Scars and Shame– The Secrets of Female Characters
By Barbara O'Neal | May 27, 2015 |
Last month, I talked about the cornerstones of building a strong female protagonist. This month, we’re going to dig a little deeper.
In Wild by Cheryl Strayed, the main character is a young woman who is at the end of her rope. She’s lost her mother and she can’t find her footing in the world, and on a whim, she decides to go on a hike on the Pacific Coast Trail, 1000 miles.
In many ways, it’s a classic quest story. She’s called to do this crazy thing. She’s woefully unprepared. She suffers and finds mentors and friends. She struggles through, meets bad guys. And finally reaches her goal.
But the actual story is internal. This is a very important part of building a female journey. A male journey often takes place in the external world—in battles and tests against actual physical enemies. Women’s journeys are more often about the internal road to herself. [pullquote]A male journey often takes place in the external world—in battles and tests against actual physical enemies. Women’s journeys are more often about the internal road to herself.[/pullquote]
Let’s backtrack a little to talk about why. Men and women approach the world differently. It begins very early.
Girls are often more dominant than boys as toddlers and all the way up to middle school (that hell of us all). They are more socially adept and able to manipulate the world more adroitly, and that gives them the advantage until they’re about 12 or 13—basically puberty. At that age, even a very mighty girl often starts to feel less sure of herself and her place in the world.
By high school, boys are much more certain of their place in life than girls. They’re bigger, stronger, and they’ve internalized the message that it’s a man’s world. Even with affirmative action and Title Nine and all the things we are struggling to put in place, most boys are pretty certain of their superiority.
What happens at age 12? Girls grow breasts. They become fertile. This makes them both dangerous and vulnerable, and suddenly the messages they get from almost everyone in their world is about THAT. About being sexual or not sexual. About being careful around men (and god knows that’s a reality—they do have to be taught to be aware and careful). This goes back to slut shaming and the good girl/bad girl dichotomy and the measure of beauty I talked about last month.
At puberty, girls begin to be told that the main thing that matters about themselves is their physical desirability. They’re asked to put their beauty first, and they begin, with very serious consequences, to rate each other on the scale of beauty. So do the boys. I have a feeling this has only become more cutthroat over time, and will continue—mainly because women are becoming more powerful. That’s the pushback.
I’ve had people argue this, but my feeling is that every female on the planet knows what her physical attractiveness is, and how much it’s worth. Some women choose to make it a non-issue by either by-passing it or downplaying it, but there’s no getting around the harsh truth that it matters tremendously. A more beautiful woman will get more money for the same work, likely a more prestigious partner, and a million daily benefits that accrue over a lifetime.
It’s actually best to be passably attractive, frankly. Somewhere in the realm of cute or pretty or nice looking. Fewer conflicts from either men or women.
Both a very beautiful woman and a very ugly woman will have to overcome hurdles. It’s hard for a beautiful woman to be taken seriously, no matter how smart she is. But she is often considered to be nicer and more generous than other women. A very plain or ugly woman has the benefit of being left alone to nurture inner talents, but she will have to work much harder to be recognized and befriended, to find sexual partners, to create a family.
Men face this same thing, of course, but the relative beauty of men is not as much of a power card. And frankly, most men rate themselves higher on the scale of attractiveness than they objectively are, so they’re not as troubled by the dynamics.
You should know this about your protagonist. Do men find your character attractive? Is she beautiful? If so how does that make her life worse as well as better?
In The Fall, Gillian Anderson plays Stella and she does it with exquisite understanding of this character who seems to be very cool and British, but then has these strong sexual tastes. She dresses elegantly and she is a pretty woman, of course, but it’s the way she speaks, in a slightly husky, breathy voice that is always just this side of whispery. You want to lean in and listen to her. She commands the room with that quiet, sexy voice.
How does that help her? How does it hinder her? There should be a double-sided coin whatever you choose.
SHAME AND SCARS
In Wild, Cheryl’s antagonist is herself. She hates herself as she begins, hates the bad decisions she’s made, many of which have to do with sleeping around, sleeping with the wrong men. She is one hot mess as the story opens.
