Order of the Phoenix and the Surprise of Gender
Order of the Phoenix and the Surprise of Gender
As a committed and proud feminist and Harry Potter fan, I noticed something of a change after the publication of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. This change came in the area of gender roles and the treatment of the female characters. J.K. Rowling does not explicitly address the issues of feminism or sexism (unlike, for example, racism, which she tackles head on) but her stance on gender-relations is encoded within the novels. My belief is that Order of the Phoenix radically changed that message on gender.
In an essay written just before the publication of Order of the Phoenix, one critic stated that “the Harry Potter books feature females in secondary positions of power and authority and replicate some of the most demeaning, yet familiar, cultural stereotypes for both males and females.”(1) While the author overstates the case against the Harry Potter novels pre-Order of the Phoenix in various ways, several observations are made which bear careful consideration.
One of the most important arguments is that “males are represented more often, but they are also depicted as braver, more powerful, and more fun than females.”(2) The female characters who are given significant roles before Order of the Phoenix were Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Molly Weasley, Petunia Dursley, Fleur Delacour, and Cho Chang. (Just to be clear, for the purposes of this essay, a significant role is one which has an effect on the plot.) If one considers what these significant roles were before Order of the Phoenix, a less then satisfactory picture emerges.
The first female character to be considered when writing about Harry Potter is, of course, Hermione Granger. As the hero’s best friend, and the designated ‘brain’ of the Trio, there is no shortage of representation of this girl. Moreover, she is described in detail, unlike the one-note characterisations granted to other female characters. Nonetheless, her particular skill-that is her precocious intelligence-is a safely ‘feminine’ area of excellence (though this designation is a very modern one), and one that is never shown as desirable or attainable for the male characters, Harry and Ron. “Hermione is primarily an enabler of Harry’s and Ron’s adventures, rather than an adventurer in her own right.”(3) This is an assumption I am unwilling to fully agree with, but it is worth noting that Hermione’s development in Order of the Phoenix showcases both the powerful intelligence and magical abilities which had only been spoken of in the other novels-in Philosopher’s Stone she uses logic, in Chamber of Secrets she is Petrified, in Prisoner of Azkaban she uses the Time-Turner (which is a device, rather than a demonstration of her innate abilities) and in Goblet of Fire she helps Harry to train for the tournament, but is not shown using magic herself. Of course, we are given frequent demonstration of her abilities in class, but not ‘when it counts’ - rather, at times of crisis she tends to panic, and needs Harry and/or Ron to support her in a way that they do not.
Hermione is not shown as ‘an adventurer in her own right’ because her role in the novels is as one of two side kicks-her natural complement, structurally, and romantically, being Ron Weasley. Of course, a feminist critique must ask why the strongest female character in the novels is shown as ‘only a sidekick’ because women are so frequently relegated to those sorts of roles in popular culture, but fundamentally, one cannot quantify inspiration. And while Hermione may be a sidekick, in Order of the Phoenix, her intelligence and ability, though not exceeding what is expected of her, is showcased far more than in any of the previous novels. Her skills are demonstrated all through the novel-whether they are in magic (e.g. her mastery of the Protean Charm) or in clear thinking (e.g. her suggestion of starting Dumbledore’s Army, and that going after Sirius Black is a bad idea.) Furthermore, all throughout the novel, various characters draw our attention to her special abilities, e.g. “We just haven’t got your brains or your memory or your concentration” (OotP, 207), “I’m glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate” (OotP, 225), “How come you’re not in Ravenclaw…with brains like yours?” (OotP, 353.)
There is another female character who is finally given a chance to shine, and that is Professor McGonagall. Until Order of the Phoenix, she had been a second-rank character, Dumbledore’s most stalwart supporter, a disciplinarian and teacher, and a formidable woman whom Harry “had always expected…to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present.” (OotP, 644) These are all things the reader expected of McGonagall but they are not fully demonstrated until Order of the Phoenix. In this novel, due to Dumbledore’s relative absence, Minerva McGonagall can be fully exhibited to the reader, and finally in confrontation with a worthy foe (Dolores Umbridge). Not only is she shown resisting Umbridge as much as possible, but, like Hermione, other characters comment on her, “Oh, I can’t wait to see McGonagall inspected…Umbridge won’t know what’s hit her.” (OotP, 276) and “As if one of them could have Stunned Minerva McGonagall face on by daylight!” (OotP, 644) A basis of comparison is also drawn between her and the two great villains of the novel-Dolores Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange, who, like her, are the most loyal servants of a particular male leader. Like Hermione, McGonagall’s role is expanded, but not beyond what the reader has been led to expect, which is unlike that of the next character I shall discuss, who delivered perhaps the greatest shock to reader perceptions of gender within Harry Potter.
