork, the Little Mermaid is lower and cowered inwards while sitting on the steps of the palace. Meanwhile, the Prince is standing with a relaxed stance leaning. He is touching the pillar and his demeanor seems confident and comfortable. He is making a clear connection to his environment. With the following quote, it helps solidify the Prince with a dominant role throughout the story, “She was now dressed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful of all the inmates of the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak”(Bacchilega, 124). The Little Mermaid isn’t a guest in his palace, she’s a prisoner who is trapped there. She can’t entertain him, and for that very reason she isn’t highly valued in the eyes of the Prince. The Prince assumes The Little Mermaid’s lack of intelligence based on her disability of having no voice is accurate and none can rebuttal that, especially her, since she sacrificed her voice to be on land. Nobody would dare be against the Prince on his domain. 

Revisiting the postures comparison in the artwork and it being a visual representation of the patriarchal hierarchy going on the entire time! This became more solidified with the following quote, “The prince declared that he would never part with her, and she obtained leave to sleep on a velvet cushion before his door”(Bacchilega, 124). The Prince had The Little Mermaid sleeping on the floor by his door, like an animal. It’s clear that the Prince sees her as a disposable toy that has his attention for now. The degrading nature of having her, a mute disabled young girl, sleep without basic human respect. 

In conclusion, The prince is a man at the end of the day, he will become a king, he is a prince. He is gonna look out for himself and make his life easier and benefitting him. The prince is a spitting image of the patriarchy and speaks volumes to what men think of women. That is why this fairytale is timeless.

Works Cited:

Bacchilega, Cristina and Marie Alohalani Brown. The Penguin Book of Mermaids. Penguin Books, 2019.

“File:Edmund Dulac – The Mermaid – The Prince.jpg.” Wikimedia Commons. 20 Aug 2025, 12:27 UTC. <https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Edmund_Dulac_-_The_Mermaid_-_The_Prince.jpg&oldid=1075432655> 19 Oct 2025, 03:20.

Students in the German Studies course Grimm Reckonings: The Development of the German Fairy Tales (Professor Elio Brancaforte). “Once Upon a Canvas: Exploring Fairy Tale Illustrations from 1870-1942.” Tulane University Libraries , 19 Apr. 2013, exhibits.tulane.edu/exhibit/fairy_tales/. Accessed 18 Oct. 2025. 

Rusalochka: The Soviet Russian Era Little Mermaid

The Little Mermaid – directed by. Ivan Aksenchuk (1968/Soviet Animation) (ENGLISH & TURKISH CC)

What does it mean, if there was no happy ending for the Little Mermaid, and the memory of her was swallowed up into the sea? The 1968 Soviet Animation of The Little Mermaid, Rusalochka, does not shy away from the mermaid’s tragic fate, and in doing so tells a moralizing story about knowing one’s place, or striving to live through love and compassion. This tragic ending and the interpretation of it is divided between two lenses, the fish who views the little mermaids death as a tragedy and a waste, and a Danish tour guide who considers it a story of love, courage, and kindness, told to a group of tourists. Despite the conflicting views on her death, her fate is nonetheless tragic, but her sacrifice is regarded by humans as heroic, thus this version acknowledges her mark on history through her memorialization, both through sculpture and song. This version allows the exploration of mermaids’ autonomy by giving her a voice and a song, where the book was unable to convey the splendor of her voice. As a children’s story, it becomes a tool to bridge humanity and the soul of the ocean. The little mermaid reaches out to us and teaches humans kindness, love, and compassion, where humanity lacks it despite having a soul.

“The surf beats against the black rocks

Life is hard for humans, this everlasting struggle

But I believe drop by drop, your vitality will return

The first drop will be strength

The second drop will be joy

The beautiful should not perish,

The brave should not perish

They should not, they should not die”

This lamentation is heard when she originally saves the prince; it is her song. It is heard again only after she dies and is reclaimed by the ocean. Unfortunately, she is only briefly mourned by the prince, who mistakes her song as coming from his new bride. This poetic addition brings the focus of the story back to the fact that the Little Mermaid held a bountiful understanding and empathy for human life, culture, and beauty.

The ending differs from the original story by Hans Christiaan Anderson, where her sisters give her a knife to kill the prince and his bride in the book, here she is given a magical shell that has the power to summon a storm that will sink the ship and kill the prince and his bride. Only by unleashing the power of this shell can she return to her life as a mermaid. But when she drops this shell into the ocean, unable to betray her love for the prince, she is swallowed up by a wave, and her song is heard throughout the ship. Perhaps this is an homage to the original ending, as the prince searches for the voice in the sails of the ship and in the birds that fly above the ocean. Though she is not missed by the prince for long, her song is heard by the audience, her story is told by the guides, and it resounds through history. The last scene, is her image imortalized in bronze.

