Understanding the Appeal of Being a Disney Adult

At a recent backyard gathering in Los Angeles, filled with trendy guests and $30 Erewhon smoothies, a conversation about Disney adults emerged. My best friend and I, among acquaintances, dove into the topic. When I mentioned I held an annual pass to Disneyland, the response was mixed—some seemed surprised, while others found it amusing. My friend, sensing the room, attempted to alleviate any judgment. “Well, you’re not like a Disney adult,” he interjected. “You’re more goth Disney.” His intention was kind. I declined the label. “No, I’m a Disney adult,” I clarified. “I love Disney as an adult. It’s straightforward.”

Many find it perplexing, and I’ve often defended my stance. This subject arose again in a discussion with a colleague. Shane Croucher penned a Newsweek op-ed titled “Disney Adults, Take Off the Mickey Ears, Go Home and Grow Up,” sparking online outrage. “If you’re child-free and at Disney World, reconsider yourself,” Croucher wrote. “Feel that shame. I bet you use ‘adulting.’ Discard the Mickey ears, go home, and grow up.” Strong words, yet easily remedied with a ride on Space Mountain.

On the Instagram post about Shane’s piece, I commented, “Can’t steal my joy. At Disney, I’m too blessed eating churros to be stressed.” The replies criticized Shane’s harsh tone. Though my response was light-hearted, it held a genuine belief: Shane’s perspective misses the mark. Being a Disney adult doesn’t indicate immaturity. For many, it signifies adulthood enabling certain choices.

Shane asserts that parks should be reserved for families with kids, insinuating issues with child-free adults frequenting them. I get the sentiment, yet it begs the question: How should adults ideally spend Saturdays? At bars or ball games? Adults in full sports attire aren’t subjected to the same scrutiny. All pastimes are valid if enjoyed, but personally, I prefer delicious food, thrilling rides, and observing joy around me.

Disney critics often overlook the shared joy of children’s experiences. A child running eagerly to Mickey or eating ice cream before it melts—these moments aren’t exclusive to parents. Joy is not confined to family ties. Annoying adults exist everywhere, with or without kids. Bad examples in fandoms don’t paint everyone negatively.

Reflecting on Shane’s critique led me to explore my Disney affinity. Each Disney adult has their reason. Mine began with my parents’ divorce. My mom’s few visits included a pivotal outing to see The Little Mermaid. After a cinema mishap, we watched it twice. What stayed with me was sitting beside her through both. This initiated a tradition. Years later, a family trip to Disney World after significant saving left an indelible mark. As I matured, this tradition evolved.

Meeting my partner, Disney became a core part of our bond. Our first movie together was Coco. Celebrations frequently occur at Disney, creating joyful memories. If embracing happiness this way is wrong, my contentment suggests otherwise.

As an annual passholder today, my Disney visits reflect a grown-up decision—to revisit a cherished place. Childhood trips were rare and saved for; now they’re my choice. This situation resonates with many, parents and child-free alike. We visit for memories worth preserving and creating new ones. If an adult embracing joy appears problematic, consider the issue isn’t with the Mickey ears.

Besides, Disney adults don’t judge parenting choices, such as child leashes. But reconsider why we use those leashes.