Perched on the rocks beside Copenhagen’s Langelinie Promenade, a bronze statue immortalizes one of literature’s most cherished characters: the Little Mermaid. Created by Danish author Hans Christian Andersen, the Little Mermaid and her ill-fated quest for humanity have touched hearts for generations. Among many queer readers, however, the fairytale’s themes of transformation and desire for community resonate particularly strongly. Indeed, the Little Mermaid’s tragic story strongly parallels Andersen’s own heartbreak over being rejected by a man he loved. Over a century later, another queer creator, Howard Ashman, would weave his own experiences into the tale. In a world that did not always see them, The Little Mermaid allowed both men to make themselves — and people like them — seen.
Join us as we dive beyond the surface — under the sea, if you will — into the queer legacy of this beloved fairytale.
Origins: The Ballad of Hans and Edvard
Hans Christian Andersen’s personal accounts of his life reveal an artistic soul struggling to relate to his peers. He was often bullied for being effeminate, acknowledging in his autobiography that he preferred his dolls’ company over that of the other boys. This sense of being an “outsider looking in” would come to permeate some of his most famous stories.
At age 14, the penniless Andersen left his hometown of Odense to seek his fortune in Copenhagen. An aspiring performer, he was accepted into the Royal Danish Theater, where he met civil servant Jonas Collin. Collin took Andersen under his wing, supporting him financially even after Andersen left the Theater. But it was Collin’s son, Edvard, who left the strongest impression on the budding writer.
Andersen grew infatuated with Edvard, writing many letters to him expressing his strong affection. In one, he “longed” for Edvard as though Edvard was “a beautiful Calabrian girl.” In another, he told Edvard his “sentiments” were “those of a woman.” But Edvard didn’t share Andersen’s feelings, and in 1832, he became engaged to a woman named Henriette. Andersen made no secret of his dismay, reiterating his feelings for Edvard throughout the remainder of their correspondence. He even wrote Edvard a tongue-in-cheek love poem:
Nonetheless, Edvard married Henriette in 1836. A year later, Andersen published The Little Mermaid, a tale of lost love and — perhaps more poignantly — a desire to belong.
Icons: The Influence of Howard Ashman
For many people, the most familiar version of The Little Mermaid is the 1989 animated Disney musical directed by Ron Clements and John Musker. The film marked a turning point for Disney, lifting their animation studio out of a so-called “Dark Age.” Its resounding commercial and critical success launched the Disney Renaissance, paving the way for some of the studio’s most celebrated movies. At the heart of this success was lyricist Howard Ashman, who developed the film’s music with composer Alan Menken.
Ashman was particularly qualified to bring Andersen’s little mermaid, whom Disney named Ariel, to life. Like Andersen, he’d grown up different from the other boys, a young gay kid who found a home onstage. But Ashman had built a lucrative career in musical theater, an experience he thought would help revitalize Disney’s struggling animation department. Though primarily responsible for writing songs, he exercised enormous creative influence on The Little Mermaid as a whole. As a result, the film largely mirrors Ashman’s life experiences, illustrating the joys and challenges of expressing yourself authentically in a hostile world.
The most visible example of queer influence on the film is its interpretation of the sea witch, Ursula. Early in Ursula’s character design process, Ashman singled out a sketch by animator Rob Minkoff, inspired by the drag queen Divine. Divine, a Baltimore native like Ashman, was fearless, transgressive, and over the top — perfect for a Disney villain.
Taking cues from Divine and the drag world, Ashman crafted Ursula’s villain song, the delightfully sinister Poor Unfortunate Souls. The song plays out like a classic drag number, with its campy flamboyance and commentary on gender performance:
Less overtly, Ashman channeled his experiences into Ariel’s ballad, Part of Your World. Though he never spoke on it explicitly, Ashman’s friends and collaborators believe the song reflects his own feelings of alienation:
The 1980s were proving to be a traumatic decade for queer people in the United States. Not only were they battling social prejudice and legal discrimination, but the safe spaces they’d built for themselves were being threatened with extinction. While Ashman and his colleagues worked on The Little Mermaid, the AIDS epidemic was ravaging queer communities across the country. Ashman himself would succumb to the disease just over a year after the film’s premiere.
Despite its yearning overtones, though, Part of Your World is far from forlorn or melancholy. It’s hopeful, sparkling with childlike wonder. Once Ariel saves her prince, the sadness fades entirely, blossoming into fiery determination:
Ariel will find a way to the human world, to her true love. She will live the life she wants on her own terms, no matter the cost. The waves crash, the music swells triumphantly, and through Ariel, Ashman implicitly declares: I am here, I am queer, and I’m not going anywhere.
Out of the Sea
The Little Mermaid’s original ending is bittersweet. Early in the story, the little mermaid learns that though humans live shorter lives than mermaids, they have something mermaids don’t: an immortal soul. Immortal souls allow humans to live a second life in heaven, but for mermaids, death is permanent. A mermaid can only obtain an immortal soul by winning a human’s love.
Andersen’s little mermaid chases humanity because she loves life so much she can’t bear to lose it. And so, she visits the sea witch, who cuts out her tongue and takes her voice as payment for her new legs. The little mermaid can live forever if she wins her prince’s love — but if he marries another, she will die.
Though the little mermaid and the prince grow close, the prince never sees her as more than a friend. She’s forced to watch him marry someone else, knowing what awaits her at sunrise. That night, hours before her impending death, the little mermaid receives a visit from her sisters. They tell her the sea witch will spare her life under one condition: she must kill the prince. But the little mermaid cannot bring herself to do it. Instead, she tosses the witch’s knife into the sea and resigns herself to dissolving into sea foam, the mermaid’s final death.
Some story versions end there, with the mermaid’s tragic sacrifice. But in others, the little mermaid rises above the waves, where she joins the daughters of the air. She has achieved the impossible through her compassion and selflessness: she, a mermaid, has obtained an immortal soul.
The immortal souls of Hans Christian Andersen and Howard Ashman live on in the hearts of readers and viewers who saw themselves in their characters. They saw their pain, joy, and love brought to life on the page and on the screen. Nearly two centuries after her introduction, the Little Mermaid has truly become part of our world — and we can’t imagine that world without her.
To kickstart your queer mermaid reading journey, click here. Learn more about Hans Christian Andersen’s literary career here.
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