When I was growing up, out of all the Disney princesses, I wanted to be Meg.
Meg was strong, Meg was sassy - Meg didn't need a hero. She played them like bongos, making her own tune out of their libidos. She had long red hair and she didn't hesitate to stare Hades in the face when he was flaming mad or blow out the lantern on Pegasus' head.
To me, at five years old, searching desperately for someone to look up to, Meg was the kindergarten equivalent of a BAMF.
"I'm a damsel. I'm in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day."
And then I grew up.
I watched movie after movie where the girl just wanted to get the guy - or her interchangeable happily-ever-after. I read books where women were treated like male prizes, or cogs in their plans, or worse - the sex joke for the audience's comic relief - or interchangeable titillation.
And that was when the women were there at all.
But that's movies, you can say. But that's books, you can say. But that's comics, video games, television, blah, blah, bliddy, blah.
That's real life.
I grew up, and I heard my friends say, "You can't get fat, else boys won't like you." I heard my friends say, "I think it's a compliment when boys fight over me." I heard my friends say, "Everything's going to change now that I'm dating So-and-So." I heard my friends say, "He broke up with me - my life is over."
And the boys - the men - y'all think this is silly. That's just women. This is the natural order, the status quo.
You've heard enough feminist rants to know better.
So you write a female character - you don't want her to be like those other women. She cannot be silly. She cannot chase a guy for her happily-ever-after. She's got to be woman PLUS.
Give her some strength. Give her some sass. This woman doesn't need a hero - she can be her own. How? Well, she's got long red hair, and a voice that stinks of sex - she can play men like bongos and stare down her villains even when they're flaming mad.
That makes her a role model.... right?
Meg sold her soul for a guy who screwed her over. Meg's new employer used her, made her a cog in the machinery of his master plan. Meg could play men's libidos like bongos - if the bongos were sentient, and sometimes wouldn't take no for an answer. Meg ultimately sacrificed her life for the immortality of a man. And when he brought her back, it was not about her. It was about the strength of his heart, and not about the strong, sassy woman on his arm.
Hercules got immortality for being willing to sacrifice his life for Meg's. What did Meg get when she died for him?
Is she remembered in the stars?
When I was growing up, I wanted to be Meg.
And then I grew up. I realized that the last thing I ever want to be is Meg - just another misconception of what a woman can be.
Fuck heroes. Fuck being the sex joke, and the titillation. Fuck being a prize, or a cog of mindless machinery. Fuck selling my soul for someone else - self-sacrifice is not a wondrous virtue. Fuck being someone else's damsel in distress.
I want my own goddamned story, and the ending of it sure as hell isn't some guy. There is no need to play men like bongos when you're willing to take a sword and run them through.
Instead, there is a woman. She's strong and sassy, sure. She may or may not be attractive. Sometimes she gets in trouble, and frequently she gets herself out. This does not diminish the times when she must ask for help. She's got her own machinations to put in play, and sometimes she manipulates men using their dicks like joysticks. But other times, she treats them like just one more monster standing in her way that must be slain. She puts herself first, because how can she help others, if she cannot help herself? She may or may not have romantic entanglements, and those entanglements may or may not last.Those people have their own stories - they will not hijack hers. This woman does not care what others may or may not think about her. It doesn't matter if she's fat, or if boys are silly enough to fight over her, because she doesn't want such immature douchebags anyways. She does not expect her life to change depending on the person she dates, because it doesn't affect much more than whom she goes home with at the end of the day.
But no matter what else, at the end of my story, there's just me. The stars hold my image and immortalize my adventures.
And, really, there is no such woman as the one to which Meg is meant to be the antithesis. There's no such woman as Meg, either. We are told again and again and again that both these characters exist. We are told that they are a reflection of who women are and of who women are meant to be. We are told lies about our reality, and we do our best to reshape it in the image of those falsehoods.
I grew up. I do not want to be Meg.
I want to be myself.
