The Bechdel Test and High Fantasy
Cross-posted from my writing blog here, but it seemed like a pretty decent fit for my (itsy bitsy) audience here.
I got into a conversation this week about the Bechdel Test with some other writers. The Bechdel Test, if you're not familiar with the term, is a means of testing gender bias in a work of fiction (usually movies). It asks whether the work in question has:
1) At least two female characters
2) Who talk to each other
3) About something other than a man.
Many of its proponents also insist that the characters be named women. A depressingly large number of movies fail this test. This does not make them bad movies, but it is indicative of the real problem that women don't have anything close to equal representation in film.
A common criticism of this test is that it doesn't reflect the depth of that representation, only its breadth. That is, you can have those women talking about stereotypical "female topics" like clothes and babies and still pass the Bechdel Test. You don't even have to give them any significant screen time - just enough to show that some conversation is happening. Supporters sometimes say this is kind of the point - movies don't even pass the test by cheating, which only makes their failure more pathetic.
More recently, a fan of Pacific Rim suggested an alternative or complimentary test of representation of women called the Mako Mori Test (named for the film's female protagonist). A work passes Mako Mori if it has:
1) At least one female character
2) who gets her own narrative arc
3) that is not about supporting a man's story.
In many ways, this is a much easier test to pass, although loads of movies fail it. I don't think it is an adequate enough measure of the representation of women in fiction to act as a replacement for the Bechdel Test. However, I find the Mako Mori Test intriguing as an addition to the Bechdel Test. If Bechdel is minimal measure the quantity of representation - it's breadth, if you will (multiple women talking to each other about something other than a man) - then the Mako Mori Test acts as a minimal measure of the quality of representation - its depth (at least one woman has her own story focused on her).
Less than 60% of movies pass the Bechdel Test. I don't know the numbers on the Mako Mori Test, but many of those that wouldn't pass Bechdel would not pass Mako Mori, either. In fact, some of those works that pass Bechdel don't pass Mako Mori (and vice versa). The value in examining these tests together does not lie in saying "if a work passes either, it passes a basic test of the inclusion of women." Rather, I feel it is worth demanding that most works be able to pass both tests, and even that is a low bar, requiring that the movie or book has:
1) At least two female characters
2) who talk to each other
3) about something other than a man,
4) and at least one of them gets her own story arc
5) that is not about supporting a man's story.
This doesn't get a work a gold star that says, "This is a feminist work," but it indicates the creator has made at least a minimal effort to include women as a part of the story. In short, it means it is less of a part of the problem (lack of representation of women in fiction and film) than a work that fails either or both Bechdel and Mako Mori.
Why should I or anyone else care? I hear people (mostly white men) complain that these sorts of tests encourage writers to create casts of characters using arbitrary and artificial guidelines. They object that some stories (like The Shawshank Redemption) have no room for a conversation between two women, while others (like Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark) really only have room for one character's arc. If women want better representation, these critics declare, they should write the stories themselves!
These arguments miss the point of exercises like the Bechdel Test and the Mako Mori Test. The process of creating a cast of characters is already arbitrary. The author (or screenwriter) determines the traits of every character s/he creates, including the character's sex. Indiana Jones is a cool character worthy of his own story arc (and film franchise), but if Raiders of the Lost Ark didn't exist there would still be plenty of male action heroes. The Shawshank Redemption is an incredible film, but if it didn't exist, there would still be plenty of jailbreak movies featuring men.
As a white male writing in a genre that has traditionally been dominated by white male authors writing for white boys and men (high fantasy), when I'm called upon to introduce a new character, it is easier by far to default to one that either shares my experience as a cissexual, heterosexual, dominant-culture male or fits existing tropes - many of which assume gender roles that don't make nearly as much sense in our imaginary worlds as some would have us believe. It is trivially easy to be more inclusive in terms of representing other groups in one's fiction, but only if you don't ignore the problem and "go with the flow." Whether we want to accept the role or not, as writers we help shape the culture of our genre, even if it is only in a small way.
This is even more important for indie authors or author-publishers or whatever it is we're calling ourselves these days. One common excuse creators in "the biz" make for failing to achieve really basic tests like this is that those with decision-making power (producers, editors, publishers, and directors) do not take representation seriously. It's easy to cluck tongues at an executive's declaration that blockbuster action movies starring a woman will fail at the box office, but what can the poor, well-meaning screenwriter or author do? And what can an audience do to combat this except boycott movies that do not so much as nod at a more equal representation? Grind our collective teeth, mostly.
