So, you're telling me that these were fairytales?

Once upon a time, fairytales carried more influence than we may realise. They were not just whimsical stories of magic and castles. They were cultural tools.

In earlier centuries, fairytales were part of an oral tradition. They entertained, taught lessons, and helped explain a world that was often unpredictable and dangerous.

Parents and elders used them to instil values, warn of risks, and reinforce social order.

Over time, these stories shifted. As they moved into print, and later into children’s books, many of the darker and more violent elements were softened. What remained were tales that seemed safe enough to tell at night, and so they became known as bedtime stories. Yet even then, the moral instructions and cultural expectations stayed embedded.

Fairytales were not neutral. They shaped how generations of children understood themselves and their place in the world. Much attention has been given to the messages directed at girls be kind, be patient, be beautiful, wait for rescue. Boys were not exempt from this training. They too absorbed messages about bravery, strength, sacrifice, and what it meant to be a man. The stories worked in tandem, scripting the roles each gender was expected to play.

Let’s revisit them. Not as bedtime tales, but as cultural narratives. And let’s imagine what a therapist might hear if these characters walked in and simply said, “This is what happened to me.”

Cinderella

She loses both parents and is forced into domestic servitude by her stepfamily. She stays quiet, polite, and obedient. Her break? A stranger dances with her, notices her beauty, and searches the kingdom for the girl who the shoe fits as he didn’t remember what she looked like. It was framed as romance. Yet the deeper lesson? Suffer in silence and you might be rewarded. Be nice. Be pretty. Do not make a fuss.

Ariel

She trades her voice for legs, chasing a man she barely knows. She abandons her family and her identity for the chance at love, without being able to speak a single word. Her story celebrates longing but glorifies self-erasure. Ariel’s silence was not strength. It was sacrifice.

Belle

She offers herself in captivity to save her father. Over time, she softens toward her captor, told her kindness changed him. That her love reformed him. Belle loves books and intellect, which felt progressive. Yet beneath the surface the message, women should stay and fix what is broken, even if it breaks them too. Stockholm syndrome.

Elsa

She is taught to hide who she is. Years of isolation convince her that her feelings are dangerous. Her power is dangerous. She learns to lock it all away. Elsa embodies repression. Her eventual freedom comes only after years of fear and shame. It echoes what happens when children inherit silence instead of safety.

Mulan

She cannot bring honour as herself, so she disguises her identity to serve in war. She faces trauma, pressure, and the constant threat of exposure. She triumphs, but only after outshining every man around her. Her tale celebrates courage yet reveals a deeper truth. Women must work twice as hard, often invisibly, just to be seen.

Rapunzel

Locked in a tower by someone claiming to love her, she is told the world outside is too dangerous. When she escapes, she is weighed down by guilt and confusion, unsure who to trust. Her story reflects control disguised as care. Growth begins only when she questions everything, she was told about herself and the world.

Snow White

Envied for her beauty, she is cast out by a woman terrified of ageing. Taken in by seven men who expect her to cook and clean, she is eventually poisoned simply for existing. Her prize? Being claimed by a man she never knew. Her tale taught girls to be sweet and passive, to let beauty speak for them. Even unconscious, Snow White had more value than women who dared to age, resist, or demand space.

What About the Boys?

Fairytales also carried heavy expectations for male characters. Their role was often: be the rescuer, the fighter, the provider of safety. Strength and courage were rewarded. Vulnerability and doubt were rarely acknowledged or discouraged.

These stories set up expectations for boys to lead and problem-solve, even when they are still children themselves. Their worth lies in their ability to guide and shield others, even in impossible situations.

Hansel and Gretel

Hansel takes charge, leaving a trail of stones and then crumbs to guide them home. He is positioned as protector of his sister. Yet when both children are trapped, it is Gretel who defeats the witch.

The Frog Prince

The male figure begins as something undesirable, even repulsive. Only through the affection and acceptance of a girl does he transform into a prince. The message to boys: your true value will be revealed when you are chosen. A woman’s love is the catalyst that makes you whole.

Prince Charming

Across stories like Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty, princes serve a narrow function. They fight, they rescue, they arrive just in time.

They rarely have depth or identity outside the act of saving. This created a cultural script for boys that love is something you win through action, conquest, or timing. The inner life of the male hero was less important than his ability to perform strength and provide salvation.

So, What Were Fairytales Really Teaching?

Fairytales were never only about enchantment. They were cultural training grounds. For girls, they offered instructions in obedience, beauty, sacrifice, and patience. For boys, they reinforced scripts of bravery, conquest, and rescue. Both were narrow paths that left little space for vulnerability, complexity, or individuality.

As bedtime stories, they comforted children (or did they?) with the idea that order would return, that good would triumph, that endings would be happy. Yet beneath the sparkle, they shaped generations of expectations: how to love, how to behave, how to belong.

What these tales truly reveal is the quiet power of cultural narratives. They may not shout their lessons, they may whisper them. Over time, they sink in. They teach children how to see themselves and others, often without question. For girls, the force was to be chosen. For boys, the force was to prove themselves.

Maybe the real happily ever after begins when we notice those forces, question them, and create space for new stories. Stories where strength can look like care, where love does not require sacrifice, and where both girls and boys are free to write endings of their own.