But she has to try to find some peace, see if she can go on, so she starts walking—and in the act of making decisions, some good, some bad, some pretty wretched, she learns what her strengths are. She learns to forgive herself. The last bit of the story is her asking, over and over, “What if all these things taught me something?
A quest story with a male protagonist ends with celebration and a much larger sense of victory. Hers is quiet. She is alone, but she’s done it, and she is much stronger than she knew.
And what she THEN does is a classically female action: she tells her story to other women, hoping to give them strength, too. Schmidt talks about this at length in 45 Master Characters: We bring the secrets and truths back to the community.
Cheryl Strayed is filled with shame as the story begins, and she also is scarred, a member of what Clarissa Pinkola Estes calls The Scar Clan. Scars and the shame are often connected.
Nearly every woman in the world has a secret shame she carries around. It’s heavy and terrible and can weigh her down more and more and more over time. Usually the shame centers around violating some cultural norm, like the good girl bad girl dichotomy in which a good woman only has sex with a man she loves, and never enjoys sex unless it is with that One True Lover, while the bad girl is led to ruin by her sexual appetites.
There is a lot of ground between those two extremes
But when she does stand true to herself, she can become mighty again, like that 3 year old self, like the 8 year old.
AUTHENTICITY
Which leads to the struggle any woman of strength faces to claim her real life. The fact remains that it is more difficult for a woman to discover and claim an authentic vision for herself than it is for a man, and in the struggle, you’ll find the true power of a character.
A man might face opposition in many ways, but a woman will have to face down society and the pressure to conform to an always shifting standard of behavior to create her own reality. Because we are very social beings, it can be enormously difficult to simply stand in our own truth, even when we learn what it is.
This struggle is very common. It pains me that so many of my students struggle to do an exercise I give them in my voice class. It comes from the very end of Eat Pray Love, when Elizabeth Gilbert has to go off on her own and make sense of her journey. She, too, is struggling with shame and how to love herself just as she is, and she finally comes to a point where she realizes that SHE is the one who takes care of herself. She makes a promise to herself right there:
“I love you. I will never leave you. I will always take care of you.”
I ask my students to write those words to themselves. You would be amazed how many of them simply cannot do it.
Remember when you are creating strong women that they’re not being mighty because they were born that way. They’re mighty and powerful in spite of everything. They have overcome. They are part of the scar clan.
Find the scars, find the shame, find out how your character overcame those things, and I promise you will have a powerful protagonist every time.
What are some other ways men and women protagonists are different? What kinds of journeys do the two sexes undertake?
Barbara O’Neal is the author of more than a dozen award-winning, bestselling novels, including the runaway bestseller, When We Believed in Mermaids, which has been published in more than 20 countries and spent many months on the Amazon Charts, as well as the Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and Washington Post bestseller lists. Barbara lives on the beach in rugged Oregon with her husband, a British endurance athlete who vows he’ll never lose his accent and their zoo of cats and dogs. You can find more information on her newsletter and where to find her on social media at barbaraoneal.com.
“A male journey often takes place in the external world—in battles and tests against actual physical enemies. Women’s journeys are more often about the internal road to herself.”
Wow. I am kinda speechless. It’s early, really early and I’ve been up all night. Perhaps I need to reread this post, perhaps I misinterpreting this post, but I don’t think you can categorize males and females this generically…
In fact, I don’t think you can categorize anything about story this generically. Story is told through the eye of the beholder, and be they male, or female, or beautiful or ugly, or human or not–story is a unique combination of the beholder’s interpretation of the world around them and what they feel inside… it is as individual as the beholder.
So… with my interpretation of this post, I respectfully disagree with many of the points here.
Bernadette, the beginning threw me, too. And there are details I disagree with, but I think overall it’s somewhat useful — I just happen to believe that a lot of the differences and generalizations here are caused by socialization, rather than by inherent differences. That’s okay, I can still keep these generalizations in mind as I write, and use them or not as the stories and characters call for.
It’s often said that there are three basic types of stories: Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, and Man vs. Self. Or, to update the language, Person vs. Person, Person vs. Nature, and Person vs. Self. And what you seem to have done is pigeon-holed women into Person vs. Self and men into Person vs. Person or Nature.
I don’t dispute that this is often true of modern, western stories, but you seem to be advocating it, and I’ve never been a fan of “everyone’s doing it, so you should to.” Personally, I’d love to see some more Man vs. Self and Woman vs. Person/Nature stories.
