Visiting a Disney theme park has always carried with it a sense of privilege. Even back in 1955 when Disneyland first opened its gates, the very act of setting aside a full day and hard-earned money to explore a world of imagination signaled that you had both the time and financial means to do so. It wasn’t cheap, but it was a reachable dream, a chance to step into the stories you loved, if only for a little while.
But somewhere along the way, for many guests, the magic of Disney became less about shared experiences and more about social currency. It wasn’t just about riding Pirates of the Caribbean with your kids or watching the fireworks light up the sky with your partner – it became about showing the world that you could afford it. As social media exploded over the past decade, this phenomenon only grew. Now, it’s not just your closest friends who see your Disney trip; it’s your high school classmates, your old coworkers, and that one friend of your cousin you haven’t spoken to in years. The ripple effect of sharing every Dole Whip and Mickey-shaped pretzel reaches far beyond your inner circle, amplifying the idea that going to Disney is something to be flaunted.
But it shouldn’t be this way.
Walt Disney’s brother, Roy, was undoubtedly a sharp businessman who understood the importance of turning a profit. But Walt’s vision was different. He dreamed of a place where guests could experience wonder, and to make the money needed to fund his next big adventure. His belief was that Disneyland wasn’t just for the elite; it was for everyone. Walt famously said, “Disneyland is a work of love. We didn’t go into Disneyland just with the idea of making money.” It was built on the belief that magic should be just that, not a badge of status.
So I don’t say this to be harsh, but if you don’t love Disney, don’t come. Don’t make the trip because you feel societal pressure to post a castle selfie or flaunt a set of Minnie ears on Instagram. Come because you want to experience the joy of being immersed in fantasy with friends and family. Come because you want your biggest worry of the day to be which Lightning Lane to book next, not how many likes your vacation photos will get. The magic was meant to be felt, not filtered.
I know many families who visit Disney for their “once in a lifetime” trip, not out of genuine excitement, but because it feels obligatory, like a box to check off in the grand social media showcase. That’s a tragedy. When I hear these stories, I genuinely hope that Disney finds a way to convert them, not just into fans of the park, but into believers in the magic that happens when you set aside status and simply enjoy the moment. I hope they walk away not with bragging rights, but with real memories: sticky hands from melted Mickey bars, laughter echoing from Space Mountain, sleepy kids in their arms as fireworks burst overhead.
But I’m not above this either. I’ve been guilty of caring too much about social media when I’m in the parks. I’ve spent too much time angling for the perfect shot or checking notifications instead of being present. And while the likes and attention feel nice for a moment, in retrospect, I regret the time I spent looking at my phone instead of at my family. My kids will only be little for so long, and while I want to capture the memories, I sometimes wonder why I feel the need to broadcast them. It shouldn’t be about that. It should be about the incredible family I have right in front of me.
That’s what Disney is supposed to be about. Not status. But memories that outlast the moment.
