Hear Me Out: The ‘strong female character’ trope is anything but feminist
After the second wave of feminism emerged in the 1960s and ’70s, many female scholars began thinking about the representation of women on screen. Cinema plays a fundamental role in shaping our cultural perceptions of different groups – the way people are represented perpetuates stereotypes that come to define our lived experiences, which can often result in dangerous consequences. Feminist film theory was kickstarted by Laura Mulvey, whose 1973 essay Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema presented groundbreaking ideas on the male gaze (first coined by John Berger), incorporating psychoanalytic theory to suggest that most female characters are framed from a voyeuristic, heterosexualised gaze.
Feminist film theory has significantly developed since then, with scholars such as bell hooks, for example, suggesting that Mulvey’s theory excludes the role of black women in cinema. However, the crux of Mulvey’s argument – that women are routinely objectified, subordinated by the camera lens, and rarely given autonomy – still stands. While cinema has progressed to include more female main characters over the years, the industry’s androcentrism has left many of these women in the hands of male writers and directors, subsequently presenting a warped idea of womanhood.
Out of this scramble to present womanhood in a way that contrasts old Hollywood tropes, such as the sexy femme fatale or victimised damsel in distress, have come some new archetypes. Most notably, we have the ‘strong female character’, which has dominated action and superhero genres since the late 1970s. By attempting to create female characters who are strong and powerful, many (male) filmmakers trick viewers into thinking that these women must be the epitome of feminist empowerment.
However, more often than not, these characters are the antithesis of feminism – they simply become one-dimensional and, in essence, an extension of the male gaze. While the traditional idea of the male gaze posits that heterosexual male viewers derive satisfaction from seeing women as sexualised and submissive beings, it’s not hard to see how male audiences might get a similar kick out of the other end of the spectrum – watching a woman being dominant and powerful. After all, there’s a reason why female dominatrix are so popular. Confined to the safety of the big screen and uncomplicated by a lack of other emotions and defining traits, male viewers might experience a scopophilic pleasure from these flimsily-written women, who pose no threat to their real-life masculinity. These characters possess no weakness, no flaws and no emotion, posing an unrealistic representation of not just womanhood but the entire human experience.
Through the ‘strong female character’ archetype, these women become caricatures of a type of womanhood that doesn’t exist. Instead, male writers project a masculine idea of strength onto these characters. When is Hollywood going to realise that giving a woman masculine traits does not make for empowerment? These strong female characters are associated with traits that we stereotypically assign to men – coldness, a machine-like determinism, a lack of vulnerability and emotion. Yet, that’s not an accurate representation of anyone’s lived experience, regardless of gender, and it only serves to alienate female viewers. It seems as though Hollywood is trying to tell us that the only way to become an empowered woman is to be more like a man.
Yet, it’s perfectly fine for a female character to show weakness and emotion; the strongest thing one can do is acknowledge these traits and be unashamed of them. If writers want to create well-rounded female characters, they must present the nuances of womanhood – we can be strong, resilient, angry, upset, passionate, hopeless, stubborn, uncertain, loving and funny all at once – we don’t need to be boxed into different tropes.
Throughout cinema, many ‘badass’ female action stars, like Sarah Connor in The Terminator franchise, have only achieved that status through their assimilation into male culture. In the first movie, Sarah is portrayed as a damsel in distress, but in the sequel, she becomes powerful – a supposed feminist icon. Yet she does so through her adoption of stereotypically male characteristics and androgynous clothing; director James Cameron suggests that for a woman to be strong, she cannot show stereotypically feminine traits.
However, take a look at someone like Neve Campbell’s Sidney Prescott in the Scream franchise – she is a much better example of a well-rounded female character who can be both strong and vulnerable. We see her overpower Ghostface and come out on top every time; she is a true final girl. Yet, Wes Craven is unafraid to show us Sidney in her weaker moments – such as grieving the deaths of her peers or experiencing trauma. She is sometimes shown hysterically crying, yet this is a completely natural and human reaction to her extraordinary circumstances, making her a multidimensional and oftentimes relatable character.
British actor Emily Blunt once spoke out about her frustrations with ‘strong female characters’. She told The Telegraph, “It’s the worst thing ever when you open a script and read the words ‘strong female lead’. That makes me roll my eyes. I’m already out. I’m bored. Those roles are written as incredibly stoic, you spend the whole time acting tough and saying tough things.”
The strong female character trope still remains a particularly prevalent phenomenon, especially in the Marvel Universe, and it’s tiring to see women portrayed with such a lack of nuance. For women to be accurately portrayed on screen, writers must take into account our real experiences. Most importantly, it must be emphasised that femininity is not incompatible with strength, and it is essential that the representation of women on screen reflects this.
