Why The Lion King Made Me Cryfeatured

I didn’t always know English. At one point in my life, my world only existed in Spanish. It was my mommy and me against the world and growing up in a San Diego bordertown you never really need to learn English if that is what you wish.

I learned English from TV Shows and movies. Disney was of course my favorite teacher.

My mom bought me The Lion King at some movie store. I remember opening the complicated VHS packaging in the car being so sure that this would be my favorite movie. There were cute lions on the front and I always dreamed of being a cat so that was all I needed to know.

From that day forward, I watched it on repeat day after day. I learned every single conversation and facial expression, and well, naturally, every musical number. I belted like I was Simba, not being quite sure of what I was actually singing, I knew he was strong and I knew I wanted to be just like him.

No, I did not want to be like Nala. She was simply not King.

And it made me cry every time. That scene. It shook me to my core even as a child. I would find myself watching the movie especially on the days when I felt like crying. Those days where I felt so lonely, so different than all the other kids around me.

Maybe I can be King too. I thought.

Every song I sang after that scene made me stronger each and every time. Simba was more than a cartoon lion, he was my buddy. He understood me and was much sadder than I ever was.

I often wished I could meet him. I wished I could step into that VHS player and run, jump, and sing with him and all of his friends that made him smile when he lost it all.

That’s the thing about this pillar of my childhood, it was the first movie that showed me that even heroes can fall. It seemed so unreal, so impossible, that such a big and powerful lion could turn to nothing at the hands of his bitter brother.

Most importantly, it taught me about the Universe, the heavens, those stars above us. It taught me about how small and how big we are at the same time.

Even just writing this brings me to tears.

Watching the remake was obviously not the same as the original. The animated facial expressions were lacking but I could make them out in my head.

How could I ever forget?

Simba’s story is engrained in my DNA. It is still the soundtrack of my memories, the VHS that taught me so much more than a language, it taught me the nature of humanity and of all that is not human… About the ties that bond us and also break us.

There was always a part that made me cry more than the initial point of impact.

Remember who you are.

I was always so unsure growing up but his story told me that I would someday find my way and that on that day I would be proud. For me, this meant being proud of my roots, my heritage, my language. My shape, my size, my family’s customs.

Little Simba had only one label-Good. He wasn’t too brown or too tall. He was simply Simba. A lost little guy that had to lose his way to finally find what was deep within his heart all along.

Love Deeply and Forever,

Karen

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