Mulan Quotes

The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.

Seize the wind," I whispered. "Don't become the kite that never flies.

I had to cease to mourn what could never be and make the most of what was possible. And I would begin doing that by trying to mend the hurts of the past.

When will my reflection show who I am inside?

When did I turn into a needywhiny angsty idiot who needed to be swept off her feet? She snorted then started running again, forcing me into a brief sprint to catch up. We're conditioned from birth she said. I swear to god,if I ever have a daughter I'll ban all of the Disney princesses from the house. Except Mulan. She kicks ass.

No matter how the wind howls. The mountain cannot bow to it.

I have not led an ordinary life, nor a life that would suit everyone. I took great risks, but because I did, I also earned great reward. I found the way to show my true face freely, without fear. Because of this, I found true love.

The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

You must never call your enemy by a name you choose for him." “Instead you must call him by the name he calls himself. What he chooses will reflect his pride; it will reveal his desires. But what you choose to call him will reveal your fears, which should be kept to yourself, lest your enemy find the way to exploit them.

All of us show many faces to the world. No one shows her true face all of the time. To do that would be dangerous, for what is seen can also be known.

I am Fa Mulan, a girl who would sacrifice her life for her family and for China. I am a girl who journeyed into the Underworld to save her friend from dying. I am a girl who has fought battle after battle to finally recognize herself in the mirror. And now I do.

A Pandava must be so precise and so skilled that they can separate a shadow from its host! They can grab the wind! They are as swift as - ' 'A river!,' shouted Aru. Mini hollered, ' With the force of a great typhoon!' 'With all the strength of a raging fiiiiire - ' sang Brynne. 'STOP SINGING MULAN!' shouted Boo.

Sigh. Here's another fine woman that historians can't believe was real. Of course she was real. Not only is there a splendid Chinese poem called "The Ballad of Mulan", there is also an excellent cartoon by Disney.

Acting with discipline requires you to know your true nature and, having come to know it, to bring it under control.

At deception he means. Perhaps I am better than some, but every woman has a great deal of experience presenting herself as someone other than who she is, since no girl is ever everything the world wants her to be.

Yet the only girl who'd love him is his mother...' - A Girl Worth Fighting For (song)

personality makeover. Or maybe not. The more I think about it, the more this sounds like the plots of Ratatouille and Mulan combined.

Uhh... I mean, uh, sorry you had to see that, but you know how it is when you get those, uh, manly urges, and you just gotta kill somethin'...fix things, uh, cook outdoors...

Cinderella walked on broken glass Anurora let a whole lifetime pass Belle fell in love with a hideous beast Jasmine married a common thief Ariel walked on land for love Snow White barely escaped a knife because Rapunzel has to find a new dream Tiana kissed her prince and turned green Mulan left to be a man Pocahontas stayed to save her land It's all about the smiles and tears; because love means facing your biggest fears

Your belief in love wasn't strong enough to overcome your fear of rejection.

A single grain of rice can tip the scale. One man may be the difference between victory and defeat

I am not "just" a girl - no woman is. And if Heaven has deposited me at this time and place, then I am meant to deal with these problems, no matter their scale or consequence.

I needed to prove that I, as a woman, could be better than the rest of them. That I too could belong. That I too could be free.

Well, I always looked at Mulan as a movie about a lesbian coming out.

All of us show many faces to the world. No one shows her true face all the time. To do that would be dangerous, for what is seen can also be known. And what is known can be outmaneuvered, outguessed. Lifted up, or hunted down.

What is courage but strength in the face of fear?

My little baby, off to destroy people.

Oh! I'm gonna hit you so hard it'll make your ancestors dizzy!

In the weeks since I had made the decision to leave my father's house, I had grown up. And I had learned that not every battle can be fought by firing an arrow from a bow. But I would have to face whatever new challenges came my way as bravely as I had faced the Huns. I could not wallow in self-pity, thinking about what might have been. I had to do my duty. It was the only way to stay true to myself.

She gave off a little neigh when I reached to touch her cheek. I fell in love with her immediately. "You like her more than me," Edan pouted. "That's not hard to do." I petted her mane again; then offered Edan a small smile. "But thank you.

I always have a plan. Now, whether it’s a good plan can only be determined after it’s implemented.