But indie filmmakers? Indie authors? We have no such excuse. We are responsible for everything that goes into our books - from the cover art to the plot to the characters. So if we want to ignore the opportunity to be more inclusive in favor of mostly peopling our books with characters who look like us, hey, that's our call to make. But it would wouldn't be the bravest one we could make.
The Bechdel and Mako Mori Tests may be less critical in other genres where representation is less of a problem, but the geek subculture that reads high fantasy (not all fantasy readers are geeks, but many geeks are fantasy readers) is not as inclusive as women and minorities as it could, and should, be. In truth, it can be actively hostile to women, who are perceived as a minority even though they make up half the human population, and as outsiders even though geek women are every bit as passionate about the things the love as any man.
There's really no reason why geekdom shouldn't have just as many women in it as men, but at least part of the problem is a lack of fair representation of women in the books and movies intended to target geeks. While some girls will still fall in love with the sort of "boy with a sword" books I read growing up, I don't think balance in the geek community can happen without greater and better representation of women (and minorities) in the media that targets that community - especially the young people of that community.
As "just another white, male fantasy author," I can't be a female voice in geekdom, but I can choose to write books that do not tell young women that they have no place in fantasy except as characters who play the same roles women have been playing in fantasy stories since the Middle Ages. I find that exercises like the Bechdel Test and the Mako Mori Test help draw my attention to missed opportunities to stop being a part of the problem (under-representation of women in high fantasy).
Kingmaker passes Mako Mori but not Bechdel. In fairness, neither of us had heard of the Bechdel Test when we were writing it, so the whole "if you don't think about it, you'll gravitate toward writing characters like yourself" thing applies to us as well. That has since been remedied. Lesson of the Fire passes both. Nosamae Ascending will easily pass both. It wasn't difficult. It didn't require us to turn our books into "an affirmative action campaign," as some authors seem to think it would. A little bit of awareness can go a long way, and a little bit of representation can make the genre, and the people who read it, that much more inclusive.
I got into a conversation this week about the Bechdel Test with some other writers. The Bechdel Test, if you're not familiar with the term, is a means of testing gender bias in a work of fiction (usually movies). It asks whether the work in question has:
1) At least two female characters
2) Who talk to each other
3) About something other than a man.
Many of its proponents also insist that the characters be named women. A depressingly large number of movies fail this test. This does not make them bad movies, but it is indicative of the real problem that women don't have anything close to equal representation in film.
A common criticism of this test is that it doesn't reflect the depth of that representation, only its breadth. That is, you can have those women talking about stereotypical "female topics" like clothes and babies and still pass the Bechdel Test. You don't even have to give them any significant screen time - just enough to show that some conversation is happening. Supporters sometimes say this is kind of the point - movies don't even pass the test by cheating, which only makes their failure more pathetic.
More recently, a fan of Pacific Rim suggested an alternative or complimentary test of representation of women called the Mako Mori Test (named for the film's female protagonist). A work passes Mako Mori if it has:
1) At least one female character
2) who gets her own narrative arc
3) that is not about supporting a man's story.
In many ways, this is a much easier test to pass, although loads of movies fail it. I don't think it is an adequate enough measure of the representation of women in fiction to act as a replacement for the Bechdel Test. However, I find the Mako Mori Test intriguing as an addition to the Bechdel Test. If Bechdel is minimal measure the quantity of representation - it's breadth, if you will (multiple women talking to each other about something other than a man) - then the Mako Mori Test acts as a minimal measure of the quality of representation - its depth (at least one woman has her own story focused on her).
Less than 60% of movies pass the Bechdel Test. I don't know the numbers on the Mako Mori Test, but many of those that wouldn't pass Bechdel would not pass Mako Mori, either. In fact, some of those works that pass Bechdel don't pass Mako Mori (and vice versa). The value in examining these tests together does not lie in saying "if a work passes either, it passes a basic test of the inclusion of women." Rather, I feel it is worth demanding that most works be able to pass both tests, and even that is a low bar, requiring that the movie or book has:
1) At least two female characters
2) who talk to each other
3) about something other than a man,
4) and at least one of them gets her own story arc
5) that is not about supporting a man's story.
