I now have over 900 books included on my Goodreads account, and I've read 90 books so far in 2017. There's more to come - and hopefully more excitement from the blues :)

Non-Fiction Book Review - 'The Encyclopedia of Cats' by Michael Pollard

It's everything about cats. It's a cat lover's dream. It's exactly what it says on the tin. 

Why does this need a review?

Final Score: 4/5

Scribble #50

Give women the opportunity to do anything. Not just dance, or in any other creative arts, but in STEM fields, filmmaking, politics, government positions. Women have always excelled, we just need to acknowledge them, and give them experience. Let them fly. Let them soar. Let them talk, and listen to them.

Let me rise. Let me fall. Let me cry. Let me rain. Let me make a difference to people's lives.

Let me lead.

Free me.

Best weather in ages, broken by a few minutes of storms. Just your average British summer :)

Top 10 Hated Female Characters (but not by me)

If you google "fuck yeah controversial characters", there are Tumblr posts, if you can access them, defending so-called "controversial" characters in fiction, mostly in anime.

A character can be hated by the majority of a fanbase for numerous reasons - they are Mary Sues, they are obnoxious, they are annoying and a distraction, they are useless, they never experience change or growth overtime, etc. But disturbingly, a lot of the characters you will find who are deemed "controversial" are female, and the reasons for the hatred turned towards them are mostly because they display non-feminine traits. They are loud, assertive, make mistakes, are overconfident, are bitchy, are mean - the list goes on. In other words, they are hated for being human and flawed, something that popular male characters have always been praised for; and even if the men have no real flaws or are plain bad people, their actions are still excused again and again. Even the term Mary Sue, once used to describe too-perfect, fanfiction special snowflakes, has just turned into another way of saying, "A female character I don't like". Also take into account the reason for hating a female character when she is involved in a love triangle, and in the midst of a fan-shipping war. Nobody's ship should be a reason for hating a fictional character - that's just childish, and often has nothing to do with the actions of the characters themselves in context. If you doubt there being a double standard at play here, consider how many male characters are hated for not displaying traditional masculine traits (such as Shinji Ikari from 'Neon Genesis Evangelion').

Heck, what about the characters who are hated in-show but are beloved by the fanbase? See the TV Tropes page, Unpopular Popular Character, for examples of this. There's a flip-side for you.

Evidence suggests that sexism and misogyny do play a huge part in a mass loathing of a fictional character. And today I list the Top 10 female characters who are "controversial", either in-show or in their franchise's fanbase, but I like them anyway. I will defend them, believing, in own personal opinion, that the hate towards them is unfounded, unfair, blown out of proportion, or biased.

So, fuck yeah controversial female characters (warning, there may be more anger and profanity on this list than I've written before), here's my Top 10:





10. Leah Clearwater ('Twilight')

Ah 'Twilight', your treatment of women is beyond horrifying and grotesque. From a domestic abuse victim physically and emotionally scarred for life by a werewolf boyfriend whom she stays with, to Rosalie Hale, a gang rape victim who still wants children and is treated like crap for the absolutely terrible crime of not liking Bella Swan (she ends up liking her eventually though, because of course she does). But while Bella is disliked and treated with indifference even by 'Twilight' fans who cannot find one thing interesting about this author-insert avatar, in-universe she is seen as Jesus - everyone seems blind to how much of a manipulative, emotionless and sociopathic blank slate she is. With Leah Clearwater, it is the opposite. Leah is the only female werewolf in the entire franchise (it's 'Twilight', don't ask how that works, or is this like the Alpha Male view of "woman wolves are rare because they generally can't handle transformation pains like men can" bullshit popularized by Kelley Armstrong's 'Bitten'?), and she is treated like crap for being bitchy and, wait for it, not liking Bella. Leah is abandoned by her boyfriend Sam after he creepily imprints on her human cousin Emily, the domestic abuse victim I mentioned. Emily is kind and cooks, like she came out of Stepford, because what else is a woman to do? Leah is rightfully resentful and distrusting of Bella, for logical reasons, not just petty ones, but typically she is shut down and cast aside by others as just another nasty woman. She is the werewolf version of Rosalie, right down to being made to like Bella - who does what she does best, which is nothing - at the end of the series. You really do have to feel sorry for the women of 'Twilight' with personalities: If they had been in another franchise not written by Stephenie Meyer, they would have been treated a lot better. Leah is a werewolf Woobie girl, great in concept and character - so it's no wonder that people wish better stories for her; stories that respect her and don't waste on her potential. She deserves more, even if Meyer doesn't think so.


