On slut-shaming and the dubious double-standards in Young Adult literature
A couple of weeks back, ceilidh_ann wrote about a troubling trend in modern Young Adult literature - female characters being demonized solely because are sexually liberated, even while male characters who act in similar manner get off scot-free.
As Ceilidh rightfully points out, this trend is problematic on multiple levels. On the most superficial level, it's bad characterization. Antagonists, are, by definition, supposed to by unsympathetic to some degree. But in order to be unsympathetic, the antagonists are required to do unsympathetic things. Like, say, bully the protagonist. But in all of the examples Ceilidh cites, the characters didn't actually do anything wrong. Their only sin was that they slept around and/or wearing clothing that is described as revealing and provocative. The authors don't explain why that's supposed to make us dislike the characters - they just assume that we will and proceed to treat a characters the way J.K. Rowling treated Draco Malfoy (who actually was verbally and physically antagonistic toward the protagonists of the Harry Potter series), except worse. At least, when all was said and done, Rowling did try to give most of her major antagonists more than one dimension, something which, none of the Ceilidh cited could be arsed to do.
On a deeper level, this is hypocritical. It goes back to a flawed attitude that permeates every facet of popular culture. When men sleep with many women, they are seen as "players," and their actions don't count against them. When women behave the same way, they are seen as disguising and worthless. The only difference here is gender.
Ceilidh's article sums ups the problem far better than I ever could with this sentence.
Sex is a game that men play, according to [Hush, Hush series], but for women it’s a tool to lessen their worth as a human being.
And finally, the trend send a pretty terrible message to its female readers is troubling. Adolescence is a time when men and women are supposed to discover their sexuality and start exploring their needs and wants. But when book after book tells teenage girls that having sex and experimenting is dirty, that they should be careful about what they do lest they become innately bad, that they deserve whatever bullying and scorn they receive for doing anything sexual. That is not healthy. Quite frankly, it's destructive.
I would strongly recommend that you read Ceilidh's entire article. It's well-written and presents its case in a pretty thorough and thoughtful way.
I will add that... Here is the thing. Human beings are different. We all have different wants and needs. Do I think that every girl should explore every facet of sexual behavior and have as much sex as possible? Of course not. That's not going to be everybody's cup of tea. Some girls may be perfectly content to wait it out. Some girls may try something, discover they don't like it and never do it again. Some girls may try something, discover they like it and keep doing it.
The key here is that they should feel free to try it without stigma. Some people are going to be judgmental (because that's human nature), but it's not something that should be condoned, and it certainly shouldn't be encouraged.
Now, personally, I used to take much dimmer view of sexually liberated women. But then, I met a girl. Let's call her Grace. We used to work together. She was smart, funny and, fun to be around. Nothing about the way she acted or dressed screamed "slut" - if anything, anyone who didn't know her would peg her as a cute nerdy girl.
During one outing, she got pretty drunk. And she started sharing things she didn't share with too many people. I had no idea she went to clubs, let alone that she clubbed as much as she did (though, if I was on Facebook back then, I probably would've figured it out pretty quickly). And she told us, in elaborate, often hilarious detail, about all the guys she's been with over the past few months.
That was a revelation. If I didn't know her at all, I probably would've dismissed her as a shallow slut. But after working with her for a few months, I knew better. And that's when it dawned on me. She was a good person. Nothing I heard that evening changed that. And, as I realized later, it shouldn't change anything. Because, when I thought about it, I couldn't explain why sleeping with a bunch of people was, in on itself, a bad thing.
Heck, in Grace's case, it wasn't as if she slept around all the time. She had her flings, but she also had long-term, committed relationships. And she tended to be pretty upfront about what she wanted in each case.
Ultimately, Grace changed the way I viewed casual sex. And it changed the way I wrote. Jasmine Morikawa would have never existed without her. Well, at least not in the form that made it onto my livejournal.