This character is Ginny Weasley. Ginny is one of several one-note female characters who are suddenly expanded in Order of the Phoenix, and who, thus, confound reader expectations. Even those female characters whose roles affected the plot were often defined and in some ways confined by one particular characteristic - e.g. Fleur Delacour’s beauty, or Molly Weasley’s role as a mother. Part of the ‘shock’ of Order of the Phoenix is this expansion of roles, combined with the addition of new female characters such as Dolores Umbridge, Luna Lovegood, and Bellatrix Lestrange. Until Order of the Phoenix, Ginny has been defined almost entirely by the fact that “she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to The Burrow.” (GoF, 51) This has frequently been construed in the wrong ways-“Ginny is the archetypal girl and is presented as deeply passive, weak, and receptive.”(4) There are, in fact, hints that Ginny Weasley is anything but passive, weak, and receptive, spread throughout the first four novels, but these are few in number and so carefully integrated into the overall narrative that the casual reader will simply overlook them.
Thus, Ginny Weasley arrives on the scene, and for the first time she is not described as “small and red-haired” (GoF, 51) but “a long mane of red hair” (OotP, 66). The distinction is minor, but important, and Ginny unfolds from that point onwards. The character that is shown in Order of the Phoenix is so different from common reader expectations that accusations of slovenly writing and ‘Ginny-Sue’ are common. Ginny’s abilities are commented on by other characters, “Size is no guarantee of power…Look at Ginny” (OotP, 94), “Ginny’s not bad…I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us” (OotP, 506), but as similar statements made about Hermione and McGonagall, this is certainly not unusual, nor an instance of the cardinal sin of ‘telling, not showing’. The only other major piece of information about Ginny that is communicated to us through another character is that she has a boyfriend, which, for various reasons of plot and characterisation, she could not and would have communicated herself.
The Ginny Weasley that emerges in Order of the Phoenix is powerful, intelligent, out-going, and empathetic. She is good at Quidditch-the first major female character who plays the sport (Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet do not advance the plot and are also relatively generalised)-does “very well” (OotP, 349) at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and, most importantly, shows herself as being able to handle Harry Potter’s unpredictable emotional state, whether by a short, sharp shock, or quiet comfort. The “stupid little Ginny” (CoS, 229) tag is completely and comprehensively exploded-she is now acknowledged as a competent and important witch in her own right, and is, rather blatantly at times, demonstrated to be superior to many others, especially Cho Chang.
A form of literary one-upmanship has been written between Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley - with, as the release of Rowling’s notes demonstrates, the express intention of creating foil characters. Both Ginny and Cho are attracted to Harry Potter; both of them have suffered at the hands of Voldemort, Cho through the murder of her boyfriend Cedric Diggory, and Ginny through his possession and attempted murder of her when she was eleven years old; both of them are Quidditch players; both of them offer names for the DA, though in this case, as in all others Ginny is revealed to be the victor.
This is one of the many ways in which Cho’s character is revealed, like Ginny’s, to be rather contrary to reader expectations. Cho Chang is set up as the novels’ golden girl-“she was very pretty; she was also a very good Quidditch player, and she was also very popular” (GoF, 339)-an assumption that is utterly undermined by Order of the Phoenix. Cho may be pretty, athletic, and popular, but she also demonstrates an understandable, but nonetheless lamentable, lack of judgement and sensitivity. She spends most of her page-time in the novel either furious or in tears, adding to the burdens of the already harassed hero, and the qualities which attracted him in the first place, her popularity, prettiness, and athleticism are shown, ultimately to be a shallow basis for romantic interest: “You’re well out of it, mate…she’s quite good-looking, and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.” (OotP, 763.) She is not “the beautiful and exotic Asian love interest…more…a symbol rather than a fully developed character,”(5) but a young girl struggling with personal loss and the subsequent grief and depression in rather ill judged ways.