9. Pippi Longstocking

I've put Pippi low on the list because it's not like she's a universally hated children's character, or is hated in her own stories. On the contrary, everybody loves her in her books. I just think that the main reason for some people not liking or outright loathing her is that she's annoying. She's out of control. She's a criminal. She never shuts up. Yes. But Pippi Longstocking is a child. She's unsupervised, was never taught right from wrong, and has the freedom to do what she wants. But she thinks of others always, and will protect people from harm, from dangers not caused by her own actions. Heck, she wastes no time saving little kids from a burning building in her first book! No hesitation - Pippi's a hero. She is like a female Dennis the Menace, and look how popular he is. Pippi is more thoughtful, plus arguably more fun and innocent, than Dennis, so why the hate for her, who never intentionally causes trouble? Yeah, her innocence in that field could be considered more dangerous than if she were someone who knows she is being bad, but she is still nine-years-old! I love how Pippi, a fictional girl from the 1940s, doesn't give a hoot about gender roles, and is as loud and talkative as she likes. She is creative and imaginative. In a way, she is both a good and bad role model for children, and how awesome and complex is that to describe a female character? It is not about role models anyway; it is about having a fun, carefree personality for playing and going off on adventures. Pippi rocks.


8. Martha Jones ('Doctor Who')

While I don't watch 'Doctor Who' anymore, I remember the earlier companions. Martha was the Doctor's first black companion on his space adventures, but if the fanbase didn't hate her because they were racists, it was because she wasn't Rose Tyler. That's it. They just didn't like change. In my humble opinion, Rose was one of the most infuriating, smug, narcissistic Mary Sues ever put on the television screen, yet at the time of her run viewers loved her, even though she never did anything to lay claim that she is the Doctor's best companion ever. Martha Jones has much more personality, and Freema Agyeman played her very well even when she wasn't written to be dynamic or helpful. Now, some of the hatred or indifference towards her is understandable, what with her hopelessly pining for the Doctor, who constantly uses her as a means to an end, and that her doctoring training is rarely if ever put to any use in the show. Not helped that the writers keep comparing her to Rose, as if they refuse to let her go as much as the viewers. Hell, Martha even leaves the Doctor after her first season with him because she gets tired of him moping and missing Rose, ignoring her as her own person in the process. She is self-aware enough to get sick of playing second fiddle, and eventually realizes the Doctor isn't worth her pining and goes to become a real doctor in her own way. But then at the end of Russell T. Davies's run on 'Doctor Who', she is randomly married to Micky Smith, Rose's ex, with whom she had barely shared any screen time with, much less talked to. Aside from the fact that it was mentioned before that Martha had a different fiance - whom we never saw - Davies callously paired up the only two black characters in the main cast of 'Doctor Who' to each other. Did he not think that this was offensive in any way? Not to mention lazy. So yeah, Martha Jones got the short end of the stick since her first appearance, with nothing changing. But I liked her and her actress. She is nice. Like Leah, she deserved better.