When someone refuses to speak, those around him are left to imagine what his thoughts might be, and all too often the possibilities conjured up are not pleasant ones...Sometimes, no matter how much you wish to proclaim them, it is better to keep your thoughts to yourself. Speaking out when someone else is silent puts the speaker at a disadvantage.

i had to cease to mourn what could never be & learn to make the most of what was possible. & i would begin by trying to mend the hurts of the past

Do you believe in reincarnation?" "I . . . I don't know." "I do. Next lifetime, let's not waste years upon years. Let's be friends from the very beginning.

only the brave may enter, but only the worthy may leave.

Thief, caring friend, purloiner of treats—what’s the difference?” “According to my vocabulary knowledge—which, apparently, is far superior to yours—there’s quite a bit of difference.

Her reflection's hair was short, but she wore a simple violet robe tied at the waist with a blue sash. At her hip was her father's sword, and tucked in her hair- a blossom from their family's cherry tree. Mulan knelt and lowered her fingers to the glass. It rippled at her touch. "This one. This is me." A beat. Are you sure? asked the girl in the mirror. "Yes," said Mulan firmly. "It doesn't matter whether I'm a girl dressed like a bride, or a girl dressed like a soldier. I know my heart." Mulan flattened her hand against the glass, facing her reflection. Together, they said, "I am Fa Mulan, a girl who would sacrifice her life for her family and for China. I am a girl who journeyed into the Underworld to save her friend from dying. I am a girl who has fought battle after battle to finally recognize herself in the mirror. And now I do.

but every woman has a great deal of experience presenting herself as someone other than who she is, since no girl is ever everything the world wants her to be.

Are elderly women easier to fool than seven-year-olds? Which one wants more desperately to believe that a loved one will return against all odds?

Tragicomic absurdity from Disney World, as the pack of Ariel, Belle, Jasmine, Mulan fell upon children, each red bite a boutonniere.

It doesn’t work that way,” Ryn starts to say, but I cut him off. “Then you do dishonor me,” I accuse, using the term that Zeph did and trying to ignore the fact that I sound like the dragon from Mulan.

Brotherhood might be unique to men, but loyalty, devotion to friends, and a sense of fairness are not. They are the precise reasons I became a conscript in Dabao's place. I could never have been at peace with myself knowing that it was within my power to do something for Auntie Xia and Dabao and not have done it.

Mulan stared at the steaming liquid, watching the dried leaves swirl to the bottom. How beautiful the tea looked, too- she'd never seen tea so colorful. Reds and pinks swirled in with amber and blue- like the mesmerizing patterns on a butterfly.

The Lady of Forgetfulness passed the sword to Mulan, but Mulan shook her head. "It's yours, not mine. I have my father's sword waiting for me back in the real world." Meng Po smiled again. "Then take this, as a memory of the battles you have fought here." The sword disappeared, and in its place was a magnolia blossom. Its petals were soft and pink like the blush of a peach. Meng Po tucked the blossom behind Mulan's ear. "There. A reminder that where there is beauty, there is also strength and courage and resilience.

Mulan tried to Keep Herself from Blushing. The Young Man in Front of Her Was Tall,Lean and Very, Very Handsome. His Eyes Were Twinkling and Kind He offered his Hand Again. Distracted by His Good Looks and the Charming Smile He was Flashing at Her, Mulan Almost, Almost Took His hand but Then She Stopped.

We must be in the heart of Diyu." "The heart of Diyu is a garden?" Mulan spoke up. As far as she could see were flowers and trees, all so lush and beautiful Mulan could almost forget she was in the Underworld. Tall grass tickled her waist as she stepped up to a tangerine tree. Behind it was a tinkling brook, teeming with white-and-red-spotted carp.

You fight good.

A woman in combat? Yes. Since when? Since Native American warrior Buffalo Calf Road Woman knocked that prick General George Custer off of his horse. Since Pantea Arteshbod propelled herself to become one of the greatest Persian commanders during the reign of Cyrus the Great. Since Hua Mulan disguised herself as a male to engage in combat and became one of China’s most respected heroines.

She landed on a soft, yielding bed of- flowers? Startled, she sat up and gave a quick stretch before leaping to her feet. An overwhelming aroma of peonies and tangerines and lotus blossoms surrounded her. "Not what I expected," she murmured to herself, overcome by the beauty of this level. If not for ShiShi still stuck in the well, she would have stopped to take a better look at her surroundings.