Two more ‘one-note’ characters are convincingly expanded in Order of the Phoenix-Molly Weasley and Petunia Dursley. Both have served as the mothers of the series-complete opposites until the publication of the fifth novel, whereupon they move closer together. This is not to imply that Molly Weasley is anything like the neurotic and arid Petunia Dursley-she is not-but by the end of Order of the Phoenix, neither of them is the archetypal good or bad mother that they have been throughout the series. Molly Weasley, Harry’s surrogate mother figure, has been a formidable, but loving, and slightly too perfect figure throughout the novels (as with Ginny, there have been previous hints at a more complex personality but these were not elaborated on until Order of the Phoenix.) She is given credible doubts and imperfections, and is shown not as a perfect mother but as good a mother as possible under the circumstances (which is an entirely different kettle of fish.) Furthermore she is shown in conflict with Harry’s beloved godfather, Sirius Black, and being not entirely reasonable with it.
Petunia Dursley meanwhile is shown to be as important to Harry’s survival as his own mother was, “She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years.”(OotP, 737) She is no longer depicted as a caricature of middle-class hypocrisy and ‘respectability’ but rather, “Aunt Petunia was his mother’s sister…he was not the only person in the room who had an inkling of what Lord Voldemort being back might mean.” (OotP, 39) Professor Trelawney is also shown to have had far more of an effect on Harry’s life than the reader has been led to believe is possible (her brand of Divination is disparaged throughout the novels.) Although the expansion in these characters is not as noticeable as in the cases Ginny Weasley and Cho Chang, it conforms to the pattern of reversing commonly held reader assumptions about female characters.
Another way in which Order of the Phoenix offers a different view of gender is with the new characters. These include Madam Bones, Nymphodora Tonks, Susan Bones (who is not new, but might as well be, as Order of the Phoenix is the first time she speaks), and, most importantly, Luna Lovegood. Luna is the stock ‘kooky’ girl who has turned up in every teen-movie since the dawn of time-but after building up her status as a ‘Loony’ throughout the novel, J.K. Rowling completely undermines the stereotype by giving this ‘weird’ girl an understanding of death, loss, and grief and a balanced response to all three which no one else in the novel shares. This does not change the fact that she is distinctly strange, but rather it serves to illuminate that whether she is ‘queer’ or not, Luna is also a person of innate sensitivity.
However, the most important new female characters are the two villains-Dolores Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange. It is highly important that there be female villains in a series like Harry Potter, because to deny women’s capacity to be cruel as well as kind, and evil as well as good, is to undermine the value of female virtue, and ultimately to make women less than human. Bellatrix Lestrange is a truly delicious villain-satisfyingly demented, and capable of acting contrary to the supposedly inherent ‘maternal’ instincts, singling out the most childlike of her opponents: “Take the smallest one…Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” (OotP, 691) She is shown however not as a pantomime villain, but someone capable of true brutality, and the most frightening of any Death Eater we have yet come across(6).
Dolores Umbridge, meanwhile, is a more complex figure. Speaking a nauseating kind of ‘New Speak’, she is a bureaucrat gone mad, someone who, like Bellatrix Lestrange, is willing to torture children. She is Rowling’s best illustration yet of ‘the banality of evil’, and may well be the series’ most successful villian. It is not simply that Umbridge is repulsive and autocratic, inflexible and intolerant, but that stereotypically ‘feminine’ props mask her brand of evil. These props - the Alice band, the pink cardigan, the kittens, and above all her adoption of a sugary, simpering voice - would seem to suggest the non-threatening female, though of course Umbridge is anything but. Rather these symbols are perverted, and the attributes of the ‘sweet’ woman, or the angel in the house, become truly sinister.
On one level, this suggests a great deal about what Rowling considers to be valuable gender roles, and it is not surprising to discover that what she values in female characters is much the same as what she values in the male. That is - a sense of humour, a fiery temper (when directed towards a proper object), a willingness to stand up against intolerance, violence and cruelty, kindness, intellectual brilliance and emotional maturity. The potential difficulty that lies in Umbridge’s portrayal, and one which extends into Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, is a tendency to disparage those women who happen to fulfil stereotypical gender roles. This is not yet anything more than a tendency - and I certainly would not identify it as a ‘problem’ as yet, however, the portrayal of Lavender Brown, in particular is somewhat discomfiting.