7. Buffy Summers ('Buffy the Vampire Slayer')

It is my belief that Buffy is one of, if not the most, Woobie protagonists ever created. You'd think her writers must have hated her, judging by how she suffered so extensively throughout the seven seasons of her own show. Xander Harris is not the self-proclaimed Butt Monkey of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. Buffy is. Her fanbase generally finds her to be the least interesting character of the bunch or "Scooby gang", but I like her the most out of everyone (though Tara Maclay comes close), simply because I feel so damn sorry for her. Why would anyone want to be like her? Her life sucks - pun intended. I know putting your characters through hell is a good way to develop them, to make them stronger, and happy people make for boring television, as Joss Whedon says. But with Buffy Summers, her "development" is nothing short of sadistic, almost misogynistic. She doesn't grow stronger as a result, only more Charlie Brown-ish. Buffy is a teenager forced into a deadly destiny against her will. She has depression and PTSD, none of which she is treated for, because therapy is ineffectual in TV land, so that must mean it is ineffectual in real life too, kids *sarcasm*. Twice she is almost raped, twice she gets kicked out of her own house by a family member, twice she is brought back from the dead. She finds her mother's dead body at home after a good day's work. Yet hardly anybody is sympathetic and supportive towards her, not even the people who call themselves her friends and parental figures. This is bizarre since friendship and family are supposedly the major themes of 'Buffy'. Really, it's a miracle Buffy never attempts suicide, and not to save the world for the billionth time. The so-called "strong female character" - something Joss Whedon also loves to say - is a miserable wreck who never catches a break no matter how many times she saves lives, and asks for absolutely nothing in return. If she can't ever be allowed happiness or a catharsis, then why should we bother following her? Buffy isn't a Mary Sue - she is hated too much by the writers and the other characters for that claim - but it is her continuing suffering that makes me want to give her a hug, not her "strong female" iconography. Rather than being strong, Buffy is just pathetic - with everything she's been through, how can you not pity her instead of looking up to her?


6. Captain Kathryn Janeway ('Star Trek: Voyager')

Speaking of hating women for being strong and just trying to do their job, 'Star Trek''s first female starship captain is of course considered controversial. I'm not a Trekkie, but nonetheless since childhood I've always found Janeway to be tough yet warm and kind when she needs to be. She stands up to bullies, and never lets anyone get in the way of her plans and moral code. She must make difficult decisions instantly every day, and she never breaks down, never avoids her responsibilities. She is assertive; always set on doing the right thing. Janeway is unstoppable. I call her Voyager's mother figure in the most positive light - disciplinary and also fair, and caring fiercely about the safety of her entire crew. Nobody's perfect. No captain of a starship can be perfect, especially one whose crew is lost in the deep nothingness of space, and is desperately trying for years to get back home. Janeway needs to be hard-headed for her job. Her flaws come from 'Voyager' being far from masterfully-written for the most part - it is extremely episodic, with slow character development given only to the white humans - but that's not her fault. Oh she got her crew stranded in the first place whilst saving an alien race. Captain Kirk is a violent, chauvinistic, reckless, male power fantasy, author-self-insert egomaniac (I'm sure I'm not getting him confused with William Shatner, here), who has gotten more people killed than she has. Yeah, clearly Janeway is the worst 'Star Trek' captain ever. Seeing a woman as a leader in a military and explorer service in a franchise that boasts about equality in a utopian future, it is a huge step-up. Kathryn Janeway, who loves 19th century romance novels and aesthetics as much as Captain Picard, was the best we could have asked for in the nineties, really. 'Star Trek: Discovery', please, you cannot afford to let anyone down, Trekkie or not.


5. Lauren Shiba ('Power Rangers Samurai')

A girl can't get any appreciation or respect, especially when she takes the place of a man. Of course it will only be temporary. Lauren Shiba is the 'Power Rangers' franchise's first female red ranger (one who isn't evil, anyway), and boy did 'Samurai' drop the ball on her big time. She is a kind, loving, cautious young woman who has been trained all her life to perfect a monster-destroying technique that requires complete concentration, and flawless balance of the mind, body and spirit. Yet from her first appearance much later on in 'Samurai' (or 'Super Samurai'), she comes across as a Woobie wanting a chance to make friends and live a normal life. But do the other rangers give her that chance? Hell no. They'd rather her younger brother Jayden remain the red ranger leader, because he was around from the start, when he was just supposed to be a decoy until she was ready to be a ranger. Lauren could have been their friend as well - the sheltered hermit is certainly nice enough - but for the crime of not being Jayden, she is shafted, barely given any time to be badass as a ranger. Spoilers - her lifetime's hard work doesn't pay off, and even then she receives no love from the rangers. She is like Buffy in the unappreciated department. What a waste of a girl red ranger leader - even her actress is exceptionally good for 'Power Rangers'. No wonder fans seem to like her arguably more than the rest of the cast. Give females a break, male writers, and let them be heroes in their own right, not overshadowed by Gary Stu male leads.


