I’ve been rewatching Disney movies with my kids lately. It started out as a nostalgic comfort with colorful animation, familiar songs, characters we used to mimic as children. But the more I watched, the more I couldn’t shake a growing tension in my chest. These stories are simple, even childlike on the surface. But the lessons? The moral truths? They’re not ambiguous. They’re not subtle. In fact, they are piercingly clear.

Kindness win, arrogance destroys and compassion changes the world. Power without empathy is a curse disguised as a crown.

We are taught, from the opening credits, to root for the underdog. We fall in love with Belle because she’s curious and kind, not because she fits in. We admire Aladdin not because he comes from wealth, but because he knows how to survive with integrity. We cheer for Jasmine when she refuses to be owned, and for Mulan when she finds courage in her truth. These characters aren’t loved because they uphold the system. They’re loved because they challenge it.

And yet.

In the real world? We keep choosing the villains.

We don’t reward the soft-hearted, the fiercely honest, or the emotionally brave. We reward control. We celebrate the Gastons. the charismatic charmers with nothing beneath the surface but entitlement and ego. We elevate the Jafars, who manipulate systems for personal gain and call it strategy. We create entire industries modeled after the Evil Queen’s obsession with image, dominance, and fear of being outshined. We teach people to “fake it ‘til you make it,” and to fear being too real, too sensitive, too principled.

The most haunting part of this is that many of us know this. We sense the hypocrisy. We’ve watched the stories and cried at the morals. We quote them. We tattoo them. We buy the merchandise. But we don’t live the message.

Instead, we judge people for their differences. We make masking the cost of survival. We call authenticity “too much” and label advocacy as “troublemaking.” We’ve built a world that values performance over presence and then we wonder why so many of us feel like we’re losing ourselves.

What happens when a society keeps preaching goodness but structurally rewards dominance?

We burn out the ones with the most empathy. We silence the ones with the clearest vision. We punish the ones who dare to say “This isn’t working.”

We often say things like “the good guys always win” as if it’s a given, as if justice is inevitable. But that’s a myth. The truth is, justice is not automatic. It is not self-executing. It is a choice, every day, by people in power and people on the ground. And most often, we don’t choose justice. We choose comfort, control, and unfortunately we choose silence.

Let’s go back to Aladdin for a moment. He was homeless. An orphan. Labeled a thief. Society wrote him off. But he had wisdom. He had integrity. He had emotional intelligence. He could see through deception and still show up with kindness. He had the skills and more importantly, the heart to lead. And when the story is over, we celebrate that arc. We say, “See? Anyone can be a prince.”

But in the real world, how often do we give people like him that chance?

How often do we build systems that recognize the value of lived experience, or protect those on the margins, or make room for brilliance that doesn’t come wrapped in degrees and dollars?

The truth is, we still don’t believe in Aladdin.

We still tell the Jasmines of the world to “be realistic.” We still ask the Mulans to earn respect through pain. We still teach our children to color inside the lines, even after they’ve just watched a movie that celebrates coloring all over the page.

This isn’t about political sides. This isn’t left versus right. This is about the soul of who we are becoming. When we prioritize order over equity, image over integrity, convenience over compassion…we are in essence choosing the villains. When we remain neutral in the face of injustice, when we call for “civility” instead of change, when we cling to policies that hurt real people because they make us feel safe then we are choosing the villains. When we ignore neurodivergent voices, criminalize poverty, erase LGBTQ+ identities, or turn away from the vulnerable in the name of professionalism then we choose the villains.

And it’s not just theoretical. It’s deeply personal.

Because the people who pay the price for our choices aren’t abstract. They’re our coworkers. Our students. Our kids. They’re people like me. People like you. People who just want to live in a world where kindness matters more than conformity.

So what do we do?

We look inward first. We ask ourselves if we’re living the values we claim to hold dear. We name the systems that reward harm. We stop calling survival “success” when it comes at the cost of our humanity. And then we start rebuilding, rebuilding with compassion, collaboration, and with courage.

Justice isn’t about heroes saving the day. It’s about ordinary people refusing to uphold the lie that power equals right. It’s about seeing the outcast not as a burden but as a guide. It’s about choosing the Belle who reads too much. The Aladdin who was overlooked. The Ariel who wanted more. The Mulan who broke the rules. The Elsa who had to unlearn fear. Because that’s how we win. Not by performing goodness but by practicing it.

Let’s stop choosing the villains.

Let’s become the ones we’ve always rooted for.

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