What I really object to, however, is your stereotypical portrayal of men. Apparently, we’re all super-confident winners starting in high school who never have to worry about our physical appearance, place in the world, or overcoming societal expectations. As if men who are scrawny, bald, short, and/or fat don’t suffer similarly to unattractive women when it comes to income, self-confidence, romance, and ridicule. I’m sure men with delicate, pretty features will be relieved to hear that they never get homophobic slurs hurled at them, regardless of their actual sexual orientation (not that such slurs are ever acceptable), and, as businessmen, they will be taken just as seriously as their rougher-featured peers.
Don’t even get me started on the spectrum of racial and cultural differences of the “male role” in the USA alone.
A more accurate difference I see between men and women (in modern America) is that a man is expected to be the super-confident winner, and anything else is weak and unacceptable. Which means men have to bottle up and hide anything that doesn’t look strong. With apologies to John Donne, society says that each man, emotionally, MUST be an island.
If we ask men, they’ll tell us they don’t want to be. They’ll tell us they want to know and be known by their friends and family. But they’ve been force-fed action heroes and the need for strength and confidence so much that they’re terrified of showing a single moment of weakness, even if it would help them overcome it.
Whereas women are “more skilled socially and emotionally,” which just means it’s more acceptable for women to be emotionally open with others, and get help with their emotional difficulties, which gives the appearance of skill.
This is part two of a two part blog. I might not have made that clear. And it is meant to be generic, since it discusses creating strong female protagonists.
Azuaron, of course men have as many differences as women, and are as wounded by life.
The point of talking about female protagonists is that the prevailing models all refer to creating male heroes.
You’ve really gotten me thinking about my female characters today, Barbara. I’m particularly struck by the shame and scars, and finding authenticity. I think that, in spite of my efforts to marginalize the power of physical attractiveness and sexuality norms in my world-building, I’ve subconsciously found my way to the struggle for authenticity for a few of my female characters. Knowing this can only help me to enhance their inner journeys. So thank you.
As far as the generalizations you make, of course I realize they are starting points, for the sake of this conversation. How would we have it without them? As Hegel says: “An idea is always a generalization, and generalization is a property of thinking. To generalize means to think.” Makes me wonder if it had been an essay about male characters, and a few generalizations about females was made for the sake of counterbalance and clarity, if it would’ve been so assiduously noted and dissected from the point.
Thanks again for a thought-provoking series, Barbara!
I’m going to stand up for you, Barbara. I think you and Victoria Lynn Schmidt do make a case for what Schmidt calls “The Feminine Journey.” We all recognize there are exceptions (as you do when using the word “often”), but it seems perfectly legit to me to understand the points you raise.
When I teach the feminine journey, I use the classic Bette Davis film Now, Voyager. It’s all about her journey to selfhood, overcoming the shame that’s been foisted on her by a domineering matriarch, etc. It’s a beautiful film.
I get a divided response when I do this. At an RWA conference, I got nods of approval, but also a strong contingent that said this sort of journey can apply to men, too. And that women can go on a traditionally male journey, so don’t call it a “feminine journey” or a “masculine journey.”
I get that. Times have certainly changed since the 1940s as far as men’s and women’s roles in society. But I do think there is value in what you’re describing here. I’ll be very interested in what others have to say in the comments.
Thanks for provoking thought.
Thanks, James. It is an interesting subject, isn’t it? How are we different? How are we the same? And as writers, how do we mine all those things for the best possible characters?
Your post was timely for me, Barbara. My work for today is a scene where my 16-year-old protagonist is going on her first date. She’s only going because she has an ulterior motive. She’s not really interested in the boy (she says). She’s also, up until now, not been terribly interested in how she looks or what she wears, because her whole life has been focused on her Gifts. She’s inherited certain abilities that set her apart from regular kids, and this is the first time she’s running headlong into the issues you lay our, above. And by the way, you lay them out beautifully. Those realities and categorizations are deep-seated. Like racism, we may not practice them ourselves, but the undercurrent is there. I think we’ve seen that in our country over the last eight years. While some things have certainly improved for women, and definitely become more confusing for men, the old paradigm is still spewing toxins into the groundwater. Just look at the number of women in congress and the Senate. Why else would we need Emily’s List??
