No, Donald Trump is not Rumpelstiltskin

But there are plenty of reasons to keep teaching your kids fairy tales

Do you all remember the story of Rumpelstiltskin? I wonder if children deal with traditional myths and fairy tales any longer? Of course, a new mythology is being birthed as our melding with technology becomes even more pervasive. It’s being forged with new contemporary cultural artifacts, and it involves diverse rituals which run the gamut from video games and virtual reality, to novel psychedelic drugs and trips into the tropics to confront one’s demons and addictions.

But it’s a messy time. Like Gramsci said (at least approximately), “A new world is being born, this is the time of monsters.” Regardless of how accurate the translation may or may not be, I agree with the observation. It’s nice that we’re searching, trying to find new ways of imposing meaning on existence. It’s messy because amidst this becoming, there’s no push for solidarity among those who suffer most, and as such, no inclusive, all-encompassing counter-hegemony; no new myth can be created, for there is no central framework to attach itself to. This is going to be a period of pain, mostly self-inflicted, until we, as a species, learn our lesson about the nature of our commonly shared, very human masochism. As of this moment, it hasn’t happened in the US, and that’s because the hunger, violence, and despair have not yet hit critical mass.

So what are parents doing to teach their kids these days? They are not getting any sort of moral or ethical education in public schools. I spent a lot of time as an educator, so I know. In addition, they are not taught critical thinking. In fact, if you can’t afford to send your kid to good private schools and first-tier universities, they’ll likely never learn it: one more reason the wealthy have an unfair head start on those of us who grew up in working-class families. A few years ago I had a job teaching the classics to wealthy young Ukrainian students, and I guarantee you, when I was a kid in high school, any there was no one to whom I could say, “Help me with this Herodotus shit! And The Aeneid, come on!”

Plus, the diverse mishmash of whatever new mythology is evolving doesn’t present as a holistic system of belief, a way to understand the world. We’re not there yet, and there is still a lot to learn from fairy tales.

Rumpelstiltskin has a lot going on. You know the story, probably. A miller’s daughter is given to the king. The father has promised him that she can spin gold from straw, which, of course, she can’t. In her room in the castle, she knows her dad’s little hustle is about to be exposed. Then, a magical, dwarf-like creature appears and promises he can spin the gold. He wants more and more payment, and soon she’s given him everything of value that she has in her possession. But there’s still not enough gold. So the dwarf says, “Give me your firstborn daughter, and you’ve got a deal, baby. I’ll spin what you need!”

Of course, she complies, gets the gold, marries the king, and has a lovely little daughter. Rumpelstiltskin wants his due, but she tries everything to get out of the deal. He tells her, “If you can guess my name, you’re off the hook.”

Well, she is shit out of luck.

“It’s not Gooseneck, Spindleshanks, Spiderlegs?”

“Nope!”

Wealth means nothing to Rumpelstiltskin. He wants someone of his own to love. I know, we’ll get back to that later, I promise. Wipe the tear away because he does deserve some compassion, you’ll see.

So Rumple S. has mad flow and he’s doing a jig, freestyling when the maiden passes by his window: “Lady, ‘tis not a soul doth know / I’m Rumpelstiltskin, don’t you know?”

In his premature, celebratory hubris, the dwarf is undone. Self-sabotage is clearly one of the big takeaways, one of the major moral lessons in this little fable. But there is so much more going on. Who’s Donald Trump in this story? I’ve asked people before, but most don’t agree with my take.

The universe of Rumpelstiltskin is oddly complete. The dwarf is obviously an outcast, certainly not noble, and the butt of his own joke at the story’s end. This is typical in fairy tales, but the reality is that the world these people inhabit is messed up: sexist, patriarchal, and exploitative. It’s a world that forces fathers to sell their daughters, has leaders who are brutal and avaricious tyrants: a world where they’ve decided that the outcasts will be the ones to pay the price. Rumplestiltskin is another Shylock, another tragically misunderstood outcast whose demand for his pound of flesh is really a desperate plea to be loved.

Nothing has changed, especially not the relevance of traditional myth and fairy tales. The world of Rumpelstiltskin is the world we live in today.

The maiden and his daughter belong to a burgeoning capitalist class of merchants. The father, a sexist patriarch, pimps out his daughter to a tyrant. In turn, the maiden screws Rumpelstiltskin out of what she rightfully owes him, and all of the wealth flows up the ladder to the oligarchy’s most powerful aristocrat.

Rumpelstiltskin is presented as vulgar and impish because he lives outside of society’s network of exploitation and its lust for power. He unmasks the inequities of an entire social system: he’s a reminder of who these people truly are and that they live in a world run by creeps, who have written the rules to suit them and their fellow scoundrels.

Trump could be the king, but really, he’s the father. He’s a huckster who would sell his daughter into slavery for a stick of chewing gum, knowingly sending her to her doom. He is the lowest of the low in this tale. The king represents the deep state, the upper-echelon oligarchic and corporate interests that ensure global hegemony. Aside from Rumpelstiltskin, the maiden suffers the most. She’s an exploited worker and a victim of a patriarch who rats out her colleague as a matter of survival; hence, not as bad, but still morally flawed and more culpable than the dwarf.

No, Rumplestiltskin is the victim here. Sure, there’s the other lesson: If you know you’re enemy, you control them. But the real story is this: Rumpelstiltskin, alienated in a world he despises and which despises him, longs for something real: a daughter to have a relationship with. His is the only noble pursuit, and he is ironically portrayed as impish and selfish, despite being the most human person in the entire story. This is a typical motif that stretched back to the 16^th century, to those early novels of chivalry by authors like Margaret De Briet and other noblewomen, whose novelistic visions reflected a very cohesive system of privilege and ruling class power.

The only reason I wrote this is because I saw a dog-eared, decades-old copy of a fairy tale book I had as a child. My sister is now sharing it with her niece, and I wanted to fix the binding. Rumpelstiltskin was the first story I opened to, and I was just wondering how parents convey big truths to their kids these days.

Or if they even take the time to try.

No matter how old a text may be, there’s always a new way of teaching timeless truths to your kids, even in works that were written centuries ago, in an absolutist world run by monarchs. This story can tell us as much today as it did ages ago, and until we figure out where we’re going, read a book with your kid and see if there’s not something new to be learned.

Today, my niece knows more about the world.

And she agrees when it comes to who Trump is.

I have passed the test of my fiercest critic.