The Girls at the Office

Awesomely Sexist Pepsi Commercial From 1957

She Caught On Quick

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Alternate version: Suppose you're a woman who grabs life by the . . .

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Because Women Just Love Washing Dishes

Christmas List

Not What I Want for Christmas

Should I Have To?

Ad FAIL

Let's Hope He Doesn't

Praise for the Chef

Send Me Two

Where Does She Buy Those?

Attention Married Women

I Don't Think So

I can think of at least one better reason.

The Trouble with Twilight--Part VI:Twisted Appeal

So, what's really going on with Twilight? Why are so many girls and women such fanatical fans?

I've been thinking about this since I began the series, and although there are probably several reasons, I think the main one is that Meyer has somehow tapped into a mass sense of insecurity and provided a heady, addictive antidote.

There's no way that young girls and/or women can live up to the ideal they're shown every day, over and over, on billboards, in magazines or movies or TV shows--everywhere, all the time. They, like Bella, just can't match the perfection of the immortals. Of course, in our world the immortals are created by camera angles, air brushing, and starvation diets rather than by a vampire's bite, but the effect is the same--a major loss of self esteem. So, Meyer takes an average young woman and makes her the object of someone's obsession. And not a creepy someone. A handsome, god-like, powerful, rich, sexy young man who could have anyone but who wants only her.

This is heady stuff. Suddenly, a young woman who's always felt that she's not good enough can be vicariously powerful. She has a secret hope. If Bella can get a man like that, so can I. I, too, can be the center of someone's universe. I can be his special brand of heroin. Meyer is providing an illusion of female strength and, in a sick way, boosting weak self-esteem.

Jonathan mentioned in an earlier comment that he was interested in what Meyer has done with the tropes of the romance novel, and I am too. These tropes--which are probably ingrained in the collective female psyche--have actually grown and changed as opportunities for women have expanded. They've morphed from the basic helpless woman/rescue motif into various patterns of heroes being forced to accept a woman as she is and learning to respect her as an individual and allow her personal freedom before he can win her heart and form a partnership based on equality. Darcy and Elizabeth are an early example of this evolving trope. I'm not a big reader of bodice rippers today, but I know that Stephanie Laurens' historical romances are big on the independent woman/equality theme. Meyer does draw on the tropes of earlier romance novels, but it seems she takes all the female insecurities (ignoring the heroines' strengths) and pairs them with extreme versions of the heroes' characteristics. To use Jonathan's earlier list and expand on it, Edward has Darcy's good looks, pride, and money, Rochester's moodiness, Heathcliff's obsession, Jesus's ability to save, and the "Christian romance"-bodice-ripper heroes' super-human restraint (I didn't know there was such a genre as the Christian romance bodice ripper, but it's an interesting concept). This, of course, makes for a very unequal partnership. Yet, rather than being angry over Meyer's portrayal of women, fans seem to feed on the idea of a really weak woman being able to mesmerize the ultimate-alpha-macho man.

I know that Twilight fans will argue that Bella becomes a strong woman. And they're right, in the final novel she does. But they need to look a little closer. She doesn't become a strong woman because of personal growth or a reliance on her own abilities. It takes a man to make her that way, and she still has to look like a supermodel.

Meyer may have tapped into a great social malady, but the antidote she provides is just a placebo. It seems to address the symptoms, and you feel better for a little while, but the illness is still festering underneath it all.

Now I'm done with Twilight. In the words of Forrest Gump: That's all I have to say about that.

Anything to add?

The Trouble with Twilight--Part V: Weak Women

Feminist critic Joanna Russ argues that, in a patriarchal culture, everything is seen from the male point of view. Women have a place within a patriarchal culture, but it is a minor place; there is a women’s culture, but it is a sub-culture, and it does not represent all that is possible of human experience. This is why, she continues, almost all of western civilization’s masterplots feature heroes rather than heroines. Women appear in these stories, but usually in supporting roles—loving wife, old crone, dear sister, temptress, loose woman, evil witch, etc.—all stereotypes. Yet there is one masterplot in which women are allowed the role of heroine—The Love Story.

Why? Because, even though she’s the “star” of the story, she’s still in a weak position. She is the one lacking power, the one who must be rescued or saved or pursued. A hero uses his strength, talent, or wit to overcome obstacles and prove his worth (or lack of it)—in a myriad of ways, thus the many plots available for heroes. A heroine just needs to find a man. That’s why she only needs one plot, right?