She'd grown up with few friends. She'd played with the neighborhood boys, chasing pigeons and catching fireflies with them until it was no longer considered proper. By then, the girls in the village scorned her. In front of her mother and father, they pretended to be polite, but Mulan knew what they said about her behind her back. Ill-bred and ill-mannered. She has the temper of a firecracker and the grace of a bull. It's a miracle she even looks like a girl- look at the hay in her hair, and the dirt on her face. What a discredit to her mother! The insults had never bothered Mulan too much. Back then, her mother comforted her by telling her to ignore what people said, and talking to her father would always make her feel better. And she'd had Khan for company... then, later, Mushu and Cri-Kee.

ShiShi landed on his paws with a thump. "Still there, little soldier?" Mulan caught her breath and waited a beat for her stomach to stop churning. "Still here." The stone lion grunted, a sound that somehow indicated he was half impressed that she was still in one piece and half disappointed that the fall hadn't terrified her. "Most men get sick on the way down here." I'm not most men, Mulan thought, but she kept quiet and climbed off ShiShi's back.

There’s a balance here of yin and yang, a dance between aggression and gentleness that creates real strength in any warrior. Attack, and fall back. Thrust and parry. It’s beautiful, really.” Mulan thrust her sword forward and then skipped back. “A balance of yin and yang,” she repeated. “I don't have to turn myself into a man to fight or rule. And I don't have to be a docile woman like my ministers expect me to be. I can be gentle and strong as circumstances requires.

There’s our homecoming picture. Last Halloween, when I dressed up as Mulan and Peter wore a dragon costume. There’s a receipt from Tart and Tangy. One of his notes to me, from before. If you make Josh’s dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it’s over. Pictures of us from Senior Week. Prom. Dried rose petals from my corsage. The Sixteen Candles picture. There are some things I didn’t include, like the ticket stub from our first real date, the note he wrote me that said, I like you in blue. Those things are tucked away in my hatbox. I’ll never let those go. But the really special thing I’ve included is my letter, the one I wrote to him so long ago, the one that brought us together. I wanted to keep it, but something felt right about Peter having it. One day all of this will be proof, proof that we were here, proof that we loved each other. It’s the guarantee that no matter what happens to us in the future, this time was ours. When he gets to that page, Peter stops. “I thought you wanted to keep this,” he said. “I wanted to, but then I felt like you should have it. Just promise you’ll keep it forever.” He turns the page. It’s a picture from when we took my grandma to karaoke. I sang “You’re So Vain” and dedicated it to Peter. Peter got up and sang “Style” by Taylor Swift. Then he dueted “Unchained Melody” with my grandma, and after, she made us both promise to take a Korean language class at UVA. She and Peter took a ton of selfies together that night. She made one her home screen on her phone. Her friends at her apartment complex said he looked like a movie star. I made the mistake of telling Peter, and he crowed about it for days after. He stays on that page for a while. When he doesn’t say anything, I say, helpfully, “It’s something to remember us by.” He snaps the book shut. “Thanks,” he says, flashing me a quick smile. “This is awesome.

Most importantly, it's a message that assumes absolute and unrealistic able-bodiedness. No one with glasses. No crutches, no wheelchairs, no visible differences from girl to girl apart from the colour of their eyes and hair. Perfectly symmetrical faces abound. Some of the princesses – Mulan and Merida in particular – are athletes, with the kind of unrealistic body control and power that even able-bodied people often struggle to obtain. The message is that heroism isn't possible without physical 'perfection,' especially for girls.

All they could do was flutter their fans and bat their eyes. The matchmaker Mother hired bragged that they were perfect porcelain dolls. What she didn't say was they had no minds of their own." Shang grimaced at the memory without looking at her. "They'd say anything to make me like them." How familiar that sounds. Mulan put her hands on her hips. "Not all girls are like that. You have to look at it from their perspective, too. Girls are raised to be pretty and graceful, and quiet." She made a face. "They aren't allowed to speak their minds, and they don't have a choice in who they marry. My parents were lucky that they fell in love, but their marriage was arranged, too. And my mother, she doesn't even belong to her family anymore after they got married. It wasn't my mother's decision, but her family's. They told her that a woman's only role in life is to bear sons." Shang leaned forward. "You sound quite passionate about this." His closeness made Mulan hunch back. Remembering who she was pretending to be, she felt her cheeks burn. "I just... I mean, I bet there are some girls who'd make better soldiers than boys. If they were given the chance." "A female soldier? That's the craziest thing I've heard." "Girls can be strong, too." "Not like us, Ping." Mulan hid a smile. "You'd be surprised.

