Disability Representation in Funny Little Bunnies

Released in 1934, Funny Little Bunnies is an Easter-themed short in the Silly Symphony series from Walt Disney.  It features bunnies dyeing eggs, carving chocolate rabbits, and putting baskets together for the holiday.

I watched it for the first time a few days ago and was surprised.  There are depictions of disabled rabbits!

The first is an old, brown rabbit hunched over a cane using his free hand to grasp a paintbrush.  He is shaking constantly.  Another rabbit brings him an egg so he can paint a spiky line around the egg's center.

Immediately after, cockeyed white twins paint each other's eggs while they sit side-by-side.

At around 5:44, two blind bunnies in sunglasses weave baskets.

Each example of disability comes at us with a jab of comedy (which isn't surprising in 1934).  The old rabbit can't draw straight!  The twins' eyes are so strange!  Are the blind bunnies even blind*?  The one clearly "saw" the piece he needed to grab!

But, as I watched, I didn't just see the weak humor that accompanied each disability portrayal.  I saw an old rabbit past his prime being assisted by another rabbit to still engage in his passion.  I saw twins doing what they loved together.  I saw blind rabbits who are skilled in basketry.  Every bunny, disabled or not, was doing their part to prepare for Easter.  Their society found places for them to contribute without making it a big deal.

This Silly Symphony emanates a sense of perfect harmony.  Easter Bunny Land is accessible and inclusive... and that's no joke.   

*Small note on visual impairment:  You don't have to have zero vision to be considered blind.

The Interim (A Poem)

He is laughing at something on TV. My breath
scrapes over my teeth, back into a diseased body. Tears
slide in havoc, no tool to reverse them, remote

rewind.  Before this year, we didn't know I had cancer.

Months until we find out if I still do. A horror
movie villain downed with a shovel. Will
there be a sequel to this, a round two? Fights wear

on a person.  Depression has followed him this year, ate

away the light in his eyes. The light I give, I take
like a goddess in a sadistic carnival. Misery
unmeasured, delights on display.  "I'm sorry."

I ache to say to his damage.  I caused this unhappiness.

"It's not you," he says, like we're breaking up.
Close to the breakdown.  When he laughs in joy,
I cry because it's a rare sound.

I wrote this in 2017 after radiation therapy was completed.  I try not to write too many poems about cancer (I think I've written four in total) because someone has probably said everything better than I can.