One would hope that Rowling would be clear-sighted enough to provide a model of gender that suggests that gender is essentially irrelevant when determining a character’s moral and intellectual strength. However, aspects of Half-Blood Prince would seem to call this into question. For instance, when in Fred and George Weasley’s joke shop, Hermione and Ginny are seen to consciously set themselves against the things that appear to attract most of the teenage girls - that is the love potions and cosmetic products the twins are selling. This is not in and of itself particularly bothersome, however the suggestion that Ginny and Hermione, the two most important young female characters, are atypical, that they are different and thus superior to their peers, is. The stereotypical teenage girl is not shown to be a particularly strong or virtuous individual - rather they are depicted as weak and silly, and Romilda Vane is, in addition, judgemental (with regard to Luna and Neville Longbottom) and somewhat predatory.
I wish to restate that there is nothing wrong with these depictions in and of themselves - Romilda Vane is an extremely funny character, and certainly adds to the pleasure of the novel - but when taken in the overall context of the novel, they do become somewhat disconcerting. Why must Hermione Granger’s romantic rival be a formulaic teenage bimbo? Lavender Brown is shown to be Hermione’s antithesis - pretty, flirtatious, less than intellectual, somewhat shrewish, and ultimately cast-aside. The question, to put it simply, is this - why is it necessary for Hermione’s virtue to be defined as distinct from Lavender’s ‘bad’ conventionality? Hermione is evidently ‘better’ than Lavender - but why is this shown to be the case in such specifically gendered terms?
Certain aspects of Half-Blood Prince do contradict my argument here - Fleur Delacour is an effective example of the traditional female heroine, i.e. the woman of perfect beauty, who proves to be rather more than convention would allow her. Rather than a feather-brained twit, she is a former Hogwarts Champion (although, as has been pointed out, she was the least successful and only female Champion) and, although an obnoxious and difficult house-guest, she is also a passionate and formidable woman, who is value lies as much in her enduring attachment to the people she loves (her sister and Bill Weasley) as her beauty. Parvati Patil meanwhile, who has been shown to be an extremely attractive teenage girl in the mould of Lavender Brown is granted a redeeming kindness towards Hermione Granger. It is for this reason that I identified my concerns with regard to the depiction of gender in Half-Blood Prince as a tendency, rather than a definite trend. As Harry Potter is an unfinished series, I would hesitate to criticise the books on these grounds, however, I believe Rowling would balance her treatment of the young female characters considerably, if she would grant one of the typical teenage girls (i.e. not Hermione, Ginny or Luna, none of whom are ‘typical’, though Ginny is the closest to it) a moment of genuine heroism in the final novel.
The comfortable assumption that the male characters are the ones who ‘count’ in Harry Potter was completely undermined by Order of the Phoenix, and having described how this occurred, I shall now propose why. I do not think that female characters increased in importance due to a desire to appease a mysterious and apparently all-powerful group of feminists; rather I think it is a development planned from the beginning of the series. Order of the Phoenix is not only the novel in which assumptions about women in the series were convincingly undermined; it is also the novel in which assumptions about the men in the series were weakened. I think it is more than coincidence that while all the male authority figures-Cornelius Fudge, Albus Dumbledore, James Potter, and Sirius Black-were being undermined in one way or another, the female characters were being considerably fleshed out, shown as more powerful and more complex than we had previously been aware. This is a vital part of Harry Potter’s development-as a young man he has to learn to fully appreciate the women in his life, something he had singularly failed to do. This, of course, is understandable. Boys of thirteen and fourteen naturally tend to think more about other boys as being admirable, than girls-but in Order of the Phoenix Harry Potter began to learn the important lesson of neither underestimating nor simplifying the women around him. I would hope that readers could follow the lesson on gender encoded in Order of the Phoenix and then consolidated in Half-Blood Prince.
Footnotes
1. Heilman, Elizabeth E. “Blue Wizards and Pink Witches: Representations of Gender, Identity and Power.” Harry Potter’s World: Multidisciplinary Critical Perspectives. UK: Routledge Falmer, 2003: 222.
2. Ibid page 223.
3. Ibid page 224.
4. Ibid page 230.
5. Ibid page 230.
6. This is a distinction which she, post-Half Blood Prince, shares with Fenrir Greyback, who, interestingly enough, also shares her trait of singling out children for violent attack.
Bibliography
Heilman, Elizabeth E. “Blue Wizards and Pink Witches: Representations of Gender, Identity and Power.” Harry Potter’s World: Multidisciplinary Critical Perspectives. UK: Routledge Falmer, 2003.
Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. UK: Bloomsbury, 1998.
-------------. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. UK: Bloomsbury, 2000.