Books about strong female and sensitive male protagonists can help to change the paradigm. As storytellers we have the power to turn up in someones living room at night and whisper new ideas in their ear. We can show teenage girls what it looks like to take an inner journey laced with acts of physical endurance that mirror those interior hurdles. We can do the same for men. Men are coming home from war and writing books about emotional trauma. They are paving the way for other men with their stories.
Because of your post this morning, my scene just took a powerful turn, so thank you!!
I’m glad it turned out to be timely for you, Susan.
Hi Barbara,
Your post today make me think of Brene Brown — both her books and her TED talks, which I’ve found immensely helpful in my journey as a woman and writer. Self-compassion is such a difficult concept. Taking care of ourselves is so often last on our list.
Thank you for making me think, and for sharing yourself in such a brave and important way.
Deb
I’m so glad you mentioned Brene’s work. I only recently came across it and it’s been excellent insight into the flaws that all good characters carry.
While reading, I kept thinking about my (almost teenage) daughter and what I’m teaching her about dealing with life and the internal battles that women wage daily. She is gorgeous and if she ever figures out that she is, she will be dangerous. Raising a strong daughter, creating- raising – a strong female character… I can see the similarities. As a writer and a mother I am living it.
The heroines journey, is something most of us can relate to. Even in novels where the women are tough as nails detectives, they still have those battles, they still have internal scars to overcome.
Lots of food for thought here. Thank you.
I’m siding with you, Barbara and with James Scott Bell. Thanks for daring to post something so controversial. Controversy is good, it makes us think and examine both ourselves and our characters. You have stated a very uncomfortable truth–there ARE differences in the male and female journey.
Your post has pushed me to dig deeper into my female protagonist to find the scars and shame. But I’ll also be more aware of the scars and shame hidden beneath the surface in my male characters, too. Thank you for that insight.
As the mother of a daughter who is at that middle school age, perhaps Barbara’s post resonates with me differently than it did for some of the readers who commented early.
I think Barbara made excellent points about the shift in perception that occurs at that stage in a girl’s life and how it can color a female protagonist’s outlook even when that protagonist is much older. Yes, she generalized, and yes, there are exceptions to the generalities for both sexes – she acknowledges this with the use of words like ‘often’ or ‘most’ and ‘might.’
There is truth in the generalities, though. Between hormones, body changes, and the obvious favoritism in favor of the boys in classes like math and science, middle school destroyed much of my early confidence. My daughter fares better because she has a passion she focuses on–she’s a serious ballet dancer–but even she has become much more focused on the importance of her appearance. It is not about boys (yet) but she has noticed that she is treated differently when she takes the time to dress nicely and put on makeup. Many of her peers were strong and confident in elementary school and now they don’t try as hard in school because it’s not cool to appear too smart. They embrace dreams dictated by their peers. And, unfortunately, their sense of self worth is often tied to how boys perceive them.
Boys have it tough, too, absolutely, but the pressures on them (in general) are different pressures. Different pressures (in general) lead to different outlooks. Different outlooks lead to different approaches to story. I believe this is the point Barbara makes.
Boys absolutely do have it rough in their own ways, too. I raised two boys and lived for 15 years with a pack of urchins camped in my living room and backyard, eating every scrap of food I brought into the house.
It does seem that having some purpose–athletic pursuits, a serious goal, something to distract from the ordinary day to day dramas–can help a girl navigate that period with less damage.
Hormones. Those darn hormones. Whether female or male, they strongly influence your life.
I thought Barbara’s post was spot-on. Mostly because I was reading it as a female and identifying with all she said. She makes a great point. We need to look beyond our femininity (how the world views us), heal ourselves from what the world has done to us and what we’ve done to ourselves, find our true selves, and love that self. Then we can share that wisdom with our readers.
Well I think its all the Scare in the female characters. Which also cause shame in them !
By the way, thanks for sharing your awesome reviews !
I also thought this was a fine, thoughtful piece. Especially “I’ve had people argue this, but my feeling is that every female on the planet knows what her physical attractiveness is, and how much it’s worth.”. So true, and also true for men, but not quite with the same gravity.
