INSIDE OUT 2: A Wake-Up Call For Kashmiri Parents

(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer)
Inside Out 2 official poster

By Hirra Sultan

I didn't plan to get emotional over a Pixar sequel. I thought I'd just watch Inside Out 2 for fun, maybe smile at the animation, maybe forget about it the next day.

But here I am, days later, still thinking about a scene where Joy, the old ringleader of Riley's emotions, learns something important: being good doesn't mean always being happy. And being human means you can feel a lot of things at once.

Many adults skip animated films thinking they're just noise for children: goofy characters, bright colours, and predictable endings.

But Inside Out 2 surprised me. It starts in a familiar place.

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Riley, now a teenager, has four core emotions living in her mind. Joy leads the charge, curating memories, pushing aside anything that doesn't feel warm or safe. Sadness? Shoved away. Envy? Buried. Discomfort? Erased. There's a clear message early on: only positivity is allowed here.

Then puberty hits. And with it comes Anxiety – wired, twitchy, always on edge. The moment she enters, everything shifts.

She takes over like she owns the place. Suddenly, Riley is spiraling, planning every worst-case scenario before anything even happens. Her thoughts race. She can't sleep. She snaps at her friends. And underneath it all, there's a storm of emotions no one is willing to sit with.

That hit close to home. How often do we look at someone who's upset and say,“That's who they really are”?

We dismiss kindness and softness as fake. But why can't someone be angry and still love us? Why can't someone feel afraid and still show up? Why do we expect calmness, politeness, perfection, all the time?

The film doesn't preach. It shows. It shows how kids, especially girls, learn early to hide what's uncomfortable. How families sometimes encourage joy so much, other feelings begin to feel like flaws. A child learns to be good, not whole. Riley, like so many real kids, wants to belong so badly she starts trimming parts of herself to fit.

Anxiety in the film isn't just a villain. It's a mirror. It shows how fear of failure, of not being enough, takes over. How it talks loud and fast. How it silences other voices in your head. When Riley spirals, it's painful to watch, but painfully familiar, too.

Pixar doesn't sugarcoat the impact. At one point, Riley stops hearing her own voice. Her inner self is buried under noise, under pressure, under expectations. It's the kind of moment that makes you wonder: how many kids, especially in high-pressure homes, feel that way every day? How many grownups still do?

Think about what we tell boys when they cry:“Don't be weak.” Think about what we tell girls when they speak up:“That's not ladylike.” Think about the damage in those casual lines. The boy learns silence, not strength. The girl learns obedience, not confidence. And the child learns that love is conditional.

Inside Out 2 doesn't offer neat answers. It can't. But it does something rare: it starts a real conversation. About parenting. About trauma. About how we pass our wounds down, without meaning to. It reminds us that emotions aren't the problem, shame is.

Of course, the movie ends on a high note. Riley finds balance. Her emotions learn to coexist. It's neat, hopeful. Maybe too quick, too clean. Real healing takes longer. Sometimes it doesn't happen at all. But even in this ideal world, the message is clear: wholeness is better than perfection.

Maybe it starts with us. Maybe the best thing we can do is stop pretending we're okay when we're not. Maybe we can listen more, scold less. Let our kids cry. Let them rage. Let them be.

And maybe, just maybe, the next generation won't have to watch a cartoon to feel understood.

• The author is a Srinagar-based techie and storyteller.

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