-------------. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. UK: Bloomsbury, 2000.
As a committed and proud feminist and Harry Potter fan, I noticed something of a change after the publication of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. This change came in the area of gender roles and the treatment of the female characters. J.K. Rowling does not explicitly address the issues of feminism or sexism (unlike, for example, racism, which she tackles head on) but her stance on gender-relations is encoded within the novels. My belief is that Order of the Phoenix radically changed that message on gender.
In an essay written just before the publication of Order of the Phoenix, one critic stated that “the Harry Potter books feature females in secondary positions of power and authority and replicate some of the most demeaning, yet familiar, cultural stereotypes for both males and females.”(1) While the author overstates the case against the Harry Potter novels pre-Order of the Phoenix in various ways, several observations are made which bear careful consideration.
One of the most important arguments is that “males are represented more often, but they are also depicted as braver, more powerful, and more fun than females.”(2) The female characters who are given significant roles before Order of the Phoenix were Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Molly Weasley, Petunia Dursley, Fleur Delacour, and Cho Chang. (Just to be clear, for the purposes of this essay, a significant role is one which has an effect on the plot.) If one considers what these significant roles were before Order of the Phoenix, a less then satisfactory picture emerges.
The first female character to be considered when writing about Harry Potter is, of course, Hermione Granger. As the hero’s best friend, and the designated ‘brain’ of the Trio, there is no shortage of representation of this girl. Moreover, she is described in detail, unlike the one-note characterisations granted to other female characters. Nonetheless, her particular skill-that is her precocious intelligence-is a safely ‘feminine’ area of excellence (though this designation is a very modern one), and one that is never shown as desirable or attainable for the male characters, Harry and Ron. “Hermione is primarily an enabler of Harry’s and Ron’s adventures, rather than an adventurer in her own right.”(3) This is an assumption I am unwilling to fully agree with, but it is worth noting that Hermione’s development in Order of the Phoenix showcases both the powerful intelligence and magical abilities which had only been spoken of in the other novels-in Philosopher’s Stone she uses logic, in Chamber of Secrets she is Petrified, in Prisoner of Azkaban she uses the Time-Turner (which is a device, rather than a demonstration of her innate abilities) and in Goblet of Fire she helps Harry to train for the tournament, but is not shown using magic herself. Of course, we are given frequent demonstration of her abilities in class, but not ‘when it counts’ - rather, at times of crisis she tends to panic, and needs Harry and/or Ron to support her in a way that they do not.
Hermione is not shown as ‘an adventurer in her own right’ because her role in the novels is as one of two side kicks-her natural complement, structurally, and romantically, being Ron Weasley. Of course, a feminist critique must ask why the strongest female character in the novels is shown as ‘only a sidekick’ because women are so frequently relegated to those sorts of roles in popular culture, but fundamentally, one cannot quantify inspiration. And while Hermione may be a sidekick, in Order of the Phoenix, her intelligence and ability, though not exceeding what is expected of her, is showcased far more than in any of the previous novels. Her skills are demonstrated all through the novel-whether they are in magic (e.g. her mastery of the Protean Charm) or in clear thinking (e.g. her suggestion of starting Dumbledore’s Army, and that going after Sirius Black is a bad idea.) Furthermore, all throughout the novel, various characters draw our attention to her special abilities, e.g. “We just haven’t got your brains or your memory or your concentration” (OotP, 207), “I’m glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate” (OotP, 225), “How come you’re not in Ravenclaw…with brains like yours?” (OotP, 353.)
There is another female character who is finally given a chance to shine, and that is Professor McGonagall. Until Order of the Phoenix, she had been a second-rank character, Dumbledore’s most stalwart supporter, a disciplinarian and teacher, and a formidable woman whom Harry “had always expected…to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present.” (OotP, 644) These are all things the reader expected of McGonagall but they are not fully demonstrated until Order of the Phoenix. In this novel, due to Dumbledore’s relative absence, Minerva McGonagall can be fully exhibited to the reader, and finally in confrontation with a worthy foe (Dolores Umbridge). Not only is she shown resisting Umbridge as much as possible, but, like Hermione, other characters comment on her, “Oh, I can’t wait to see McGonagall inspected…Umbridge won’t know what’s hit her.” (OotP, 276) and “As if one of them could have Stunned Minerva McGonagall face on by daylight!” (OotP, 644) A basis of comparison is also drawn between her and the two great villains of the novel-Dolores Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange, who, like her, are the most loyal servants of a particular male leader. Like Hermione, McGonagall’s role is expanded, but not beyond what the reader has been led to expect, which is unlike that of the next character I shall discuss, who delivered perhaps the greatest shock to reader perceptions of gender within Harry Potter.