Barbara-
It’s gonna be a good day on WU. This post is guaranteed to stir comment.
My view is contrary to that of you and Jim. Male oriented fiction may be heavy on action and light on introspection, but that does not say that men’s stories cannot, nor should not, be anchored in discoveries of self.
Thus, the Maass dictum for today: A hero’s story that lacks personal meaning for the protagonist is a story that will mean little to readers.
From Thomas Hardy to Henry James to Nicholas Sparks, Richard Paul Evans and Charles Martin today, it’s clear to me that men in fiction grapple equally with identity, overcoming the past, and finding strength. They just grapple differently.
Even tough-guy noir involves questions of identity. One of Jim’s favorite novels is Mickey Spillane’s ONE LONELY NIGHT (1951), which is about as two-fisted and tommy-gun as they get. What grounds this novel and gives it emotional grip, though, is that Spillane’s series hero Mike Hammer is grappling with a barb that a judge shot at him: You’re a killer. Is he? By the end he finds out. (He is…for the right reasons.)
Your description of girls’ development in our culture is accurate and obviously resonating. What you’re saying, though, is that women see themselves as judged, repressed and victimized. Women bear scars. Your word. Their journey is toward healing and finding strength.
Men’s journeys are the reverse. They start with hubris and journey toward humility. What women call victimized, men call getting knocked down. Women speak of becoming empowered. Men learn power’s limits.
Both must change, albeit in opposite directions, but both are heading to the same place. Both seek to understand themselves, embrace themselves and become more authentic. (Again, your word.)
Are women’s journeys in fiction different than men’s? I say no, only in the particulars.
Humph. There you go. I am certain of myself. We’re really the same.
Question: You said, “Both [men and women] must change, albeit in opposite directions, but both are heading to the same place. Both seek to understand themselves, embrace themselves and become more authentic.”
I totally agree with this.
And then you point out, “Are women’s journeys in fiction different than men’s? I say no, only in the particulars.”
So, my question — or several questions, I guess — is that I’m curious how the journeys are the same with the particulars being different? If they’re coming from opposite directions, women towards strength and men towards humility, both in order to find an authentic self, how can the *journeys* actually be the same? Aren’t the particulars, which Barbara pointed out, what makes the woman’s journey — as presented here by Barbara — inherently different from the man’s?
Of course men have internal journeys and pain and scars. This is not a post about men. It’s about women and how they might be different from men.
Jenny & Barbara-
Just as God is in the details, you are right: a hero’s journey and a heroine’s journey are in the particulars.
Please excuse. My cheeky tone is all in a spirit of fun, and a more serious intent to support the idea that story (versus plot) is truly the journey inside. That’s true for everyone.
Barbara, in truth and cheekiness aside, one thing I love about this post and your last is how surgically you distinguish what is different in the experience of women in life and on the page. We might truly call your work the definition of The Heroine’s Journey. It’s important.
As a human being (and soon to be dad of a daughter), though, I do feel despair over the journey you describe. Truly, I hate it. Scars? No one should bear them. What does it say about our civilization when The Heroine’s Journey is founded on healing?
I wonder, Barbara, if where you are going from here is to explore a different value system, not only in life but in fiction. Right now it seems a choice between heroines who are wounded or kick-ass. (Simplistic, sorry, but a lot of fiction about women stirs a certain moral anger in me.)
What would a story look like if the story world and value system did not require women to be in a suffering position and in which there was no primacy yielded to, or measurement against, men?
What if women didn’t have to “heal”? What if empowerment weren’t sought but already internalized? What if men dwelt happily and equally in that world? Is this possible only in speculative fiction?
I love how precisely you describe the woman’s journey, Barbara, yet I also wonder whether we all, men and women authors alike, are celebrating–and thus perpetuating–the status quo? Are the Hero’s Journey and The Heroine’s Journey equally affirming our experience, or are they equally cementing gender inequality?
Perhaps such a question is not the right one to ask when there is yet no narrative model for women as well established, respectfully taught and universally understood as there is for men.
I do hope we’re all headed to the same place, though. I’d like to think so. That’s what I really feel.
B-
Oh, and I am not surprised by strong reactions to this post. (per your comment below.) You’re talking gender issues in life and in story. How could feelings not be strong?
