I Can’t Believe It’s She-Ra.
I found it. Deep in the primordial ooze of my infant memories, right next to Land Before Time, The Last Unicorn and The Brave Little Toaster, I always knew there was a cartoon blonde woman who rode a pegasus and wielded a sparkling, identity-switching greatsword. And like them, she was stamped indelibly in my subconscious. That’s right, there’s no telling how much influence She-Ra: Princess of Power has had over the person who is now me. We’re not talking about something I obsessed over when I was nine. This is no Power Rangers or Captain Planet. I must have been four or five when I encountered this thing.
I don’t know how I ended up watching it on the internet. But from the first few scenes, I was convinced I’d found her. I didn’t remember the name of the character or even much about the cartoon itself, but I’ve always remembered how it made me feel. Even from the time I was very little, I noticed how unfair gender roles seemed in the entertainment I consumed. Women just never seemed to be doing anything. My favorite genre, fantasy, sparked my imagination and transported me to other worlds, but the main character was invariably a man who I didn’t identify with. This meant that the few times I did encounter an animated fantasy centered around a woman, I’d latch onto it and never let go. I’ve always carried a memory of that brightly colored VHS tape sitting on the lower level of a wooden rack in the tiny video rental store in Navajoland–we were still living on the Rez, which is how I know I must’ve been really young–and that I begged my mother to take it out for me again.
Now, I know it was She-Ra.
After watching a few episodes, I also know why I remember my mother rolling her eyes and sighing when I went up to her, clutching the video. It’s literally the most unsubtle thing I’ve ever watched, and I watch Walker, Texas Ranger.
Later he'll stare down a bear.
There are some things from our foggy childhood memory-ooze that deserve to be enjoyed again as we grow up (the three films I mentioned in the second sentence of this post are excellent examples), but even as I watch this cartoon and torment my poor husband with the horrible voice acting, I know that the thrill I’m getting from it is entirely related to my memories and not the show itself. It’s just an animated advertisement for some toys, after all, with utterly ridiculous characters1 and cludgy moral messages. But I can take comfort in the fact that what it helped me to believe when I was very young, that it’s possible for female characters to ride around on horses swinging swords and being the main focus of a story, is worthwhile. Sometimes, something doesn’t have to be good in order to matter.
It’s also very gratifying whenever I discover that a piece of media I remember from long ago actually exists and isn’t just a figment of my imagination. I’m still holding out hope that that weird Alice in Wonderland ripoff that has mind control in it and a villain who lives in a bowling ball house wasn’t just a dream I had once. I mean, the kangaroo ninjas turned out to be from a real movie, and they were a much stupider idea! If anybody ever watches something that has a guy who lives in a bowling ball, they need to let me know.
- My favorite character description from the Wikipedia page is this: “Sweet Bee is a bee-woman from an intergalactic bee colony who came to Etheria seeking Bees and a new home when her race of Bee’s homeworld is destroyed by Wasps.” [↩]
Girls & Games
I came across this post in my internet wanderings while I was trying to find out what percentage of players of The Sims 2 were female (about 60 or 65 percent, by the way), and it got me thinking. What draws the female audience to games like The Sims? What qualities could a game have that attracts women in general?
I’m in agreement with Ms. Knight that games can be made to cater to a wide female audience without having to be “pink” games that nobody with a penis would be caught dead with, and that women who are potential gamers are a market widely untapped by the industry. And the differences in the way these games were made could be a lot more subtle than the hammer-hitting done by the toy industry:
I’ve always been what I consider to be a feminist, but I was turned off to it for a while in high school when I found out that it can also involve a lot of screeching and the annoying denial of any innate differences whatsoever between men and women. A while ago, however, I came back to it, determined to find a more reasonable way to believe in rights and respect for women. My sister, who went through the same process, calls this “born-again feminism.” I think that young women of my generation (and the generations to come) are going to learn to stand up for themselves without being shrill. In many ways, they already have. And hopefully, the games the corporate world is trying to aim at us will highlight the ways men and women can communicate with one another and not rely on further division between us.
