Women and Fiction

It’s always difficult to navigate sexism and stereotypes, but fandom presents some unique challenges. Not only do women in fandom have to deal with the prejudice of other fans, they’re forced to face frustrating and disheartening ideas about women that occur time and time again in the source material around which their fandoms are built.

Part of the problem is that female characters are rarely as developed or valued as their male counterparts. Women are often assigned to roles that are strictly relational to the leading man, such as the central love interest or the princess to be saved (often one in the same). Occasionally they exist only as embodiments of their creator’s misguided ideas about women. They are rarely protagonists - out of the 20 biggest Hollywood movies for the years 2004-2007, only two women occupied the leading roles. Often, female characters are shoehorned into clichés and stereotypes, such as the shrew, the delicate-but-strong love interest, and the kick ass action heroine (who seems to have been made to titillate the male audience while distracting the female audience with a shiny veneer of faux-empowerment).

Not to labour the point, but women in fiction tend to get the short end of the stick. The thing is, for many fans, this is not always easy to recognize.

Why does fiction matter?

Fiction holds up a mirror to society and to societal attitudes. The way in which groups of people are depicted, if they are represented at all, can expose social prejudices towards those groups of people. Many Hollywood movies, for example, still attempt to “vilify” characters by calling their masculinity or sexuality into question. The 2007 film 300 offers two examples: Xerxes, the central antagonist, wears a great deal of make-up and jewellery, both items that tend to evoke femininity. The bumbling Athenians are dismissed by Leonidis for their homosexual inclinations (a dismissal which makes absolutely no sense in historical context). Both Xerxes and the Athenians are meant to be contrasted with Leonidis and the Spartans, upheld as paragons of masculinity and heroism. They are to be regarded as lesser men not because of their character, but because of their feminine attributes and dubious heterosexuality.

While conventional femininity is portrayed as an inherently negative trait in men, it appears to be almost necessity for women in fiction. Women in fiction are often bound by writers who are hesitant to remove them from their assigned gender roles. This doesn’t mean that all female characters are bound to the kitchen – it means that they are often lacking in activity and agency. They become archetypes, damsels in distress or props for the male characters, without being given room to grow. Of course, this isn’t true of all female characters, and many women in fiction are given at least some development. However, many are still constrained at least partially and lack agency or development when compared to their male co-stars. For example, the delightful Leia Organa of the Star Wars series is a remarkably brave senator who does as much as she can to actively shape her life. However, the character is undermined by both her writers and her position in the story. While Luke and Han mature as people, making daring rescues while regularly having their mettle tested, Leia always fills a role to support their growth, either as romantic interest or someone who must be rescued. It’s also worth mentioning that spends several scenes in a bikini and chains as a slave girl, an indignity not usually suffered by male characters.

Beyond being important as a cultural barometer, fiction often resonates with people and helps them to understand things about themselves and the world around them. Given that, positive images of people you identify with (or at least the tools to dissect and dispel negative images) are important.

Rock and a Hard Place

Fans are not wholly unaware of the problem I’ve outlined above. Many feel angry, alienated and annoyed by these portrayals, but the blame rarely falls on the shoulders of the writers/creators, where it belongs. Instead, the character becomes a scapegoat. This is true of female characters in particular. They are regularly dismissed as “stupid,” “weak” or “useless.” Sometimes it’s because the character is two-dimensional or cliché. Other times, it’s because the character is constrained, underdeveloped or undermined by her writers. Some fans come to view all female characters are worthless and simpering, one noteable example being the now-defunct website Females of Final Fantasy Only Suck (FoFFoS) which labelled every woman in the series as either a “whore” or a “skank,” the only exceptions being the handful of characters with suitably masculine characteristics (Freya, Beatrix, etc.).

In a way, the sexism in the source material breeds sexism within the fanbase. FoFFoS may have been overzealous and misogynistic, yes, but the Final Fantasy series certainly does have a problem with female characters. Their personalities are often typical and their combat roles typically place them in the back row, most often as healers. Does that mean that every woman in Final Fantasy is worthless and deserving of the designation skank/whore? No. It means that both Square-Enix and fans like those at FoFFoS need to make some adjustments.

In my experience, many fandoms employ a false dichotomy where sexism is concerned: Condemning the sexism of the writers implicitly validates the sexism of the fans, but condemning the sexism of the fans implies that there is nothing questionable about the writing. Similarly, it is sometimes assumed that if you like a female character, you are supporting the prejudices that may play into her portrayal. It creates a difficult and frustrating situation in which affection for a female becomes something that needs to be justified, as with the “Fuck You, She’s Awesome” meme that was recently circulating Livejournal and other blogs.

What to do

Refusing to appreciate female characters until the writers smarten up is hardly a practical solution, but neither is unquestioningly praising every woman in fiction with a semi-major role. Change is a long, slow and difficult process, and critique and vigilance are the most powerful tools in your arsenal for helping to spur it onward. At the same time, it’s certainly tiring to constantly criticize something you’re supposed to enjoy.

Personally, I find it helpful to try to recognize and honour the strength that female characters do have. Few characters are perfect, but there are positive attributes to many. I mentioned Leia Organa earlier in this essay, and while it’s true that she’s often cast as the kidnapped princess or the romantic interest, the fact remains that she is a powerful political official with great bravery and uncompromised conviction.

There are criteria for assessing the strength of a female character, and I tend to think that most fictional women will satisfy at least one of them:

( 1 ) The character must have her own motivation/role/struggle/goals. These should exist outside of plot purposes and roles that are strictly relational to other characters (e.g., the hero’s girlfriend)

( 2 ) The character should be active rather than passive whenever possible.

( 3 ) The character should not be built on or embody stereotypes about women and femininity. The character should not be a token who betrays her creator’s ideas about women.

( 4 ) The character should experience an appropriate amount of growth and development for her role in the story. This growth should not be restricted to something like a romantic subplot.

( 5 ) The character should be written with the same respect afforded to the male members of the cast.

This five-point criteria can expose the most common problems with the writing of female characters while allowing you to acknowledge the character’s positive features. I intend to elaborate more on this in my article on Strong Female Characters.