And because I forgot to say it before: thank you. Outstanding post.
Thanks for this! I’m sorry if my questions came off as either defensive or accusatory, I was genuinely interested in your opinion on whether or not the difference (if there is truly a difference) between a female protagonist’s story and male protagonist’s story is in the overarching plot structure or in the particular details and how one would inform the other.
Thanks, Don, beautifully worded as always. I’m a little more curt than is normal for me because I’m having massive computer issues and it’s hard to reply coherently, but all these heartfelt, thoughtful comments are impossible to resist.
First of all, congratulations on the soon to arrive daughter! That’s fantastic news. :)
A lot of this material came out of a talk I gave recently, and it was much more deeply embroidered than I was able to present here. One of the things I talked about there is the fact that I am grandmother to a three year old girl who is wildly important to me, so I’m thinking about her and her journey and how to empower her to avoid the push to be squeezed down to size. So I have been thinking a lot about what pushes against women and girls.
I don’t see the female journey as a choice between being wounded/sad victim and kick-ass conqueror, but that has come up a lot in the comments, so I must have expressed myself poorly (or the ideas should all have been expressed in one post, which is highly likely).
They are all part of the journey, part of who women are. But I love the idea of a new paradigm, maybe one in which women haven’t had to fight so hard just to be even, but take it for granted that they are equal from birth. It is certainly more and more possible in ways that it never has been before in our culture, that’s for sure.
Thanks for the thoughtful reply.
This is strong stuff, Barbara, and I adore that you state you mind, believe in your ideals, and aren’t afraid to stand behind your opinions. Kudos to you.
I have two daughters, the oldest on the cusp of puberty. Many of the feminine obstacles you mention are rearing their good, bad, and ugly head. That said, I’d like to teach my daughters to overcome and rise above, to change the way the world thinks, even if only one person at a time.
And I do believe, if I had a son, I would teach him the same.
Think of what we can do with our stories, should we aim to break molds. Wonderful stuff.
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
I’m sure you’ll teach your daughters well, Denise. The more we think about what is, the better things get.
I think there is some truth to what you write about the difference between the hero’s journeys of male and female characters. Life does imitate art and there are definite differences in the way women are both perceived and represented in society.
That said, as storytellers, we get to CHOOSE the sorts of stories we want to tell. Stories don’t just happen, and neither the format nor outcome is set in stone (I’ve also read Victoria Lynn Schmidt’s book and recall, as an example, that she considers Harry Potter to follow a “feminine” hero’s journey). There’s no reason why a female character can’t similarly follow an outward “masculine” journey that leads to larger victory.
This female-as-victim-needing-to-find-her-inner-strength motif may unconsciously seep in if the writer chooses to just going along with the prevailing views of society, but fiction isn’t supposed to be about following the trend: it should be boundary-pushing, illuminating, and transformative.
Rather than “masculine” and “feminine” hero’s journey, I prefer the terms “external” and “internal”, which is a further reminder that either can be applied to characters of any gender.
Personally, I believe that the best stories contain both external and internal elements.
I was not at all advocating the female as victim motif. If you read the previous post, I wrote strongly against the Victim Character.
Internal and external are certainly ways to look at it, and we all create frameworks that serve the work best. I do believe there are powerful societal and cultural influences that make men and women respond differently to stimuli. Women are certainly engaged in external journeys, too–the example of Wild is an external journey.
Thanks for you comments
I appreciate this post because it opens up new terminology in terms of writing female protagonists. Where we’re all familiar with a ‘fatal flaw’ in the traditional language of storytelling, thinking of that same ‘flaw’ as a ‘scar’ or a ‘shame’ allows new insight and ability to explore some — predominately — feminine experiences that some writers may not consider or even realize exist.
Your post may not apply to every woman or to every character who is a woman, but it made me reconsider one of my characters and how to have her acknowledge and evaluate exactly what you are writing about: the scar that can occur as women are going through puberty and coming into their own. Having raised two daughters and of course been through this myself, I see very different trajectories for all women. We all have flaws, but they don’t fall along the same lines consistently.
This is much more than a how-to write article. Thank you for writing it, Barbara.