4. Billie Jenkins ('Charmed')

A young and blonde witch introduced out of nowhere in the eight season of 'Charmed', for the purpose of keeping things fresh (yeah, far too late for that), and for another spin-off opportunity. Billie Jenkins was loathed practically instantly by all 'Charmed' fans across the board. They said she's a Mary Sue who waltzes her way into the Charmed Ones' lives and house with no effort (even Paige, in her first appearance, had to gain the sisters' trust for a few episodes before moving in, and she is family), and is so powerful that it is impossible not to think where she's been all this time (but it's 'Charmed'; longtime viewers should have gotten used to continuity plot craters by then). The show started focusing on Billie too much in episodes with plots repeated from previous seasons. While these things are true, I put Billie on this list because, well, she is a genuine breath of fresh air in a show that had long past its sell-by-date and had gotten so repetitive. She takes the focus away from the Charmed Halliwell sisters - hey, that's a good thing! Piper, Phoebe and Paige had long since been dead to me by the final season I thought would never come. Billie has a likeable personality and wants to help people no matter what. She works hard to defeat demons and save lives. What do the Charmed Ones do? Nothing. Piper is a bigoted sociopath who embodies a large number of nagging housewife stereotypes. Phoebe is a narcissistic, self-absorbed, self-obsessed woman-child who does whatever she can to NOT help people and save the world from demons, and yet everybody loves her like she's Mother Teresa because her actress is a producer on the show. And Paige, starting out with promise, eventually falls under the spell of the lazy, selfish Halliwell sisters, who couldn't give a shit unless her own life depends on it. And yet Billie is the most hated character? Really, her inclusion is essential - somebody has to do something in this show! It's true that her character isn't original, or that compelling, but compared to the three protagonists whom we are supposed to care for, she is badass. If anything, she is one of the positive things about 'Charmed' season eight. And what is the fate of this "Mary Sue"? Her whole family is killed and she is given no screen time to grieve before being placed as the Halliwell children's babysitter. The Charmed witches are the real monsters, not the literal demons of the series. Billie Jenkins - poor girl, she shouldn't need to exist at all, but she did. She was in the wrong show at the wrong time.


3. Lola Bunny ('Space Jam')

I love 'Space Jam'. It is one of my favourite nostalgic movies, and it is still awesome without the nostalgia goggles. One of the things that people who weren't little kids in the nineties hate about this film is the creation of Lola Bunny. Lola doesn't just exist as a love interest for Bugs Bunny or for eye candy to me - she is a cool, expert basketball player. And honestly, how many female Looney Tunes can you name? Did I look up to Granny growing up? I never even knew Witch Hazel existed until I was an adult. No, Lola was all I had for a girl Looney Tune. She has the Smurfette Principle written all over her, but somehow I still adore her. She's not THAT much of a "strong female" with little personality who gets damseled in the third act as is customary in movies written by men. Like I said, she's cool, and clearly confident in her sexuality. Not as funny as the other Looney Tunes? Well, I think that any try-too-hard attempt to make a girl funny by a writing team nervous about "how" they could make a girl funny - as if gender is an issue - would have come off as desperate, and far less funny and fun than what we got. I only saw a little of the new 'The Looney Tunes Show', where Lola is rebooted into Bugs Bunny's obsessive stalker, and that is an example of what I mean by comedy writers being desperate, by resorting to negative gender cliches. But this is all just my personal opinion, and people can like whichever version of Lola Bunny they want. I like the Lola I grew up with, showing that girls can be awesome sports players without having to give it all up for a guy.