Her fate is lamented by the fish that tells her story to the school of fish, regarding this story as a tragedy and a lesson of knowing one’s place. She is heard weeping tearfully: “And that, my children, is how the story ends. The foolish mermaid wanted to become human, but as they say, everyone should know one’s place.” However, the tourists who gaze upon her statue in the Copenhagen bay view it as a story about kindness, love, and devotion, “a tale of love that knows no bounds, the tale of courage and kindness.” 

This change is all the more impactful, not because it shows her loss of life as a tragedy, but rather because she is given a place of belonging, gazing upon the changing and shifting human world. Her position in the water, her physical memorialization, allows humans to keep in constant communion with the ocean, where her song can be heard in the ocean. Her sacrifice becomes not one born out of spite for her unrequited love, but of her love and appreciation for humanity.

Towards the Sun: Reframing the Little Mermaid’s Sacrifice as Feminist Resistance

Whether you think of the curious, red-headed mermaid Ariel, or the nameless, innocent mermaid when you hear the story of “The Little Mermaid,” most people think of a weak little girl who only did things in the name of love, never for herself. However, that is not the case for either of their stories. Both mermaids are, despite what the majority think, strong-headed women who desire one thing: to walk on land and experience the world above them. This infatuation with the land above them didn’t start when they met a prince; it started far before that. In the Little Mermaid’s case (from hereon out, references to the “Little Mermaid” will refer to the mermaid in Anderson’s story, not Ariel from Disney), it started when her grandmother told her about how on her fifteenth birthday, she would be allowed to journey up to the surface and experience it for herself. And when every single one of her sisters journeyed to the surface, the Little Mermaid longed deeper and deeper to journey to the surface. Throughout her whole story, I am intrigued by the presence of one specific element described in her longing to go to the surface: the sun. It is described as being the central focus of the garden that she crafts, as each one of the sisters has their own personal garden. Some sisters craft it into the shape of a whale, others into another mermaid. But the Little Mermaid crafts hers to reflect the sun. In “The Little Mermaid,” Andersen uses the mermaid’s fixation on the sun—from her garden’s design to her final gaze as she dissolves into sea foam—as a symbol of her longing for transcendence beyond the physical world. This recurring solar imagery reframes her sacrifice not as a loss for love but as a spiritual awakening, revealing the story’s deeper reflection on identity, immortality, and the soul’s yearning for something greater.

The repeated representation of the sun in “The Little Mermaid” reflects a deeper desire for transcendence and self-actualization. From the start of the story, we are introduced to the Little Mermaid’s infatuation with the land above the sea, specifically the sun. Anderson writes, “[B]ut the youngest planted hers in a circle to imitate the sun, and chose flowers as red as the sun appeared to her” (Anderson, “The Little Mermaid”). Not only does this introduction represent her earlier infatuation with the land before she meets the prince, but it also represents her final gaze towards the sun before she commits the ultimate sacrifice and dissolves into sea foam. The sun itself in this scene also represents a yearning desire for something unreachable, yet radiant—it represents power, freedom, and identity. These are all things that are just barely within the reach of the Little Mermaid, and they are all something she desires deep down, without Anderson having to explicitly state it. In a world that constantly denies female agency, the sun represents it. It is something just barely unattainable, but in certain circumstances, such as when you fight for it, it becomes attainable.

Many believe the Little Mermaid’s sacrifice to be submission to romantic ideals; however, it is completely plausible that her sacrifice was a radical act of self-liberation. In “The Little Mermaid,” we are told that mermaids do not have a soul. Instead, they live for much longer than humans, and when they eventually die, they will become sea foam. However, there is one way to gain a soul—to have a human fall in love with you. This is what sets the Little Mermaid off on her quest to find love. Yet, it is important to note that the primary reason for going above land is not just to attain a soul, it is merely to experience life above the waters. This is represented by her infatuation and obsession with the sun. When the Little Mermaid ventures onto land, she must give up her tongue (and, in turn, her voice) for legs. Still bound by limitation, the Little Mermaid must overcome the burdens placed upon her by the circumstances she was given: first, she must cross the border between sea onto land. Then, she must navigate the trials of making the prince fall in love with her without the use of her voice. Finally, she must decide between sacrificing her prince or sacrificing herself. And in the end, she chooses to sacrifice herself. Her voicelessness and bodily loss in her death deeply contrast with her final spiritual gain when she ascends to the air, joining the daughters of the air. Through her ending, Anderson critiques the cost of conforming to patriarchal ideals, such as giving up voice, autonomy, and identity. In her final gaze towards the sun, the Little Mermaid is a reclamation of agency, as she chooses spiritual immortality with the daughters of the air rather than romantic fulfillment with the prince.