This garden was peaceful and calm. Pink cherry blossoms and violet plum blossoms graced the sweeping trees. The petals fell like snowflakes, dancing and swirling until they touched the soft, verdant grass. There was something familiar about this place. Her eyes traveled down the flat stone steps. She knew this path, knew those stones. The third one from the bottom had a crack in the middle- from when she was five and the neighbor's boy convinced her there were worms on the other side of the stones. She'd hammered the stone in half, eager to catch a few worms to play with. There weren't any, of course, but her mother had helped her find some dragonflies by the pond instead, and they'd spent an afternoon counting them in the garden. Mulan smiled wistfully at the memory. This can't be the same garden. I'm in Diyu. Yet no painter could have re-created what she saw more convincingly. Every detail was as she remembered. At the bottom of the stone-cobbled path was a pond with rose-flushed lilies, and a marble bench under the cherry tree. She used to play by the pond when she was a little girl, catching frogs and fireflies in wine jugs and feeding the fish leftover rice husks and sesame seeds until her mother scolded her. And beyond the moon gate was- Mulan's hand jumped to her mouth. Home. That smell of home- of Baba's incense from the family temple, sharp with amber and cedar; of noodles in Grandmother Fa's special pork broth; of jasmine flowers that Mama used to scent her skin.

Then, remembering that strange sword just to her side, she leaned over the mountain edge to inspect it. The hilt was dull with age, but still gold, with short wings at the base of the blade that pointed forward. It had to be hundreds of years old. Mulan was about to leave it, but there was something inscribed on the blade itself. She could see only the first word. It was the same as in her name: Fa. Flower. Curious now, she reached down and tried to wrench the sword free. It was stuck tight. "Let me help." Shang knelt beside her and clasped the edge of the hilt. Together, they pulled. Out slid the sword. The weight of it nearly tipped Mulan over the mountain, but she caught herself in time and backed up away from the ledge. Catching her breath, she laid the sword on the grass, wiping it clean of dirt and grime. The characters on the blade glittered in the moonlight. "'The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

Her sword weighed heavily in her hand. She stared at the polished blade, wondering if its reflection would be the last sight she ever caught of herself. Would she die as Ping, the Fa son she'd made up so she could join the army in her father's place? If she died here, in the middle of this snow-covered mountain pass, she'd never see her father or her family again. Mulan swallowed hard. Who would believe that only a few months ago, her biggest concern had been impressing the Matchmaker? She could barely remember the girl she'd been back then. She'd worn layer upon layer of silk, not plates of armor, her waist cinched tightly with a satin sash instead of sore from carrying a belt of weapons. Her lips had been painted with rouge instead of chapped from cold and lack of water, her lashes highlighted with coal that she now could only dream of using to fuel a fire for warmth. How far she'd come from that girl to who she was now: a soldier in the Imperial army. Maybe serving her country as a warrior was truer to her heart than being a bride. Yet when she saw her reflection in her sword, she knew she was still pretending to be someone else.

Now, let me preface this story with the following: If you think that I am in any way endorsing cultural appropriation by writing this, you should just stop reading. I swear to Goddess,* if I hear about any one of you reading this passage and deciding, “Okay, yeah, great, the moral of this story is that Jacob thinks it’s awesome for white people to dress up as Native Americans for Halloween, so I’m gonna go do that,” I will use the power of the internet to find out where you live and throw so many eggs at your house that it becomes a giant omelet. Or if you’re vegan, I will throw so much tofu at your house that it becomes a giant tofu scramble. The point of this passage is not that white people should dress their children as Native Americans for Halloween. That’s basically the opposite of the point here. Capisce? All that being said, it was 1997. I was six years old and hadn’t quite developed my political consciousness about cultural appropriation or the colonization of the Americas and subsequent genocide of Native American people at the hands of white settlers yet. I also didn’t know multiplication, so I had some stuff to work on. What I did know was that Pocahontas was, by far, the most badass Disney princess. Keep in mind that Disney’s transgender-butch-lesbian masterpiece Mulan wasn’t released until a year later, or else I would’ve obviously gone with that (equally problematic) costume.

