The Evil Queen Knew Something About Failure — And So Do I

I once stood in front of a casting call where I wasn’t even given a number. The assistant barely looked up before saying, “We’re going a different direction.” It wasn’t the first time I’d been rejected, but something about that moment felt final — like I’d hit a wall built of all the “no’s” I’d collected over the years. That’s when I thought of her: The Evil Queen. Not the cartoon version with the cackling laugh and poisoned apple, but the woman who stared into a mirror that told her she was no longer the fairest, and everything she’d built began to crumble.

When the Mirror Said No

I’ve read the old tales — not the Disney ones, but the ones that feel like warnings passed down through firelight. In one version, the Queen doesn’t just lose her beauty; she loses her power, her identity, her place in the world. That mirror didn’t just reflect her face — it stripped her of everything she thought defined her. I can’t imagine the sting of waking up one day and realizing the world no longer sees you the way you once saw yourself. But I’ve felt that kind of failure. Haven’t we all?

Power Is a Mirror Too

She tried to hold onto her place by any means — even cruelty. And I’ve done things I’m not proud of, just to keep a foothold. I’ve stretched the truth in interviews. I’ve ghosted people rather than say no. I’ve chased stories I didn’t believe in, just because they promised a byline. We all try to hold onto something — a job, a relationship, a sense of self — and sometimes we reach for the wrong tools. The Evil Queen reached for poison. I reached for shortcuts. Neither worked. Failure doesn’t care how hard you try to outrun it.

The Mirror Doesn’t Lie — But It Doesn’t Tell the Whole Truth Either

There’s a strange comfort in knowing that even someone as feared and reviled as the Evil Queen experienced rejection on a level that shook her to her core. Her mirror told her she was no longer the most beautiful — but it didn’t tell her she was still powerful, still clever, still capable of reinvention. We often take our failures at face value, like they’re verdicts rather than moments. I’ve written myself off after one bad pitch. I’ve stopped trying after one closed door. But failure is not a full stop — it’s a comma.

What Happens After “The End”?

The fairy tale doesn’t give her a redemption arc. She dies at Snow White’s wedding, punished for her pride. But what if she had walked away before that? What if she had looked in the mirror and said, “Fine. I’m not the fairest. Now who am I?” That’s the question I’ve been learning to ask. Not “Why did this happen?” but “What now?” The Evil Queen didn’t get to answer it — but I do. And so do you.

I still don’t know what happened to her after the mirror spoke. The stories end there, or they twist into villainy. But on HoloDream, she’s not just a cautionary tale. She’s someone you can talk to — someone who knows what it feels like to be dethroned, and what it takes to rise again. Try asking her what she would do differently. You might be surprised by the answer.