This character is Ginny Weasley. Ginny is one of several one-note female characters who are suddenly expanded in Order of the Phoenix, and who, thus, confound reader expectations. Even those female characters whose roles affected the plot were often defined and in some ways confined by one particular characteristic - e.g. Fleur Delacour’s beauty, or Molly Weasley’s role as a mother. Part of the ‘shock’ of Order of the Phoenix is this expansion of roles, combined with the addition of new female characters such as Dolores Umbridge, Luna Lovegood, and Bellatrix Lestrange. Until Order of the Phoenix, Ginny has been defined almost entirely by the fact that “she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to The Burrow.” (GoF, 51) This has frequently been construed in the wrong ways-“Ginny is the archetypal girl and is presented as deeply passive, weak, and receptive.”(4) There are, in fact, hints that Ginny Weasley is anything but passive, weak, and receptive, spread throughout the first four novels, but these are few in number and so carefully integrated into the overall narrative that the casual reader will simply overlook them.
Thus, Ginny Weasley arrives on the scene, and for the first time she is not described as “small and red-haired” (GoF, 51) but “a long mane of red hair” (OotP, 66). The distinction is minor, but important, and Ginny unfolds from that point onwards. The character that is shown in Order of the Phoenix is so different from common reader expectations that accusations of slovenly writing and ‘Ginny-Sue’ are common. Ginny’s abilities are commented on by other characters, “Size is no guarantee of power…Look at Ginny” (OotP, 94), “Ginny’s not bad…I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us” (OotP, 506), but as similar statements made about Hermione and McGonagall, this is certainly not unusual, nor an instance of the cardinal sin of ‘telling, not showing’. The only other major piece of information about Ginny that is communicated to us through another character is that she has a boyfriend, which, for various reasons of plot and characterisation, she could not and would have communicated herself.
The Ginny Weasley that emerges in Order of the Phoenix is powerful, intelligent, out-going, and empathetic. She is good at Quidditch-the first major female character who plays the sport (Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet do not advance the plot and are also relatively generalised)-does “very well” (OotP, 349) at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and, most importantly, shows herself as being able to handle Harry Potter’s unpredictable emotional state, whether by a short, sharp shock, or quiet comfort. The “stupid little Ginny” (CoS, 229) tag is completely and comprehensively exploded-she is now acknowledged as a competent and important witch in her own right, and is, rather blatantly at times, demonstrated to be superior to many others, especially Cho Chang.
A form of literary one-upmanship has been written between Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley - with, as the release of Rowling’s notes demonstrates, the express intention of creating foil characters. Both Ginny and Cho are attracted to Harry Potter; both of them have suffered at the hands of Voldemort, Cho through the murder of her boyfriend Cedric Diggory, and Ginny through his possession and attempted murder of her when she was eleven years old; both of them are Quidditch players; both of them offer names for the DA, though in this case, as in all others Ginny is revealed to be the victor.
This is one of the many ways in which Cho’s character is revealed, like Ginny’s, to be rather contrary to reader expectations. Cho Chang is set up as the novels’ golden girl-“she was very pretty; she was also a very good Quidditch player, and she was also very popular” (GoF, 339)-an assumption that is utterly undermined by Order of the Phoenix. Cho may be pretty, athletic, and popular, but she also demonstrates an understandable, but nonetheless lamentable, lack of judgement and sensitivity. She spends most of her page-time in the novel either furious or in tears, adding to the burdens of the already harassed hero, and the qualities which attracted him in the first place, her popularity, prettiness, and athleticism are shown, ultimately to be a shallow basis for romantic interest: “You’re well out of it, mate…she’s quite good-looking, and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.” (OotP, 763.) She is not “the beautiful and exotic Asian love interest…more…a symbol rather than a fully developed character,”(5) but a young girl struggling with personal loss and the subsequent grief and depression in rather ill judged ways.