Little by little, his eyes warmed into that dusky shade of brown she'd come to miss. A shadow traced the outline of his body, from the curve in his neck to the powerful slope of his shoulders. As his glimmering blue aura faded, his hair blackened, and his skin, bronzed from years of training under the sun, glowed with life. She had no idea what came over her- impulse or instinct- but she reached for Shang's hand. He looked surprised, and for an instant she wondered whether it was because he could feel her touch, or because she had reached for him. Maybe both. Shang's stance loosened, and he drew her close, not letting go of her hand. "I told you once you were the craziest man I'd ever met. I guess I have to change that to the craziest woman." Mulan laughed. "You're delaying us from leaving Diyu to tell me that?" "And that Ping was right about his sister." Now Mulan lifted her chin, curious. "Why is that?" "She's strong and kind and beautiful and brave...." "And also speaks her mind," Mulan reminded him. "... Honest, in the way that counts most." "And she occasionally disobeys orders," Mulan warned him, "even from her commanding officer." "... She has discerning judgment." Mulan smiled. Tentatively, she reached for a wisp of hair that clung to Shang's temple. She brushed it aside gently, and Shang caught her hand in his and brought it to his chest. Mulan's skin tingled. "I'll never meet another girl like her," he said. "Now that the war is over, I'd be a fool to let her out of my sight.

She started to head out, but she passed her room. It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home. The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror. Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder. She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. After all, her surname, Fa, meant flower. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name. But no one was here, and she didn't want to face her reflection. Who knew what it would show, especially in Diyu? She isn't a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn't be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbors will talk. She won't find a good husband- Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she'll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn't understood what he meant then. She hadn't understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who skipped learning ribbon dances to ride Khan through the village rice fields, who chased after chickens and helped herd the cows instead of learning the zither or practicing her painting, who was allowed to have opinions- at all. She'd taken the freedom of her childhood for granted. When she turned fourteen, everything changed. I know this will be a hard change to make, Fa Li had told her, but it's for your own good. Men want a girl who is quiet and demure, polite and poised- not someone who speaks out of turn and runs wild about the garden. A girl who can't make a good match won't bring honor to the family. And worse yet, she'll have nothing: not respect, or money of her own, or a home. She'd touched Mulan's cheek with a resigned sigh. I don't want that fate for you, Mulan. Every morning for a year, her mother tied a rod of bamboo to Mulan's spine to remind her to stand straight, stuffed her mouth with persimmon seeds to remind her to speak softly, and helped Mulan practice wearing heeled shoes by tying ribbons to her feet and guiding her along the garden. Oh, how she'd wanted to please her mother, and especially her father. She hadn't wanted to let them down. But maybe she hadn't tried enough. For despite Fa Li's careful preparation, she had failed the Matchmaker's exam. The look of hopefulness on her father's face that day- the thought that she'd disappointed him still haunted her. Then fate had taken its turn, and Mulan had thrown everything away to become a soldier. To learn how to punch and kick and hold a sword and shield, to shoot arrows and run and yell. To save her country, and bring honor home to her family. How much she had wanted them to be proud of her.

You must think I’m stupid Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella waiting for her prince to rescue her.” “Celine...” “You are wrong. Yes, I believe in fairy tales. But I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m Mulan. I don’t need rescuing. It’s you who needs to be rescued. And I’m going to be your knight, Dare. I’m going to save you from yourself.

Horseshit? Fuck you. I will defend my Belle and Mulan awesome warrior princess road comedy fan fiction to the fucking death.

And to all of the challenges and rewards of my new life.

From up here she had a clear view of the garden below. Just next to the wall was the worn bench where Mulan had so often sat with Grandmother, helping her sort vegetables as Nai Nai told fantastic stories of the monkey king, the zodiac animals, the thunder god's wife, and the woman on the moon. When Mulan expressed awe at those adventures, Grandmother told her about the adventures in store for her. "See how wide your forehead is?" Grandmother would say. "That means you'll travel far and bring back good fortune." "I will?" Mulan responded, rapt. "Yes, but it will not be easy," Nai Nai said, and she'd point to a scar on Mulan's temple from a childhood fall. "That scar means you'll struggle and face hardship, but if you persevere, you will overcome it." How right Grandmother been. During long cold nights in the army, when the ground sent icicles through her hopes, Mulan had clung to Grandmother's words.

If I’ve shifted anything, it’s only because you, Mama, and Nai Nai lent me your strength.” As Mulan out a long breath, a spark leapt from one of the incense sticks. As it floated downward, it seemed inexplicably to multiply, over and over until there were hundreds of sparks floating in the air of the temple. “Baba,” Mulan whispered. The sparks rearranged themselves, clustering, expanding, and re-forming, until they became a dragon that soared through the air. Next to it, a fiery bird flapped its wings. They cavorted together, chasing each other in dizzying circles, until, suddenly, they scattered again into ash. The glowing sparks floated slowly to the ground and winked out one by one.

