Betwixt my body image issues and the pervasive debates about
feminism online, I realize how and why it's so difficult to portray women in
fiction. Game of Thrones and Frozen are two of the works most highly
praised for portraying women as complex characters in their own right as
opposed to being a love interest (or worse, a one-dimensional villain) for a
hero. Frozen and Game of Thrones also came out only a few years ago. This shows
that, despite the successes of feminism in making the world a better place for
women, the mass media still perpetuate stereotypes about women, even if they
try to make a “strong and independent heroine.”
What Frozen and Game of Thrones got right about female
characters is that, regardless of alignment, they have multifaceted personalities.
They have more to offer than to be something pretty for a male hero to gain as
a prize in the end. Being a complex female character doesn’t always require her
to forgo traditional feminine traits either. This is somehow revolutionary in
the realm of fiction, especially in mainstream pop culture. It’s just sad that this
also shows what feminism tends to get wrong about femininity.
In the past year,
feminism has garnered significant backlash from a considerable faction of women
in the Internet. The hashtag #womenagainstfeminism gained popularity in social
media with quite a bit of help from BuzzFeed. This was in retaliation against
misandristic attitudes from women who identify as feminists. Most active in
Thought Catalog, BuzzFeed and Tumblr pages, these misandrists promote negative
stereotypes about men, such as their penchant for abuse, rape, and violence in
general. To them, men are incapable of affection and gentleness; and any woman
who enters a relationship with one is either a traitor to feminism or doomed to
an unhappy life of betrayal and domestic abuse.
Misandry means “hatred against men,” and there are many
feminists who perpetuate this destructive attitude as an aid to promote women’s
rights. But many women, especially those who are happy to be in conventional
family life, vehemently disagree, with good reasons. They declare, “If
advocating my right for respect for my life choices and equal treatment in
business and politics means that I have to make jokes about violence against
men; make hateful comments about their sex; and assume superiority over men, I
don’t want to be a feminist.”
The same problems crop up in various degrees of subtlety in
fiction. Emilie Autumn’s Fight Like aGirl album, based on her book The
Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls, has turned a tragic tale of abuse in
the mental health institution into an allegory of radical feminism, to the
disgust of female fans that are happy with their men. In a twist of irony, the Underworld series, Sucker Punch and, at a lesser extent, Taylor Swift’s music video
for “Bad Blood” adopt the “girls with guns” trope as women empowerment despite
the fact when it began as, essentially, action porn for men. If feminism
demands respect for women, adopting girls with guns as women empowerment undermines
this goal, as objectification of women is a major element in the genre.
There is also the faction of fictionists who take a
different route. Apparently inspired by Xena:
Warrior Princess, there are action heroines like Selene from Underworld and Katniss from The Hunger Games, who challenge the
damsels-in-distress stereotype by wielding weapons and holding their own
against powerful villains. Both heroines are not only fierce fighters; they are
stoic and sarcastic. Besides their physical strength, their behaviors also defy
the notion of the emotional woman.
I have a serious problem with that. While I understand that
it’s clearly a reaction to the stereotype of a woman character manipulating
others with her tears and acting upon her feelings, depicting an emotionless
woman seems extreme. Not every woman wears her heart in her sleeve, but it
doesn’t mean that a reserved action heroine ought to be perpetually stern or
even borderline sociopathic. At least Selene gradually grows out of it when she
experiences the joy of love and the fear and grief of losing Michael in the
sequels.
Clearly written as a response to Bella Swan of the Twilight books, Katniss Everdeen is her
exact opposite. Whereas Bella is gorgeous but doesn’t see herself that way,
Katniss is severely malnourished and reasonably unattractive. Making her look
acceptable for TV takes considerable effort from her stylists. Whereas Bella
Swan is transparent with her feelings, Katniss is largely emotionless. Her
first person narrative sounds like she is more of an (albeit spiteful) observer
than a terrified teenager (unless she actually cries or becomes scared, which
happens only a few times in the whole series). I commend Jennifer Lawrence for
adding a layer of emotion to the character in the adaptation (even though she doesn’t look the part at
all). But I digress. Being excessively showy of emotion is merely a symptom of
a usually bigger problem with a female character. But taking away emotion to
enforce physical as well as mental strength for an action heroine seems rather
shallow for me. It’s shallow because it doesn’t necessarily add to her
character; it only reduces her femininity.
However, few people realize that about heroines like
Katniss. Katniss has become the epitome of the “strong and independent female
character” while female characters that still practice traditional gender roles
are supposedly anti-feminist. Radical feminists criticize Molly Weasley for
being a housewife to a man who works for the Ministry of Magic. They criticize Bella
Swan for being “passive”; dependent to her men; and adopting traditional gender
roles like keeping house and cooking for her father (more on this in an
upcoming blog).
The problem with feminism is that it focuses more on
combatting patriarchal oppression than celebrating femininity. It reinforces
the idea that “women can be as good as men in everything,” so we must abandon
traditional female roles and strive to gain success alongside men in business
and politics, science and medicine, architecture and engineering, art and music
and literature, and also in aviation and the armed forces. there is nothing wrong with being a doting
mother or a housewife as long as the stay-at-home mom is happy with it. Like
all stay-at-home moms, Molly Weasley is constantly busy keeping house and
raising children, including rambunctious twins Fred and George. In other words,
it’s very hard work that must be appreciated and honored, especially by
feminists.
Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with action
heroines. Wonder Woman is a powerful super-heroine whose definitive trait is
her compassion. But that doesn’t negate the fact that she will rightfully
punish evildoers.
Beatrice “Tris” Prior from the Divergent series is a great action heroine not just because she can
kick ass but also because she’s worked extremely hard to be able to do so.
She’s special but she’s not the only one. The interesting thing about Tris is
that, like Katniss, she is not particularly beautiful but that’s not relevant
to the character. (This is one of the good things about Katniss as well.)
A heroine doesn’t need to be eye candy to be taken
seriously, after all. Inversely, a heroine can still be beautiful but, like
Wonder Woman, that’s not her most important trait.
Tris has fierceness about her, but also gentleness. Unlike
with Selene or Katniss, the two traits do not negate each other. Tris never had
to “discover the hidden softness under her hard core” like Selene or Katniss had
to do because even though compassion doesn’t come naturally for Tris, she is
considerate, friendly, and polite. The two traits are within her all along, as
it is for all women.
Therefore, I would like everyone to learn that women are
complex and ought to be written that way in fiction. We are indeed strong, but
that can mean more than physical strength and combat skill. Wearing dresses and
makeup, taking upon domestic tasks, or settling down does not make a woman less
“strong and independent.” An ideal heroine is someone who can be any woman. She
may or may not be beautiful; she may or may not care for her appearance. She
may or may not be a combatant. She may or may not be a good person, even. But
she is a whole person, nonetheless. The ideal heroine is one who feels for the
other characters and what happens to them and her. She has dreams and desires.
She has flaws and nuances. Not everyone might like her, and that’s okay. But she
won’t take kindly to being insult or discrimination.
