If the words, “You just know a bunch of guys made this,” cross my lips, then you will usually find our Xbox controller in my hands. On the screen will reside my character, there stands my female heroine, the poor girl. If she lived in this world most people would stereotype and sneer that she is the butch side of a lesbian couple. If it is not the roid raging body builder dressed in ugly armor, then it is the overly feminine, curvy yet skinny, and scantily clad heroine to save the day. It always amazes me how she can, with all of the other soldiers and assassins dressed head to toe in armor, it cannot be practical to enter a battle with so much skin showing.
This is even if the game lets you choose a female player to control. Oh, and the other problem, could I get some hunkier guys in Fable, please? I either flirt with the ladies or remain celibate. For when I get a little bored with the main plot and go off to buy houses and have some side story fun I never want to marry a dude, they are all so common looking and usually shorter than me. Gosh.
Hehe. First world problems. Those opening paragraphs, show a bit of my attitude. The following are deeper thoughts on what it really means to be a female hero, and most importantly why I believe some of us are called to be one. These are a few of the reasons why I looked up Bible verses the other day and wrote my previous post, and why I will continue to write more.
I hate to sound like a feminist broken record, but ladies, it is a man’s world. It always has been and who knows if it always will be. In one of my favorite series there are two sisters set in a medieval like world, but one filled with giants, direwolves, Others, red priestesses, and other such magnificent and magical creatures. The girl world of this story is filled with frills and dresses. There are the hopes of a happy marriage, all arranged by father of course. There is curtsying and courtesy, silence and stitching. My favorite of the two girls, Arya, runs around with more mud on her face than makeup. The bane of her existence is the needle work that is often forced into her hands. Arya manages to convince her Father to arrange “dancing lessons” for her, where she secretly learns the art of sword play with her custom forged sword, Needle.
My half finished cross stitch of Minnie Mouse was probably thrown away when my parents moved two years ago, but it still stands tribute to the fact that I too soon tired of the feminine arts. If you are diligent enough to look through my four volume creative memories photo album you can find pictures of me with a wooden sword from my summer theater class that concentrated on stage fighting. Like Arya, I enjoyed that style of “needle work” more exciting.
In our world there is a little more wiggle room than either being cast as the femme fatale or the caricature, ugly stereotype, of the “guy” side of a lesbian relationship. There is some gray area between being super girly or the ultimate tomboy. However, I feel that there are too few voices telling us ladies that we too can pick up a sword instead of rolling pin. There are too few voices telling girls that the waaayy too much cleavage showing shirt and the super, uber, duper, low riding jeans are just not a practical outfit for saving the world. Too many woman never know true love and equality. Too many babies are subject to gendercide just because they are female. Too many misses are sold for their bodies. Too many Miley Cyrus’es trying to act like an adult, but in the wrong way.
Girls. Gals. Ladies. Misses. Ma’ams. Women. Our world needs saving. Our gender needs saving. There are many traps out there stalling our victories and many enemies waiting to wound our confidence. It is time to realize that we have these trials because we are the heroine of the story. The “extra’s” of the story, the movie, or the video game are not going to suffer much. There will be very little that disturbs their lives. But the main character, she is going to be attacked. If you do not believe that you are under attack, look around. Maybe it is not you in particular, but maybe the lady down the street with the bruises, or the girl on the corner who is shaking, maybe the daughter in your own house, or the little girl half way across the world, forced into marriage at age eight.
We are a target, not because we are weak, but because we are capable of being Wonder Woman. All I know is when I go out to save the world I am going to wear more than that bustiere, high wasted underwear, bracelets, and a tiara.