Don’t you realize you’re a hero?” said Shang. “Your legend grows by the year. Fa Mulan, fearless warrior and savior of China. The one who buried Shan Yu’s armies under a mountaintop of ice.” “It was just a well-aimed rocket.” Mulan remembered the crack of ice, the avalanche cascading down. “The warrior who came to the emperor’s aid when Shan Yu took him hostage. Who fought and defeated Shan Yu in mortal combat atop a palace roof, saving the emperor and restoring China to its rightful ruler. All while wearing a dress.

You are the hero whose quick thinking saved our country. You are the warrior who risked great personal loss and dishonor to protect your family and, by extension, all of China.” It was absurd, the disconnect between the emperor’s words and Mulan’s own conception of herself. Yes, she supposed she had done these things, but she was also just Mulan, Fa Hsu’s daughter, who tripped over chickens and stole sweet buns from the kitchen.

I heard the story of how you dressed up as a man to join the army, and I was awestruck at your act of rebellion. I mean, I had long given up on behaving as a virtuous woman should, but what you did was something else altogether.” She took a large sip of wine. “It was only after I met you that I realized you were one of the biggest rule followers in existence.” Mulan didn’t think “rule follower” was quite the right term, but she understood what Liwen meant. Mulan felt the binds of duty strongly. It was no rebellious streak that had sent her into the army, but her love for her father. Her absolute refusal to let him die a senseless death.

Mulan found it easier to face the morning by pretending that her clothes were armor. The stiff coronation robe Ting was smoothing down over her shoulders? She imagined it woven with threads of spun gold, the embroidered phoenixes stitched with blazing-red iron. Her sash, hanging loose down her back, was a shoulder guard of blue iron, and the phoenixes on her shoes were spikes and spurs. “Please keep your head forward, Empress.” A handmaiden gripped a handful of hair, pulling it taut enough to make Mulan’s eyes water. The hair, at least, was easy to imagine as a helmet. By the time the maid finished wrapping it around multiple combs and adorning the layered buns with everything from flowers to jade to tiny golden bells, Mulan’s coiffure would stop arrows far better than anything the imperial blacksmiths could craft. The maid inserted one last pin and stepped back. “All done.” She pulled the train of Mulan’s robe out as Mulan stepped in front of a full-length mirror. Mulan’s reflection was warped and metallic on the coppery finish, but she could see that she was made up as intricately as the finest ladies of court, her face powdered white, her eyes lined with charcoal, and her lips painted red as her sash. Her eyebrows had been shaved and drawn back in with blue-black pigment. Tiny silver beads adorned her yellow-tinted forehead, and three flowers had been painted on her right cheek. “Armor,” Mulan said under her breath. “Your Majesty?” “Nothing, just talking to myself.

Mulan found it easier to face the morning by pretending that her clothes were armor. The stiff coronation robe Ting was smoothing down over her shoulders. She imagined it woven with threads of spun gold, the embroidered phoenixes stitched with blazing-red iron. Her sash, hanging loose down her back, was a shoulder guard of blue iron, and the phoenixes on her shoes were spikes and spurs. “Please keep your head forward, Empress.” A handmaiden gripped a handful of hair, pulling it taut enough to make Mulan’s eyes water. The hair, at least, was easy to imagine as a helmet. By the time the maid finished wrapping it around multiple combs and adorning the layered buns with everything from flowers to jade to tiny golden bells, Mulan’s coiffure would stop arrows far better than anything the imperial blacksmiths could craft. The maid inserted one last pin and stepped back. “All done.” She pulled the train of Mulan’s robe out as Mulan stepped in front of a full-length mirror. Mulan’s reflection was warped and metallic on the coppery finish, but she could see that she was made up as intricately as the finest ladies of court, her face powdered white, her eyes lined with charcoal, and her lips painted red as her sash. Her eyebrows had been shaved and drawn back in with blue-black pigment. Tiny silver beads adorned her yellow-tinted forehead, and three flowers had been painted on her right cheek. “Armor,” Mulan said under her breath. “Your Majesty?” “Nothing, just talking to myself.

