Character Meet & Greets
The Magic of a Hug from a Fictional Icon
There I was, a fully grown adult with a mortgage and a skincare routine, standing in line at a theme park, vibrating with the anticipation of a six-year-old on Christmas morning. Why? Because in a few short moments, I would be meeting the Evil Queen in the flesh—at least, the highly-trained, meticulously-costumed flesh of a cast member who had mastered the art of reading guests to filth and dramatic cape-tossing. And as I leaned in for a dramatic selfie, it hit me: this was therapy. This was gay therapy.
The Power of Seeing Yourself in a Cartoon
I couldn't help but wonder—long before we had heart-wrenching queer love stories and nonbinary leads in prestige television, did we learn to see ourselves in the villains?
As kids, we didn't have the luxury of complex representation, but what we did have were villains in exquisite costumes and misunderstood sorceresses with tragic backstories. The ones who stood at the top of grand staircases, delivering razor-sharp one-liners with a knowing smirk. The ones whose power wasn't just in their magic but in the way they took up space—unapologetically, dramatically, and without asking for permission.
It wasn't just about aesthetics (though, let's be honest, queer people have always appreciated a well-tailored villainous ensemble). It was about recognition. These characters were outsiders, just like us. They were ridiculed for being different, forced into exile, and made to fight for every ounce of their power. And yet—they stood out. They weren't waiting to be accepted; they were demanding reverence.
And so we clung to them. Maleficent with her cutting cheekbones and cool detachment. Ursula, the plus-sized sea witch who served camp and chaos in equal measure. Jafar, whose eyebrow arch alone could burn an empire to the ground. These were the ones who made us feel seen—not because they were evil, but because they were free.
A Safe Space in a Sea of Heteronormativity
In a world where so much of our existence is still debated, censored, or erased, there's something comforting about a place where queerness (intentional or subtextual) is celebrated. A character meet & greet at a theme park? That’s a pocket of magic where no one questions why a grown man is sobbing into Maleficent's velvet-clad shoulder. It's where we get to live in a fantasy where we're the main character, the hero, and the most important guest of the day.
Let's be honest: meet & greets are more than just character encounters. They're a chance for us to step fully into our most authentic selves, with a little theatrical flair. You want to pose shamelessly with Gaston? Do it. Want to quote every line of The Emperor's New Groove to Yzma? She will eat it up. The sheer joy of being able to play along without fear of judgment is an underrated form of self-care. It's drag without the tuck, therapy without the co-pay, a ballroom without the shade... sometimes.
Not Just Nostalgia, It's Healing
Sure, there's a nostalgia factor. We're revisiting the movies and moments that shaped us. But there's also something deeper at play—something restorative. When we stand in front of a character who once made us feel seen, we're reconnecting with that part of ourselves that was searching for belonging. And in that moment, in that perfectly-lit photo with Cinderella's wicked stepmother whispering sass into our ear, we realize we've had the power all along.
So, if anyone asks why I'm beelining for the Evil Queen instead of Space Mountain, I'll simply say: some people go to therapy. I go to meet & greets.
Written by Daryl Marez | Hiya! Subscribe to my author newsletter to receive news & project updates—Check out my other links for more.