Confession time: I had never seen the original Zootopia. I went into the sequel knowing exactly two things—Fortune was voicing a character, and hometown loyalty demanded I show up. I adore her as a human, her comedy is killer, and honestly, seeing Zootopia 2 was a perfect excuse to say, “Yep, we’re from the same city,” while buying overpriced popcorn.

My family went because Belmont’s own Fortune Feimster voices the magnificent Nibbles Mablestick. I was fully prepared for a cute, entertaining kids’ movie. What I was not prepared for was to be emotionally leveled, quietly saddened, and then completely thrilled by a storyline that hit harder than a therapy session on intergenerational trauma.

Who knew an animated weasel could be so profound?

Southern Charm and Historical Harm

The timing of this movie couldn’t have been more ironic. Our Thanksgiving trip to North Myrtle Beach had already turned into an unexpected masterclass in American history and reflection. We watched Wicked, visited the Historic Myrtle Beach Colored School Museum and Education Center, and wandered through the stunning Brookgreen Gardens.

Now imagine this: walking through a property where, in 1853, the owner was the largest slaveholder in the United States—and then immediately trying to enjoy a zoo. That level of cognitive dissonance is… a lot.

And because the universe has a sense of humor, the “Meet the Animals” program that day featured snakes. Yes. Snakes. At the Campbell Center Program Shed. Clearly, I was being spiritually and emotionally prepped for the Reptile District.

Nibbles: The Unexpected Life Coach

As a licensed professional counselor, I firmly believe in Officer Judy Hopps’ philosophy: “The world will never be a better place if no one is brave enough to do the right thing.”

Preach, Judy.

But let’s talk about the real stars.

First, Gary the pit viper. A guy whose brain is wired for image fusion, allowing him to see what others literally cannot. That’s not just a cool superpower—that’s a metaphor for survival while being marginalized. When others tried to erase his great-grandmother’s journal, Gary’s dual vision simply said, “Nope. The truth is right here.”

And then there’s Nibbles Mablestick—our girl. She delivers one of the most basic but powerful therapeutic truths: interaction builds understanding. When you stop judging an entire group based on rumors or dusty history books and actually engage with them, things change.

Also, I nearly spit out my popcorn when she hit Nick with a perfectly timed, “Thanks for the overshare.” That is exactly the kind of direct communication I encourage in sessions. Nick is learning. Slowly. Bless him.

The Reptile District: Why I Needed a Session After the Movie

Here’s where the counselor hat really came on.

The intentional lying, hiding, and scapegoating of the Reptile District was a gut punch. Watching a children’s movie mirror our country’s long history of erasing truth and marginalizing entire communities was sobering.

This isn’t ancient history. This is still happening. Too often, accountability is avoided, truths are buried, and harm is minimized—or worse, dismissed with indifference.

Zootopia 2 reminded me that confronting bias—both personal and systemic—is not cute or funny work. It’s necessary work.

And thank goodness we have voices like Fortune Feimster’s bringing humor, humanity, and heart to characters like Nibbles Mablestick. Because maybe—just maybe—if we stop oversharing, start listening, and choose interaction over assumption, we really can build a better city.

Even if the lesson comes from a weasel.