China is indeed favored by the gods to have such a lovely blossom grace its throne.” Out of the corner of her eye, Mulan saw Shang’s expression darken. She too heard the insult in those words. Flowers were beautiful and delicate. Ornamental. She bared her teeth in a thin smile. “I’m quite fond of flowers myself. After your’e settled in the state guesthouses, you must tour the imperial gardens. There’s a particular variety called snow lace, a white blossom with rose-tinged petals. I collected it myself from the Tung-Shao Pass. Are you familiar with that region?” The ambassador’s smirk froze on his face. The Tung-Shao Pass was where Mulan’s regiment had defeated Shan Yu’s men. There were already multiple ballads commemorating how Mulan used a rocket to trigger the avalanche that buried his entire army. “Yes, I am familiar with that pass.” “I’m glad,” said Mulan. “It’s the mark of a good ambassador to know his host nation’s land and history, and I’m sure you are one of the very best.

Most women don’t have the option to say no to men or refuse their orders. You are the empress. You have the strength of the spirits, of women who came before you and who will come after you. Why let your decisions be made for you?

”What was the symbol, now? Something like this?” She fanned her fingers and then placed both fists together in an exact imitation of what Mulan had seen. “Yes, that’s it!” Grandmother fanned out her fingers. “A fan, covering the face. A coy maiden, if you will, with secrets. And this”—-she put her fists together—-“is the maiden holding a sword. A symbol for the warrior queen. Hidden strength.”

The first female empress in history is hardly everyday politics. You must have some thoughts about her qualifications.” “There’s more to ruling than ability,” said Mulan, unable to fully disguise the bitterness in her voice. “The most competent man in the world will drive a country to ruin if he wields his power for his own gain. A ruler needs to be honest and honorable, to rule with the good of the country in mind.

Make me a banner of gold and red. I want an emblem of a dragon and a phoenix, and it must be completed tonight.” Dragon for emperor, phoenix for empress. Dragon for power and authority. Phoenix, that symbol of yin-yang harmony, because she was a woman and unashamed to be one.

Mulan was proud of these women. Proud of their calm preparations, proud of the ease with which they strapped on their weapons, their gentle yet firm touch with their horses. And she was proud, most of all, of the banner that flew over their heads. It was mud yellow rather than the rich gold of palace silks, since mud yellow was the only shade Ruolan could manage with the herbs at hand. The dragon and phoenix pictured on it were bare outlines. But Ruolan and Wenling had stayed up all night to embroider them, and Mulan could see the heart that had gone into every stitch. Now they would put down their needles and wield their swords with no less skill.

You say that hens should not announce the dawn.” She spoke powerfully enough for all to hear. “And yet it has happened every morning since the day I was crowned. You presumed to know Heaven’s will, claiming that the five falling stars at my coronation were Heaven’s disapproval of me, rather than indictments of your own treachery. But the spirits have spoken. I am the rightful empress of China, chosen by my predecessor and given the Mandate of Heaven. And I will remain empress of China until the gods, not you, decide otherwise.

What I need,” Mulan said quietly, “is someone who will stand by my side. Someone who will support me in my role.” She looked at him, willing her heart into her eyes. “Someone who loves me, and whom I love in return.” As Shang gazed back at her, everything around them became blurred, muffled. Finally, she spoke the terrifying, hopeful words. “I want you to marry me, Shang.” In that moment, Mulan could hear nothing but her heart beating in her ears. For what seemed like an eternity, silence hung between them. Shang let out a shaky breath. His expression wasn’t a clear yes, and Mulan’s soul froze. “Mulan,” he said. “Heavens know I want nothing more, but I worry I’ll be holding you back.” Relief flooded through her at his words. She took his hands. “Shang, we’ve led China to victory now, not once but twice. You don't hold me back. Your love makes me stronger.

The list of Hollywood blockbusters that conform to the hero’s journey paradigm is almost innumerable. Just off the top of my head? The Wizard of Oz; The Matrix; Jaws; the Star Wars films; Titanic; Braveheart; the Harry Potter series; Rocky; The Lord of the Rings; The Lion King; Finding Nemo; Forrest Gump; The Incredibles; Silence of the Lambs; Mulan; Gladiator; Aladdin; Indiana Jones; Beauty and the Beast; and Dances with Wolves/Avatar (watch them back-to-back).

Hua Mulan wore trousers.' I invoke one of my heroes, the girl who took on an army and proved herself the equal of any man. 'Hua Mulan wore trousers because she was a warrior', Big Wang says. 'You are a lady.