Two more ‘one-note’ characters are convincingly expanded in Order of the Phoenix-Molly Weasley and Petunia Dursley. Both have served as the mothers of the series-complete opposites until the publication of the fifth novel, whereupon they move closer together. This is not to imply that Molly Weasley is anything like the neurotic and arid Petunia Dursley-she is not-but by the end of Order of the Phoenix, neither of them is the archetypal good or bad mother that they have been throughout the series. Molly Weasley, Harry’s surrogate mother figure, has been a formidable, but loving, and slightly too perfect figure throughout the novels (as with Ginny, there have been previous hints at a more complex personality but these were not elaborated on until Order of the Phoenix.) She is given credible doubts and imperfections, and is shown not as a perfect mother but as good a mother as possible under the circumstances (which is an entirely different kettle of fish.) Furthermore she is shown in conflict with Harry’s beloved godfather, Sirius Black, and being not entirely reasonable with it.
Petunia Dursley meanwhile is shown to be as important to Harry’s survival as his own mother was, “She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years.”(OotP, 737) She is no longer depicted as a caricature of middle-class hypocrisy and ‘respectability’ but rather, “Aunt Petunia was his mother’s sister…he was not the only person in the room who had an inkling of what Lord Voldemort being back might mean.” (OotP, 39) Professor Trelawney is also shown to have had far more of an effect on Harry’s life than the reader has been led to believe is possible (her brand of Divination is disparaged throughout the novels.) Although the expansion in these characters is not as noticeable as in the cases Ginny Weasley and Cho Chang, it conforms to the pattern of reversing commonly held reader assumptions about female characters.
Another way in which Order of the Phoenix offers a different view of gender is with the new characters. These include Madam Bones, Nymphodora Tonks, Susan Bones (who is not new, but might as well be, as Order of the Phoenix is the first time she speaks), and, most importantly, Luna Lovegood. Luna is the stock ‘kooky’ girl who has turned up in every teen-movie since the dawn of time-but after building up her status as a ‘Loony’ throughout the novel, J.K. Rowling completely undermines the stereotype by giving this ‘weird’ girl an understanding of death, loss, and grief and a balanced response to all three which no one else in the novel shares. This does not change the fact that she is distinctly strange, but rather it serves to illuminate that whether she is ‘queer’ or not, Luna is also a person of innate sensitivity.
However, the most important new female characters are the two villains-Dolores Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange. It is highly important that there be female villains in a series like Harry Potter, because to deny women’s capacity to be cruel as well as kind, and evil as well as good, is to undermine the value of female virtue, and ultimately to make women less than human. Bellatrix Lestrange is a truly delicious villain-satisfyingly demented, and capable of acting contrary to the supposedly inherent ‘maternal’ instincts, singling out the most childlike of her opponents: “Take the smallest one…Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” (OotP, 691) She is shown however not as a pantomime villain, but someone capable of true brutality, and the most frightening of any Death Eater we have yet come across(6).
Dolores Umbridge, meanwhile, is a more complex figure. Speaking a nauseating kind of ‘New Speak’, she is a bureaucrat gone mad, someone who, like Bellatrix Lestrange, is willing to torture children. She is Rowling’s best illustration yet of ‘the banality of evil’, and may well be the series’ most successful villian. It is not simply that Umbridge is repulsive and autocratic, inflexible and intolerant, but that stereotypically ‘feminine’ props mask her brand of evil. These props - the Alice band, the pink cardigan, the kittens, and above all her adoption of a sugary, simpering voice - would seem to suggest the non-threatening female, though of course Umbridge is anything but. Rather these symbols are perverted, and the attributes of the ‘sweet’ woman, or the angel in the house, become truly sinister.
On one level, this suggests a great deal about what Rowling considers to be valuable gender roles, and it is not surprising to discover that what she values in female characters is much the same as what she values in the male. That is - a sense of humour, a fiery temper (when directed towards a proper object), a willingness to stand up against intolerance, violence and cruelty, kindness, intellectual brilliance and emotional maturity. The potential difficulty that lies in Umbridge’s portrayal, and one which extends into Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, is a tendency to disparage those women who happen to fulfil stereotypical gender roles. This is not yet anything more than a tendency - and I certainly would not identify it as a ‘problem’ as yet, however, the portrayal of Lavender Brown, in particular is somewhat discomfiting.
