In Defense of the Weak Girl

When the discussion turns to common annoyances in YA books (or any books, probably) one common complaint is the weak female character. I won't say her name, but she loves a sparkly vampire and has become the poster girl for the kind of character nobody wants. She lets things happen. She is obsessed with a boy. She whines. 

And before I go further let me clarify, I don't love a weak character. My favorite books feature characters who make things happen, who are intelligent and problem-solving. Who save themselves and don't wait for someone else to do it for them.

But I got to thinking as I was listening to an audiobook this afternoon (and I won't mention the title right now. I will just say it is making me uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. But we'll see.). You know, sometimes I am a weak character in my own life. Sometimes I've let people save me. Sometimes I've needed them to save me. Sometimes I'm stupid. Sometimes I care too much about trivial things and crave praise to make me feel valued. 

Does that make me one of those girls? What does that even mean, anyway? Is there a list of qualities which you must achieve in life to become a "real" woman? Because sometimes I feel like there is. A complicated algebraic equation of amount you're allowed to care about fashion over the time spent reading times which boys you swoon over to the power of which indie bands you listen to. (I am clearly a math genius). 

And if the numbers add up right and you take a few kickboxing classes then you qualify as a "strong" female. Or in the case of books, a strong female character. 

But what if my numbers don't add up? Can my story still be valuable? What if the girl waits for the prince to save her? What if she doesn't know how to save herself? Can she still be an interesting character? Can her story still be worth telling? 

Yes.

Because a real girl can sometimes be a damsel-in-distress and still be intelligent and complex and have hidden depths. Because I can care too much about what number the scale says and what other people think of me. Because when I was a teenager I just wanted a boyfriend because it made me feel like I had value. And not a single one of those facts tells the whole story about me or defines my strength, then or now. In fact, some of my strength now comes from feeling that way then. I learned things. I grew. And yeah, some of it I still struggle with. 

I'm rewriting my WIP (again. I know.). And I'm thinking about my two female characters. I love them both. And I hope they don't get plunked in a category (Strong. Weak. Mid-weight!) because they fit some checklist. 

A weak character can be complex and worthy too. And a strong character can kick butt but lack depth. Women come in all shapes and sizes and personalities. There's room in my library for a weak character. What about yours?

Oh, hi.

Many things have happened since I last blogged. Many. Big things. Like moving across country. And having a baby. Okay, mostly those two things. So I won't make excuses about not blogging I'll just start again. Yay!

I have a six month old daughter. She is perfect. I also have three other children. I believe they were perfect once (maybe not the redhead...). I promised my husband no more children because even though I love her perfect baby cheeks and I could squoosh them and snuggle them and kiss her all day, loving babies is not a good reason to keep having kids. Because you know they grow too fast. Anyway, right now I'm just basking in her perfectness.

Meanwhile, almost-three-year-old is not potty trained. I wonder if this should bother me? She also likes to drink her milk in baby bottles. No real reason other than preference and I say, whatever. A glass of milk in a bottle every day isn't a big deal. I know some people think I should fix this little habit of hers. And I think, why? Who decided a sippy cup was more socially acceptable and so all toddlers must use sippy cups. She drinks everything else from a cup. She just likes milk in a bottle. And frankly, she spills less.

Also, I signed the twins up for kindergarten, and 1. It freaked out this former homeschooler. I promised myself we would reevaluate often and definitely before first grade. 2. They wanted the boys in separate classrooms as a matter of policy. Really? Maybe that's great for some twins but I really, really think it would be bad for my boys. Some things I get to decide as the parent. I'm taking control on this one or I'm yanking them from the system. End. Of. Story.

I wish I was as relaxed about all the little things I do that aren't socially perfect. My house isn't as clean, my clothes are not pinterest perfect, my body is a bit lumpy-bumpy (remember the four kids part?) I snuggle and kiss my daughter's perfect cheeks and I'll go to bat defending my kids quirks, but my own?

We don't all have to be the same. The end.

I'm Sorry

Sorry to post about feminine hygiene. I know I probably lost one of my dirty dozen followers with that sentence. Goodbye. You are mourned. 


Ahem.

I was thinking the other day, for NO REASON AT ALL, about feminine hygiene. And I was thinking about those horrible Mother Nature commercials Tampax runs.


Maybe, there's nothing wrong with this commercial. But let's be honest with each other. It's creepy. Not only seeing "mother nature" as a vindictive *not young* woman, but that somehow her little "gift" is just to ruin our lives, and if we can somehow get over, you know, being a WOMAN things will be better.

In contrast, there are these commercials:


Bravo Kotex. Bravo for pointing out that its all a marketing thing anyway. That the whole point of feminine hygiene products is to, well, work. They don't make it so that suddenly you are free to jog up a mountain or run around in clubs in skin-tight pants, dancing until dark. Can't we be honest? Periods suck. They make you feel yucky and bloaty and gross. But, I love that I'm a girl. Love that I've got kids. So, whatever. I'll deal with it an move on and all I freakin' need is something that does what it says it will do and then can we all please move on?

Also: if I choose to hang out in bed and eat a carton of Ben and Jerry's on that day of the month rather than cavorting in a club with my cronies, well, I will not be made to feel I've given into some vindictive force outside my control, or that if only I had the right protection I would feel different.

Thank you.

(PS, Kotex, A. Tampax...C? I'll let you know when I'm less irritable)