When I was growing up, there was only one Disney princess who looked like me. And Mulan was great, don't get me wrong. But just because I didn't have blond hair like the other princesses didn't mean I couldn't be who I wanted to be.

If you can dream it, you can do it. Always remember that this whole thing was started with a dream and a mouse.” “All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.” “It's kind of fun to do the impossible.” “Laughter is timeless. Imagination has no age. And dreams are forever.” “The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.

Cinders is perfect for every fan who ever wished Cinderella could be a bit more like Mulan, and for everyone who loved The Princess Bride, but wished Buttercup would pick up her sword and fight for herself once in awhile.”—Jess Evander, author of the TimeShifters series  

Very Well, BUT You are my equal. We fight together against the same enemy. I will do all I can to protect the others. You can turn your back on me, but when the time comes, do not turn your back on them.

The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

Looking at Mulan, the soldier felt pride, but also compassion. Mulan had mastered the art of war, but there remained obstacles ahead, dangers more nuanced than a simple exchange of swords. She was close to fulfilling her destiny, but first, she'd have to learn the way of the spirits, to use their strength as her own. And she would know pain. Because the fenghuang, the phoenix, that guardian of imperial harmony, does not grant its blessing to everyone. Only the most honest, loyal, and selfless. The one who is brave against encroaching darkness.

The soft pit-pat of her footfalls echoed through dark hallways as she tiptoed toward the courtyard. Outside, the evening air was crisp. The fragrance of sweet osmanthus wafted across her path as crickets chirped near the burbling stream. Mulan followed a stone walkway over a bridge and under a round archway that took her out of their inner yard. A small red pagoda sat atop the hill beyond.

matchmaker

The project was already in development before I joined the division. I was at Touchstone Pictures in live action, and I had heard that they were doing Mulan, it was picking up heat, and they were interested in moving it beyond development. That was actually the reason why I went over to Disney Feature Animation. I was like, if they’re going to make Mulan, I have to be a part of it, because this isn’t going to happen again for 20 more years. And in fact, the next time there was a Chinese family in a global animated film, it was Abominable, 21 years later.

No Matter How The Wind Howls, The Mountain Cannot Bow To It.

farther

She needed to go back to the Imperial City. Not only to continue serving her country but also for the young women in her town, the young women in China. She'd been given the extraordinary chance to set an example for them and for the generations that came after: she could show all of China that a woman was capable of anything--- not only of becoming someone's wife.

It's hard to be interested in what men have to say when all you think we should do is bear sons." The advisors gasped collectively. But the Emperor smiled. "Then tell us, Fa Mulan. What should a woman do?" Mulan lifted her chin. "A woman is equal to a man," she said firmly. "She should have the chance to be educated as a man, and she should be able to speak her mind and be heard and listened to." One of the advisors snorted. "Next you'll be saying that women should be able to own land and take the civil exams!" The men laughed. "Well, why not?" Mulan challenged. "Or are you afraid that we'll surpass you all?" Their laughter died.

I didn't want to be an advisor in the first place." "You didn't want to be a soldier, either," Shang reminded her. "But you turned out to be pretty good at it." "Only pretty good?" Shang smiled, and Mulan did, too. "You'll make a great advisor. You know how I know? Because you have the courage to do what you know is right rather than what others have told you to.

At least when she'd been a soldier in the army, she'd had a clear idea of what was expected of her: fight to defend China. But the war was over, and thanks to her, Shan-Yu had been defeated. It was unheard of for a woman to be a military hero, and the last thing Mulan had anticipated was for the Emperor himself to publicly honor her in front of the entire capital, then ask her to become one of his advisors--- the most coveted and respected position in the Imperial City, offered only to the top scholars in all of China!

Our shy little baby is growing up,” Tara teased. “All grown up and off to fight in the war,” Paige added. “What is with you two and that movie?” Anna chuckled. “Bite your tongue, bitch,” Tara feigned anger. “Mulan is a classic.

She isn’t a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn’t be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbours will talk. She won’t find a good husband— Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she’ll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn’t understood what he meant then. She hadn’t understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who

every woman has a great deal of experience presenting herself as someone other than who she is, since no girl is ever everything the world wants her to be. But

Every competition I entered I could hear “Please bring honor to us all” from the movie Mulan in my head, and just like Mulan, I didn’t know the girl staring back at me when she looked at herself in the river in full drag.