2. Meg Griffin ('Family Guy')

Meg. Fucking. Griffin. The penultimate product of lazy male "comedy" writers who made her a Butt Monkey. Meg is abused and shat on left and right whenever anyone bothers to even remember she exists and put her in a scene, because the writers actually didn't know how to write teenage girls. Well, hiring female writers might have helped, but given 'Family Guy''s rampant misogyny onscreen, it's not an unreasonable leap to come to the conclusion that the behind-the-scenes production team has serious issues with women as well. I hate 'Family Guy' with every fibre of my core, and that it is still going - despite even the showrunners admitting that it should have ended a long time ago - proves just how sad a state mainstream entertainment is in right now. It represents everything wrong with low-brow comedy and their non-jokes, substituting lazy, effortless shock value, dated stereotypes, and mean-spirited shit-thrown-at-the-walls, for real humour. But anyway, back to Meg Griffin, easily the most likeable and relatable character in 'Family Guy'; the only one not a sociopath. So naturally everybody in-show hates her. The writers give no reason for why she is constantly abused (played for laughs, because they have no idea how the real world is), other than...she is apparently ugly by 'Family Guy''s standards. Because the men who run this series are sexist, perverted fratboys who prefer women to be supermodel hot (including in cartoons!), and they see nothing wrong with targeting a teenage girl for her looks. As someone who has short brown hair and as a teen was also sensitive and self-conscious about her face and appearance like Meg, the violence against her continues to horrify me. Teenage girls face constant judgement over their looks by a patriarchal society everywhere; their self-esteem is forcibly lowered all the time by images of conventionally attractive, airbrushed women, and of "fat, ugly" girls getting punished for not living up to shallow men's standard of feminine beauty. 'Family Guy''s Meg Griffin embodies the cartoon's attitude towards women to a T - boys would rather kill themselves and their families than go out with her, a Facebook page is set up encouraging her to go kill herself because she's ugly, and she has to stay with her abusive family because she serves as a "lightning rod" for their dysfunction. She is only seen as a "hero" for enduring domestic abuse for the benefit of her abusers. This isn't funny. Teenage girls have self-harmed and committed suicide over issues such as these - not as exaggerated, of course, but they tie in to real life dangers and insecurities affecting girls in this day and age of superficiality and not giving a shit about the needs of women. 'Family Guy', go fuck yourself. The dark horse Meg deserves her own spin-off series without the monstrous Griffins, or Seth MacFarlane, with women writers doing her justice. Because women are funny, without being objectified; stop pretending otherwise like it's a fact.


Phew! Now, finally we reach my number one Hated Female Character in fiction, in-franchise or out. Who could be worse than Meg Griffin? Well, here she is...