I must admit that I’m a little surprised by the strong reaction to this post. It seems self-evident to me, and quite ordinary. I’ve been using the storytelling ideas of Estes for a very long time and love her dissection of women’s lives.
Nearly all of the models we use to discuss character building are centered around male-centric ideas. It was only as I shed those ideas as the only possible way of creating characters and journeys that I was able to tell stories the way I felt in my gut that I could. And these ideas are part of what helped me.
I would guess it’s because the idea of most women belonging to the Scar Clan and carrying some secret shame is too often used as a justification for why female characters CAN’T have the kinds of outward hero’s journeys and story arcs that male characters have: women are fragile; women are sensitive; women lack confidence and strength; women aren’t funny; women can’t be action heroes, etc. etc. ad nauseum. For those who look to their fiction for a thrilling vicarious experience of women acting out in the world and being rewarded for it, these ideas can feel limiting.
Thanks for this post, Barbara. I found myself nodding, and saying yes, yes. I would be underlining and writing in the margins if it were on paper. I’m glad to have these reminders I continue to revise the novel, taking the women characters deeper and more developed.
PS It’s not only in fiction I found myself connecting today.
I’m with Jana. I think the terms “internal” and “external” are more useful, as they apply to both genders, and because both are in play at all times in each gender. It is the dynamics of this internal/external life that makes people, and characters, interesting, as each ‘life’ exerts its influence on the other.
For example, consider the recent flooding in Texas. This is a horrific external (masculine?) event, affecting thousands of people, both male and female. The initial internal (feminine?) reaction of most people is fear, resulting externally (masculine?) in some version of “fight or flight”. But who decides to fight, who decides to flee, and why, is internal, even though its a decision that may be made in a matter of seconds or less. We all know the stories about the people who decide to ride-out a storm (fight). Why do they do it? Disbelief? To prove to they’re not afraid? To dare their God? Because losing their home would be the same as losing their life? And, whether fighting or fleeing, each choice comes with more external obstacles that will challenge the internal resources, (including beliefs), of each individual: rising water, being wet and cold, roads and bridges washed out, poor or no communication, etc. Will men and women handle these challenges differently? Of course. But, they are still individuals, and how they handle them will likely be just as much a result of their age and experiences as their maleness and femaleness. The young female soldier with survival training will have a different expectation (and perhaps desire) regarding her ability to survive, than the 80 year-old, overweight, male banker with a heart condition.
The external, be they events, mountains, space, the bad guys, etc., challenges all individuals, not just men. And, the internal will determine both the approach to those challenges and the outcome, for all individuals, not just women. The internal can also change as a result of encounters with the external–and that’s the point of telling the story.
An amazing post and a subject matter I’d love to read more. This resonated with me, and when I stopped to think of all the books I’ve loved, I found the author has illustrated the feminine journey with honesty, including shame and scars.
In the best of writers, they are able to bring the arc to the conclusion of “We bring the secrets and truths back to the community.” This story then becomes our story, their healing becomes a possibility for our own introspection and healing.
None of this is to say that a woman can’t have the classic “male journey,” of course they can, as storytellers can choose whichever story they want to tell.
What I found your article saying was how writers might delve deeper into the female protagonist and make the character more authentic and resonant for readers. For that, I’m grateful for your post.
Kudos, Barbara.
This multilayered post carries many truths, as do the comments. And I look forward to your second post. May I jump in?
It seems to me that:
1) Beauty is the albatross of women through genetic function, the species passing genes on to “viable” mates. Female beauty (both sexual and feminine) is correlated to giving birth and nurturing, so beauty embodies quintessential power. (Damn straight, men are jealous and fearful of that. BTW, I don’t believe, at base, that beautiful women aren’t taken seriously, so much as feared.) My own take is that today’s women suffer because as a society we, both genders, refuse to plumb the wisdom in the preternatural power of sexuality. We partake reflexively—we ‘do it’ and move on. And through this cultural ignorance, we live on edge, driven by our genes, this black unknown; the result is we behave badly. And here men suffer, too.
