Skip to main content

One girl in all the world...

If you watched a horror movie prior to the 1990s you were likely going to be faced with a beautiful, perky, blonde white woman who was going to have the worst time ever, and end up with a whole lot of PTSD, if she survived at all. From the Hitchcock Blonde of the 1950s and 1960s to the busty cheerleader of the 1970s and 1980s, the archetype was everywhere, and she always ended badly. And then, in the 1990s, the narrative that we thought we all knew, that we were so familiar with, was turned on its head, and we were introduced to something completely different. She was still blonde, and perky, and a cheerleader, but she also kicked so much supernatural ass that she became a cultural icon in her own right.

When Joss Whedon created Buffy the Vampire Slayer his intention was to allow that silly, blonde cheerleader to take back the power that had been taken from her over decades of horror movies. He created a character who was small and athletic, not stupid but not the sharpest tool in the shed, brave, heroic, and not a little arrogant. She was also destined and fated to be "...a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampiresdemons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their number. She is the Slayer". Essentially, over the course of seven seasons (I don't count the movie, just the show) the character of Buffy Summers would go on a journey equal to that of any tragic hero, including Odysseus, and do it while navigating high school, dating, parental conflict, as well as the larger cultural issues of the day. But through all of it, through every fight, and every death, and all the Big Bads that cropped up year after year, Buffy kept fighting the good fight, because that was the right thing to do. Even when her chosen-ness became a little less solo, after she died (the first time) and another Slayer rose up, she kept going. She could have devolved into the shallow woman she was before she rose, but she didn't. She defied the expectations fo what it meant to be a woman that looked like her, from the background that created her. She could have become a rich man's wife, like many a southern California blonde. She chose to be something else instead. 
That's not to say that the show didn't have its problematic moments, And there is no avoiding the fact that Joss Whedon turned out to be a trash-fire of a human being who's "feminism" only extends as far as attractive young white women over whom he holds some modicum of power. This kind of behavior from powerful men in Hollywood is all too common and brings up completely different discussions about how to deal with tainted favorites. That being said, for a time, Buffy Summers presented a strong role model who never lost her ability to drop a witty pun while beating the ass of beings that were larger and meaner and older. And she did it all while looking fabulous and defying ancient prophecies. If Buffy can do all that, you should never let anyone tell you that you can't have it all.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"You don't look like your dad!" Tales of Legal Adoption

"You don't look like your dad. You must be the spitting image of your mother!" or "Your brothers look just like your dad! I bet you take after your momma." I heard these statements a lot growing up. And it's true. I don't look like my dad. And for a while, I didn't really look like my mom. I do now, but that isn't the point. You see, my dad adopted me when I was around six or seven years old. He had been a part of my life, for, well, all of it. When my mother and biological father (sometimes I refer to him as my sperm donor, because I think it's funny, but his name is Chris), got divorced, my dad, Kenny, married my mom resulting in a blended family of me, who was biologically my mom's, and my two brothers, who were biologically his. Suddenly I went from being the only child to being the middle child in a family dynamic that takes a lot of explaining to do. They say divorce and the things I supposedly went through in my early childhood...

Melanie and Melanie: Growing up with Separated Lesbian Moms in the South

I came from a sperm bank, well I came from a vagina, but first I came from a sperm bank. That’s not generally my opener, but we need to make it clear. My moms discovered their sexuality long before I came along in 1992. When I was three, they separated. Gay marriage had not been legalized up to this point, so there was no divorce process involved. However, my mama, Sharon, she gave birth to me, and she wanted full custody of me. My other mom, Sylvia, worked tirelessly to pay for my existence and Sharon’s pregnancy care; she loved me, and I was her child no matter what. They went to court, and Sylvia became one of the first lesbian parents in the state of Texas to receive shared custody of a child that was not biologically hers. In some cases, this still doesn’t always happen, particularly in cases with gay and lesbian parents, regardless of how involved the parent is in their child’s life. “Who do you want to live with?” Flash forward seven years or so, and I’m being given more...

Storytelling for Social Cohesion

            If I had the opportunity to create an intensive storytelling workshop series for the public, I would like to focus my efforts on something that would be a boon to whole communities, rather than focusing on simple self-help. Though I do think that there are many self-focused narrative-crafting tools that are extremely healing and necessary, I think that our tendency in this capitalist culture is to locate the source of all of our problems squarely within ourselves. We are always discouraged from looking at the systemic causes of our alienated condition, and all the self-help in the world will not solve major forms of social and political oppression.              I would craft a series that blends both self-healing and community-healing forms of narrative. I would like to model my workshop series on the techniques and methods of a Palestinian-Israeli youth...