Maybe, somebody, we'd get to the point where we wouldn't need personal examples to overcome flawed assumptions about female sexuality. But for now, we need to respond to works of fiction that perpetuate those assumptions. And, as writers, we should try to do better.
As Ceilidh rightfully points out, this trend is problematic on multiple levels. On the most superficial level, it's bad characterization. Antagonists, are, by definition, supposed to by unsympathetic to some degree. But in order to be unsympathetic, the antagonists are required to do unsympathetic things. Like, say, bully the protagonist. But in all of the examples Ceilidh cites, the characters didn't actually do anything wrong. Their only sin was that they slept around and/or wearing clothing that is described as revealing and provocative. The authors don't explain why that's supposed to make us dislike the characters - they just assume that we will and proceed to treat a characters the way J.K. Rowling treated Draco Malfoy (who actually was verbally and physically antagonistic toward the protagonists of the Harry Potter series), except worse. At least, when all was said and done, Rowling did try to give most of her major antagonists more than one dimension, something which, none of the Ceilidh cited could be arsed to do.
On a deeper level, this is hypocritical. It goes back to a flawed attitude that permeates every facet of popular culture. When men sleep with many women, they are seen as "players," and their actions don't count against them. When women behave the same way, they are seen as disguising and worthless. The only difference here is gender.
Ceilidh's article sums ups the problem far better than I ever could with this sentence.
Sex is a game that men play, according to [Hush, Hush series], but for women it’s a tool to lessen their worth as a human being.
And finally, the trend send a pretty terrible message to its female readers is troubling. Adolescence is a time when men and women are supposed to discover their sexuality and start exploring their needs and wants. But when book after book tells teenage girls that having sex and experimenting is dirty, that they should be careful about what they do lest they become innately bad, that they deserve whatever bullying and scorn they receive for doing anything sexual. That is not healthy. Quite frankly, it's destructive.
I would strongly recommend that you read Ceilidh's entire article. It's well-written and presents its case in a pretty thorough and thoughtful way.
I will add that... Here is the thing. Human beings are different. We all have different wants and needs. Do I think that every girl should explore every facet of sexual behavior and have as much sex as possible? Of course not. That's not going to be everybody's cup of tea. Some girls may be perfectly content to wait it out. Some girls may try something, discover they don't like it and never do it again. Some girls may try something, discover they like it and keep doing it.
The key here is that they should feel free to try it without stigma. Some people are going to be judgmental (because that's human nature), but it's not something that should be condoned, and it certainly shouldn't be encouraged.
Now, personally, I used to take much dimmer view of sexually liberated women. But then, I met a girl. Let's call her Grace. We used to work together. She was smart, funny and, fun to be around. Nothing about the way she acted or dressed screamed "slut" - if anything, anyone who didn't know her would peg her as a cute nerdy girl.
During one outing, she got pretty drunk. And she started sharing things she didn't share with too many people. I had no idea she went to clubs, let alone that she clubbed as much as she did (though, if I was on Facebook back then, I probably would've figured it out pretty quickly). And she told us, in elaborate, often hilarious detail, about all the guys she's been with over the past few months.
That was a revelation. If I didn't know her at all, I probably would've dismissed her as a shallow slut. But after working with her for a few months, I knew better. And that's when it dawned on me. She was a good person. Nothing I heard that evening changed that. And, as I realized later, it shouldn't change anything. Because, when I thought about it, I couldn't explain why sleeping with a bunch of people was, in on itself, a bad thing.
Heck, in Grace's case, it wasn't as if she slept around all the time. She had her flings, but she also had long-term, committed relationships. And she tended to be pretty upfront about what she wanted in each case.
Ultimately, Grace changed the way I viewed casual sex. And it changed the way I wrote. Jasmine Morikawa would have never existed without her. Well, at least not in the form that made it onto my livejournal.
Maybe, somebody, we'd get to the point where we wouldn't need personal examples to overcome flawed assumptions about female sexuality. But for now, we need to respond to works of fiction that perpetuate those assumptions. And, as writers, we should try to do better.