This doesn't get a work a gold star that says, "This is a feminist work," but it indicates the creator has made at least a minimal effort to include women as a part of the story. In short, it means it is less of a part of the problem (lack of representation of women in fiction and film) than a work that fails either or both Bechdel and Mako Mori.
Why should I or anyone else care? I hear people (mostly white men) complain that these sorts of tests encourage writers to create casts of characters using arbitrary and artificial guidelines. They object that some stories (like The Shawshank Redemption) have no room for a conversation between two women, while others (like Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark) really only have room for one character's arc. If women want better representation, these critics declare, they should write the stories themselves!
These arguments miss the point of exercises like the Bechdel Test and the Mako Mori Test. The process of creating a cast of characters is already arbitrary. The author (or screenwriter) determines the traits of every character s/he creates, including the character's sex. Indiana Jones is a cool character worthy of his own story arc (and film franchise), but if Raiders of the Lost Ark didn't exist there would still be plenty of male action heroes. The Shawshank Redemption is an incredible film, but if it didn't exist, there would still be plenty of jailbreak movies featuring men.
As a white male writing in a genre that has traditionally been dominated by white male authors writing for white boys and men (high fantasy), when I'm called upon to introduce a new character, it is easier by far to default to one that either shares my experience as a cissexual, heterosexual, dominant-culture male or fits existing tropes - many of which assume gender roles that don't make nearly as much sense in our imaginary worlds as some would have us believe. It is trivially easy to be more inclusive in terms of representing other groups in one's fiction, but only if you don't ignore the problem and "go with the flow." Whether we want to accept the role or not, as writers we help shape the culture of our genre, even if it is only in a small way.
This is even more important for indie authors or author-publishers or whatever it is we're calling ourselves these days. One common excuse creators in "the biz" make for failing to achieve really basic tests like this is that those with decision-making power (producers, editors, publishers, and directors) do not take representation seriously. It's easy to cluck tongues at an executive's declaration that blockbuster action movies starring a woman will fail at the box office, but what can the poor, well-meaning screenwriter or author do? And what can an audience do to combat this except boycott movies that do not so much as nod at a more equal representation? Grind our collective teeth, mostly.
But indie filmmakers? Indie authors? We have no such excuse. We are responsible for everything that goes into our books - from the cover art to the plot to the characters. So if we want to ignore the opportunity to be more inclusive in favor of mostly peopling our books with characters who look like us, hey, that's our call to make. But it would wouldn't be the bravest one we could make.
The Bechdel and Mako Mori Tests may be less critical in other genres where representation is less of a problem, but the geek subculture that reads high fantasy (not all fantasy readers are geeks, but many geeks are fantasy readers) is not as inclusive as women and minorities as it could, and should, be. In truth, it can be actively hostile to women, who are perceived as a minority even though they make up half the human population, and as outsiders even though geek women are every bit as passionate about the things the love as any man.
There's really no reason why geekdom shouldn't have just as many women in it as men, but at least part of the problem is a lack of fair representation of women in the books and movies intended to target geeks. While some girls will still fall in love with the sort of "boy with a sword" books I read growing up, I don't think balance in the geek community can happen without greater and better representation of women (and minorities) in the media that targets that community - especially the young people of that community.
As "just another white, male fantasy author," I can't be a female voice in geekdom, but I can choose to write books that do not tell young women that they have no place in fantasy except as characters who play the same roles women have been playing in fantasy stories since the Middle Ages. I find that exercises like the Bechdel Test and the Mako Mori Test help draw my attention to missed opportunities to stop being a part of the problem (under-representation of women in high fantasy).
Kingmaker passes Mako Mori but not Bechdel. In fairness, neither of us had heard of the Bechdel Test when we were writing it, so the whole "if you don't think about it, you'll gravitate toward writing characters like yourself" thing applies to us as well. That has since been remedied. Lesson of the Fire passes both. Nosamae Ascending will easily pass both. It wasn't difficult. It didn't require us to turn our books into "an affirmative action campaign," as some authors seem to think it would. A little bit of awareness can go a long way, and a little bit of representation can make the genre, and the people who read it, that much more inclusive.