One would hope that Rowling would be clear-sighted enough to provide a model of gender that suggests that gender is essentially irrelevant when determining a character’s moral and intellectual strength. However, aspects of Half-Blood Prince would seem to call this into question. For instance, when in Fred and George Weasley’s joke shop, Hermione and Ginny are seen to consciously set themselves against the things that appear to attract most of the teenage girls - that is the love potions and cosmetic products the twins are selling. This is not in and of itself particularly bothersome, however the suggestion that Ginny and Hermione, the two most important young female characters, are atypical, that they are different and thus superior to their peers, is. The stereotypical teenage girl is not shown to be a particularly strong or virtuous individual - rather they are depicted as weak and silly, and Romilda Vane is, in addition, judgemental (with regard to Luna and Neville Longbottom) and somewhat predatory.
I wish to restate that there is nothing wrong with these depictions in and of themselves - Romilda Vane is an extremely funny character, and certainly adds to the pleasure of the novel - but when taken in the overall context of the novel, they do become somewhat disconcerting. Why must Hermione Granger’s romantic rival be a formulaic teenage bimbo? Lavender Brown is shown to be Hermione’s antithesis - pretty, flirtatious, less than intellectual, somewhat shrewish, and ultimately cast-aside. The question, to put it simply, is this - why is it necessary for Hermione’s virtue to be defined as distinct from Lavender’s ‘bad’ conventionality? Hermione is evidently ‘better’ than Lavender - but why is this shown to be the case in such specifically gendered terms?
Certain aspects of Half-Blood Prince do contradict my argument here - Fleur Delacour is an effective example of the traditional female heroine, i.e. the woman of perfect beauty, who proves to be rather more than convention would allow her. Rather than a feather-brained twit, she is a former Hogwarts Champion (although, as has been pointed out, she was the least successful and only female Champion) and, although an obnoxious and difficult house-guest, she is also a passionate and formidable woman, who is value lies as much in her enduring attachment to the people she loves (her sister and Bill Weasley) as her beauty. Parvati Patil meanwhile, who has been shown to be an extremely attractive teenage girl in the mould of Lavender Brown is granted a redeeming kindness towards Hermione Granger. It is for this reason that I identified my concerns with regard to the depiction of gender in Half-Blood Prince as a tendency, rather than a definite trend. As Harry Potter is an unfinished series, I would hesitate to criticise the books on these grounds, however, I believe Rowling would balance her treatment of the young female characters considerably, if she would grant one of the typical teenage girls (i.e. not Hermione, Ginny or Luna, none of whom are ‘typical’, though Ginny is the closest to it) a moment of genuine heroism in the final novel.
The comfortable assumption that the male characters are the ones who ‘count’ in Harry Potter was completely undermined by Order of the Phoenix, and having described how this occurred, I shall now propose why. I do not think that female characters increased in importance due to a desire to appease a mysterious and apparently all-powerful group of feminists; rather I think it is a development planned from the beginning of the series. Order of the Phoenix is not only the novel in which assumptions about women in the series were convincingly undermined; it is also the novel in which assumptions about the men in the series were weakened. I think it is more than coincidence that while all the male authority figures-Cornelius Fudge, Albus Dumbledore, James Potter, and Sirius Black-were being undermined in one way or another, the female characters were being considerably fleshed out, shown as more powerful and more complex than we had previously been aware. This is a vital part of Harry Potter’s development-as a young man he has to learn to fully appreciate the women in his life, something he had singularly failed to do. This, of course, is understandable. Boys of thirteen and fourteen naturally tend to think more about other boys as being admirable, than girls-but in Order of the Phoenix Harry Potter began to learn the important lesson of neither underestimating nor simplifying the women around him. I would hope that readers could follow the lesson on gender encoded in Order of the Phoenix and then consolidated in Half-Blood Prince.
Footnotes
1. Heilman, Elizabeth E. “Blue Wizards and Pink Witches: Representations of Gender, Identity and Power.” Harry Potter’s World: Multidisciplinary Critical Perspectives. UK: Routledge Falmer, 2003: 222.
2. Ibid page 223.
3. Ibid page 224.
4. Ibid page 230.
5. Ibid page 230.
6. This is a distinction which she, post-Half Blood Prince, shares with Fenrir Greyback, who, interestingly enough, also shares her trait of singling out children for violent attack.
Bibliography
Heilman, Elizabeth E. “Blue Wizards and Pink Witches: Representations of Gender, Identity and Power.” Harry Potter’s World: Multidisciplinary Critical Perspectives. UK: Routledge Falmer, 2003.
Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. UK: Bloomsbury, 1998.
-------------. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. UK: Bloomsbury, 2000.
-------------. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. UK: Bloomsbury, 2000.