In her final moments alive, the Little Mermaid’s gaze towards the sun marks a shift from romantic longing to spiritual autonomy. Anderson writes, “The sun now rose out of the sea; its beams threw a kindly warmth upon the cold foam, and the little mermaid did not experience the pangs of death. She saw the bright sun, and above were floating hundreds of transparent, beautiful creatures; she could still catch a glimpse of the ship’s white sails, and of the red clouds in the sky, across the swarms of these lovely beings” (Anderson). In her final, dying moments, the one thing that inspired her to venture up onto land, the sun, watches over her as she lies dying in the sea foam. It is beautifully symbolic that the sun watches over her passing into the sea, and soon, into the air, as she then becomes an air spirit—a daughter of the air. Even more, the daughters of the air not only live up to around 300 years, but they also gain an immortal soul after that period of time. It is almost like the Little Mermaid gains the two things she was caught between: living for 300 years and attaining an immortal soul. The way Anderson depicts the death of the Little Mermaid is almost comforting. Particularly, the sun is characterized as warm amongst the cold foam of the sea. The stark contrast represents her relationships with the two different environments at play: the sun and its warmth representing her fondness for land, while the cold waters represent her dissatisfaction with her life in the sea. Additionally, her death is not succumbing to an eternal fate of despair; instead, it is a transformation. The Little Mermaid does not become erased; she is instead reborn, which is much more radical than submitting to the expectations placed upon her.

Works Cited

Andersen, Hans Christian. “The Little Mermaid.” The Penguin Book of Mermaids, edited by Cristina Bacchilega and Marie Alohalani Brown, Penguin Books, 2019. EPUB edition. https://reader.z-lib.fm/read/1a79973ce195b4c2f56cd9e8c208861a317cff610e2868dc8fd38d5107f82fbe/29732523/b88b30/the-penguin-book-of-mermaids.html.

Discovery 1: Hybrid Bodies and Betrayal in Melusine

In The Romance of the Faery Melusine, one moment within the story that I would like to closely analyze is Melusine’s serpent transformation and how it is not framed as a decent into monstrosity but rather as a moment of revelation. Instead of describing her as a grotesque creature, the text instead describes her transformation as that of being radiant, imagery more akin to divinity than horror. Through this luminous description and natural symbolism, the passage portrays her hybrid body as powerful, sacred, and deeply connected to the environment. This aesthetic refreshing shifts the meaning of her transformation where the conflict from this scene is not of Melusine’s difference but rather Raymondin’s failure to accept it. Melusine’s revelation as a beautiful hybrid being is contrasted with the unsettling reaction is produces by revealing that the true threat lies not in the feminine wilderness, but in the patriarchal instinct to reject whatever resists containment.

The language surrounding Melusine’s revealed body is deliberately reverential. Rather than dwelling on minute details such as her scales or deformity, the scene is enveloped in a radiant “pale light” which fills the room as she emerges from the bath and her arms “shone like liquid gold” (Lebey 124) while she reached upwards toward the moon. Even her serpent form is transfigured as an extension of the natural world, shimmering like water. This description elevates her body into an elemental spectacle, treating her transformation as a moment of holy communion which aligns with the principle that view the feminine and natural world as two sides of the same coin. Feared because they are incredibly powerful, not becase they are inherently evil. Melusine’s hybridity is presented not as demonic but as ecological: she embodies both human intimacy and nonhuman fluidity.

Raymondin’s response to all this, however, fractures this sublimity. Where the narration illuminates Melusine’s with awe and wonder, his language is riddle with instability and uncertainty. He imagines, “implacable doors” and wonders whether he is “even in the true way to Melusine’s” (Lebey 123). His anxiety arises not from witnessing evil but witnessing something that he cannot categorize. The passage emphasizes his fear of ambiguity where his first instinct is not of compassion or curiosity but that of intrusion. The moment he spies on her, violating her trust and request for secrecy, is when the tragedy of the story truly begins. It is not Melusine’s serpent form that is an act of treachery, Raymondin’s gaze is. He cannot love that he cannot define and in this way, the scene dramatizes a broader ecofeminist critique where patriarchal consciousness recoils when confronted with beings who resist binary classification. In this case woman or monster.

Understanding this passage through this lens allows it to speak not only about gender perception but also environmental ethics. Melusine is punished for being a hybrid: a state of coexistence between human and nonhuman. Her rejection by her loved one reflect the cultural rejection of things that do not conform to human management. Like nature itself, she is cherished when useful, romanticized when passive, but feared when autonomous and unable to be tamed by man. Her serpent body can be seen as a form of resistance as she will not sever herself from the wild to appease a man who is terrified of boundaries. This passage mirrors the societal relationships the environment and teaches that ecological destruction begins with the refusal to recognize kinship across differences.

In the end, the betrayal is not Melusine’s but Raymondin’s. Her transformation teaches that the monster was not her hybridity but rather the impulse to sever ourselves from nature in order to feel a false sense of security. By portraying her serpent body as sacred, the passage advances an early ecofeminist principle: environmental and feminine autonomy are not threats to be subdued or domesticated, but ways that demand open mindedness and reverence.