2) When talking about character and novels, we should be careful to not conflate journey with activity. The action of males in novels is not their journey; that is their activity—the realm society says they do best. Go for it, boys. The inner work of females isn’t their activity, it’s their journey. Stay at home, my dears! The genders operate as surrogates, live vicariously for the other . . . and suffering rages. So Donald saying we come at the same place from different directions is true, so long as we live partially in our little realms of gender. But a male journey looks a lot like a woman’s—there is heart work. And a woman’s activity will often take place out of the home—she will have to define and defend boundaries.
3) Authenticity eludes males in equal measure to women. Males who win to exclusion of taking their inner journey suffer agony onwards towards death; they never discover who/what they are . . . and literature has been kind to show us this. We just don’t often believe what we read.
Interesting points! My latest project has a strong female protagonist, so I’m taking in all the good advice I can.
Can you say, strong narrative voice?
You’re not going to find many passive sentences in this post.
Padawan learn much from Jedi Master O’Neal.
Thanks as ever, Brian.
Interesting post. Quite controversial but still. Love this Cheryl Strayed’s book. It has been film adapted recently and Reese Witherspoon did an amazing job! Recommend it.
Barbara, your strong post (and many of the comments) are giving me pause in thinking the main female character in my WIR (sadly, work in regress) has a mechanical, clichéd path of self-victimization and shallow redemption. Thank you for impelling me to re-think that.
As soon as I read the top two comments I was filled with relief. Because I’ve spent the vast majority of the day being boggled by the gross generalizations in this post. Not only in terms of the male and female stereotypes–many of which clinical mental health research does not support by the way–but the blatant bias poorly disguised by the disclaimer “most”.
You just need to look at YA to disprove many of the claims in this post. John Green has made a living off of primarily male protags with an internal journey. So has Matthew Quick. So have many of the “classic YA” novels we grew up reading during school when we were supposedly being programmed into our so-called gender roles.
But beyond that, there are the cultural implications another comment mentioned which is FINALLY being brought to light by the We Need Diverse Books movement. Not to mention the voices of the QUILTBAG community.
Then there is the concept that women should be taught to fear men. Because women are incapable of abuse, rape, violence, etc? How about the men who have experienced these things at the hands of a woman and are too SHAMED to speak up? As a mental health clinician I feel confident saying there are many internal struggles men experience that are poorly addressed or not at all addressed in fiction.
Finally, what I felt was most missing here was that ANY main character should have both an internal and external journey–regardless of whether they’re male or female OR questioning OR non-binary. Because that’s just quality character development and strong writing. Period.
The point of this rant is this: I think it’s extremely important to talk about what makes a protagonist strong–however they identify their gender. But not at the expense of reality, which is that a person is a person. Their gender identity is only one part of their identity. And any stereotyping assumptions are not okay.
Thanks, Dannie. I suspect you have not read the first segment of these essays, which established that the two articles are about strong female protagonists. Not about men in any way.
As a woman writer who writes about women characters ranging from childhood to crone, and one who also has a background in mental health work, I feel I am entitled to explore the subject of the twenty five years of my career. Nor do I neglect the men in my work, who have fully developed inner and outer lives, scars and terrible journeys of their own.
It’s just that this particular piece is about subtle things writers can do to explore the internal journey of women.
Got it. So because you’re writing about women it’s okay to make gross generalizations about men so that you can validate your point. And yes, I did read your first post as well. I just wasn’t as offended by it. I love the assumption that I didn’t read it because I disagree with you though. Sort of proves my point.
Yes, it often seems as if women are from one planet, and men are from another. Much of it is due to how we’re raised. But, in many cases, our reaction to a particular situation is an inborn trait; a gender-specific attribute. Neither response is superior to the other; nor is it inferior. The end result is still the same: we all become introspective at various points in our lives, and we all want to be treated with respect and accepted for who we are. Believe me – we men endure our share of internal struggles and question our purpose in life. That’s neither a female nor a male characteristic. It’s called being human.
Barbara
What a magnificent post – you’ve got us all talking, thinking and debating gender, journey, society, socialization and how we as a species play out the roles we THINK we’re given…bravo. I loved this and I loved all the comments and reactions. Just reading this has made me rethink one of the main characters in my current WIP.
Best,
Cheryl
Hi, Cheryl! Good to see your phosphors. :)
Thanks for sharing this insightful post. There is so much truth in there, and the way you have expressed it helps me with a female character I am developing. :)