The first female novelists struggled for acceptance as authors, and unlike male novelists such as Fielding, Sterne, and Smollett who could pen suggestive scenes and still be respected, women writers were often deemed immoral for even daring to put their names on their tamest literary creations. They were also pretty much limited to producing novels of manners in which young women learned their “proper” roles in society.

But even with these restrictions, thinking, intelligent women found ways to fight back, ways that were often subversive. They might have been limited to the love story plot, but they could show their heroines’ pain. They highlighted society’s double standards. They showed the desperation many females felt in the face of economic insecurity. They painted pictures of feminine despair at having talents society allowed them no place to exercise. They depicted women of dignity, who refused to prostitute themselves for financial security and held out for husbands who respected them and whom they could respect. And, finally, after hundreds of years, things changed. Women authors gained greater freedom. They could depict strong women with dignity and choices and varying life paths.

And along comes Stephenie Meyer, who seems to try, in the Twilight novels at least, to undo all the progress of the last two hundred years. This may be a vampire story, but it’s the Love Story plot. Bella simply has to have a man. She cannot exist without one. Edward (although he repeatedly derides her and talks to her as if she’s a child) completes her and is necessary for her very survival. And when he leaves, what happens? She latches on to Jacob (who basically treats her the same way Edward does, but not quite as badly). Like I said, she’s gotta have a man. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against love and marriage—but I’m for relationships built on both self- and mutual respect.

And what’s the deal with “genetic dead ends”? Traditionally, women’s worth in a patriarchal society is based on their childbearing capacity. Therefore youth is prized, and women decrease in value as they age because they lose this ability (see my ageism post). Young women who did not or could not bear children were deemed “surplus” women—essentially a burden on society. This is another view of women that female authors have fought against, and what do we find in the Twilight saga? Rosalie and Leah, two young women who feel worthless because they are unable to bear children— they are, using Leah’s term, “genetic dead ends”—and Bella, who’s willing to sacrifice her own life for her unborn child, against the wishes of Edward, Jacob, and Carlisle—all the men who care about her (and should care about the child). Again, I’m not discounting the value of children—or of self-sacrifice. I’m a mother, and my children are very important to me. I’m also willing to sacrifice for them, and so is my husband. And so are most mothers and fathers I know. What I’m saying here is that this is a very sexist presentation of parenting. A woman’s worth is not based on whether or not she can bear children, just as a man’s worth is not based on whether or not he can or has fathered children. And women are not the only ones willing to sacrifice for the welfare of their children.

Meyer seems to be trying to depict Bella as a strong heroine, but she goes about it in all the wrong ways. Bella rejects parental authority yet “parents” her own parents. She doesn’t care about clothes or what kind of car she drives. She doesn’t care about going to the prom. Bella is “above” all the typical teenage-girl things, and I guess Meyer thinks that this makes her seem mature and independent. Another weird thing that I guess is supposed to make Bella a feminist is that she’s ready for sex and for Edward to “transform” her, but she’s not ready to marry him at eighteen. It’s just too low-class-white trash—people will talk about her! But it’s hard to think of Bella as strong when she has no individual sense of self-esteem/identity and is constantly putting herself in positions that she knows will force Edward or Jacob to rescue her.

Many of the other females in these novels fit these same patterns. Renee is needy and flighty and must be shielded and taken care of. Leah is the stereotypically bitter scorned woman and is only grudgingly accepted in the pack. The celebrated third wife is “strong” only because she kills herself to save her men. The “imprinted” women have no choice but to belong to the male wolves that imprint on them for life—a relationship much like a knight and his fair lady. All in all, Meyer’s fictional world is pretty degrading for women.

So why are so many girls and women identifying with these books?

To be continued . . .

The Trouble with Twilight--Part III: Ageism

Not only is Bella too average-looking, she's also too old. Talk about horrors! An eighteenth birthday is an event a girl just wants to ignore. And she might as well be dead as twenty-five. I know, I know, it's just a story. Bella will age because she's human, but Edward (a vampire) and Jacob (a werewolf) won't. But Meyer's choices illustrate (and promote) an attitude of ageism that hits women hardest. Aging women and aging men are not perceived equally in our society. Gray hair on a man is distinguished; gray hair on a woman looks old (Why doesn't she dye her hair?). A man's wrinkles give him character; a woman's wrinkles make her look old (Why doesn't she get a facelift?). He's a good catch--a bachelor with a good job, a big house, a great car, plenty of money, etc.; she's a spinster or a "Cougar"--and either way often the butt of jokes. Sigh.

To be continued . . .

[Oh, I'm about 2/3 through Eclipse now.]