In Defense of Disney Villains (Except One)

Okay, so. This post exists because of a conversation that absolutely got out of hand.

It started innocently enough—a group chat between me and a few of the other authors where someone asked: who's your favorite fictional character? Easy question, right? Casual. Fun.

It was not casual. It was not fun. It was a forty-five minute argument where someone (not naming names, but she writes dark romance and has Opinions with a capital O) insisted that a morally complex antagonist doesn't count as a "favorite character" and I said excuse me, that is literally the entire genre of fiction I love most and then things escalated from there.

We covered dragons, detectives, antiheroes, and at some point someone brought up Disney villains and I said something like "okay but Maleficent had a point" and the chat imploded.

So here we are. You're welcome.

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Look, I need to confess something that might get me exiled from the Magic Kingdom: I understand the villains.

Not all of them. We'll get to the exception in a moment (because some monsters are just monsters). But most of Disney's so-called antagonists? They're just people who got dealt a bad hand by the universe and decided to play it anyway.

Let me explain.

Maleficent: The Uninvited Guest Who Had Feelings About It

Picture this: You're a powerful fairy. Everyone in the kingdom knows your name. You've probably done some impressive magical deeds that earned you a reputation (the kind that makes people nervous-invite you to things). And then one day, the royal family throws the social event of the century—a christening for the new princess—and somehow, somehow, your invitation gets "lost in the mail."

Except it didn't get lost. They just didn't send one.

Every other fairy got invited. The good ones, the cheerful ones, the ones who hand out blessings like party favors. But not you.

So Maleficent shows up anyway (because of course she does) and says, essentially: "Oh, you thought I wouldn't notice? Here's my gift—enjoy your very, very long nap, Princess."

Petty? Absolutely. Justifiable? Also yes.

If you're going to exclude someone, at least have the decency to expect consequences. The woman just wanted acknowledgment. Instead, she got erasure. And honestly? I'd curse a baby too. (Not really. But I'd think about it very hard.)

Ursula: The Outcast Who Kept Getting Uninvited Visitors

Ursula got bullied. Ostracized. Cast out from the underwater palace and left to fend for herself in the dark corners of the ocean. And what did people do once she was gone?

They kept showing up at her door asking for help.

Think about that for a second. You exile someone, tell them they're unwanted, make it clear they don't belong in your perfect kingdom—and then you still come knocking when you need something. No appointment. No courtesy. Just "Hey, I know we treated you like garbage, but can you work some magic for me real quick?"

Ursula wanted what everyone wants: love, power, a place in the world that doesn't feel like a consolation prize. She built her own kingdom out of the scraps they left her. And yeah, she played dirty. But she learned from the best—those who pushed her out in the first place.

I'm not saying she should've stolen Ariel's voice. I'm just saying I understand why she did it.

Scar: The Secondborn Shadow

Being the second-born is its own kind of curse.

You do all the same things your older sibling does—train, study, prove yourself—but they get the crown just because they arrived first. The throne was never really a competition. It was a foregone conclusion.

And Scar? He didn't just accept his fate. He found his people—the outcasts, the hyenas who were pushed to the edges of the Pride Lands and told they didn't deserve a place at the table. He promised them food. Fairness. A chance to stop starving while the lions feasted.

Was his plan perfect? No. Did it involve murder? Unfortunately, yes. But stripped of the melodrama, Scar's story is about someone who refused to stay in the shadows and decided to rewrite the narrative. Even if the narrative didn't survive the rewrite.

(Also, "Be Prepared" is an absolute banger of a villain song. I will not be taking questions.)

Hades: The God Who Drew the Short Straw

Let's be real: Hades got the worst job in the pantheon.

Zeus is up on Mount Olympus throwing lightning bolts and hosting celestial parties. Poseidon's ruling the seas, living his best aquatic life. And Hades? He's stuck in the Underworld managing literally all the dead people.

No vacation days. No appreciation. Just an eternity of paperwork and the occasional vengeful mortal trying to break out of his domain.

And people wonder why he's bitter.

Zeus is overrated anyway. The man couldn't stay faithful if his immortal life depended on it, but somehow he's the "king of the gods" and Hades is the villain? Please.

Hades deserved better. A spa day, at minimum. Maybe a chance to rule somewhere with sunlight.

And Then There's Cruella de Vil

I tried. I really did.

I looked for the sympathetic angle, the tragic backstory, the moment where I could say, "Ah, yes, I see why she became this way."

But no. Cruella de Vil is a straight-up monster.

She wanted to turn puppies into a coat. Puppies. Dalmatian puppies with their little spots and floppy ears and complete inability to defend themselves.

There's no "she was misunderstood" here. There's no "society failed her." She's just a villain, through and through. A fashionable, smoke-trailing, puppy-coveting nightmare.

I can't get behind that. I will not get behind that.

(Though if someone wanted to house 99 Dalmatian puppies in a creaky old mansion and needed a co-conspirator, I'm available. I'd make them little coats to wear in the snow. Coats made of fabric, because I'm not a monster.)

The Moral of the Story (If There Is One)

Villains aren't born in a vacuum. They're shaped by rejection, by being overlooked, by watching others get the life they wanted while they were handed the leftovers.

Sometimes, the line between hero and villain is just a matter of who got invited to the party.

And sometimes, a villain is just someone who decided they were tired of waiting for permission to matter.

Except Cruella. She's just terrible.

But the rest of them? I see you. I get it. And honestly, if the universe handed me your story, I'd probably curse a baby too.

(Okay, not really. But I'd definitely write a strongly worded letter.)

Indigo