1. Susan Pevensie ('The Chronicles of Narnia' series)

Google "the problem of Susan", and the issue speaks for itself. Susan Pevensie is perhaps one of the earliest examples of a female character that is hated by her own creator. In 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe', she is regulated to the mother role of the Pevensie siblings. She is mature, sensible, worries about matters such as food and clothing, and avoids violence whenever possible. And yet, C. S. Lewis, and by extension his other characters, see her as a nuisance, a nag, a damper on the fun of male-led adventures. For living grounded in reality, and for possessing basic common sense and survival instincts, she is reduced to just "being a girl", for voicing logical concerns. Every negative female stereotype imaginable is thrust on Susan in every 'Narnia' book she appears: She never fights in battles or uses a weapon, even when she is given one; she is vain and conceited for liking nice clothes; she is shallow and silly for disbelieving in magic and magical creatures; and she is overly emotional in life-and-death situations. All part of "being a girl". She also exists as a comforter for her siblings, never mind her own emotional and mental needs. In 'The Horse and His Boy' - where she is a queen of Narnia! - there is the real danger of her being kidnapped and held captive by a warring land, and being forced into marriage. She could get raped. But there is still no sympathy for her. It's apparently her own fault for being a stubborn, vapid woman. If only she'd just accept marriage! Susan represents the product of her time when adult women were - and to a tragic extent, still are - considered to be evil temptresses taking up too much space, while her sister Lucy always was a little girl in Lewis's view, and so her innocence is kept intact. Therefore forever-young Lucy is more human and worthy of good things than Susan. Madonna, meet Whore; the only complexity and difference between you two is how the patriarchy perceives you as human beings. But the biggest misogynistic kick to the vagina happens in 'The Last Battle', where - spoilers - it is revealed that every character is dead and Narnia is Heaven. But Susan isn't there, because she grew up and stopped believing in Narnia and started wearing lipstick, so she does not deserve to go to Heaven. So, her siblings, who she lovingly protected for about five books, are dead. But no time whatsoever is given to her point of view; to her undoubted grief. Her role is diminished so severely that she becomes an afterthought. Susan, one of the heroes and matriarchs of Narnia, is shafted out of Narnia, out of Paradise, because she became an adult woman in earth time. And this is a happy ending! What a crock. What double standard, medieval misogyny. Not once does Susan catch a break, or is cared for by anyone, not even her own family. It seems that to Lewis, Susan was merely a woman, a Lilith, an Eve bringing evil into the world, so she must be punished, or ignored. Heck, the White Queen cares about power and being in charge - no different from every male leader in 'Narnia' - and yet she is a villain. Susan Pevensie is a Woobie and fan favourite dark horse character, and not just by feminists. Even non-feminists can see how unfairly she is treated in these books. If there is one positive thing to take away from her character and her "problem", it is as a cautionary tale; a lesson for male writers on how not to write the female gender. Treat them with respect, major or minor.





There you have it, another list of mine. Hope you've enjoyed it, and perhaps learned something from it. Take care :)

Graphic Novel Review - 'Raven (Teen Titans, Volume V)' by Marv Wolfman (Writer), Alisson Borges (Artist), Diogenes Neves (Artist), Ruy José (Artist)

When I first heard about one of the female Teen Titans, Raven, receiving her own solo comic book series, I thought it could be fun at least, reminiscent of Starfire's solo run by Amanda Conner, only instead of a beach, it is set in a high school. The antics and day-to-day troubles of that cliched scenario, mixed in with superheroics, is an extremely common but popular concept with hundreds of tones and directions to take it. You can tell any story in a school - a gateway into adulthood - as it fits into the theme of coming-of-age adolescence.

What I did not expect was 'Raven' to be one of the darkest, most intense comics I've ever read, that fully embraces its supernatural elements. High school barely factors into it.

Raven is a half-demon, gothic empath and telepath. She's the daughter of one of DC's versions of the Devil, Trigon, and of a human mother, Arella (or Angela). This dark horse outcast, who is somehow still a young teenager after years of superhero adventures, departs from the Teen Titans in the wake of a tragedy. For a go at being normal - and, presumably, to be kept sane and not tempted to be evil again - she arrives in San Francisco and stays with her mother's sister's family, who are Christian; going against her own origin and upbringing in the world of Azara, worshiping a god called Azar.

Raven, now going by the ordinary human civilian identity, Rachel Roth, tries to integrate into her new, mundane environment by not standing out and drawing attention to herself, in order to keep Trigon and her demonic brothers off track - they wish to force her towards a path and birthright to becoming a world destroyer. With her über goth girl look and shy, creepy demeanour, you'd think Raven attempting to be "normal" wouldn't go well, much less help her be invisible. But surprisingly, people like her fine, and she appears to make friends easily in high school.

But the blurb lies. School is not what this comic is about. It is about Raven spending the whole volume working out how to save San Francisco from an alien light "thing" that absorbs young people into its hell, for their complex and unstable emotions. She is an empath who has been trained all her life to control her own emotions, or else her father will take her over and bring darkness and destruction to the universe. Her foe in her solo comic isn't Trigon, as it turns out, but a celestial extraterrestrial that grows bigger and stronger through emotions, mainly fear. Raven's ability to take away people's pain while repressing her own is put to the test. If she fails, she could be absorbed into the light of unending suffering along with the other teenagers, but to win might mean having to give in to her dark side, that is strong enough to defeat the madness.

The story is a disturbing metaphor for depression and how it can control people. It can make life a continuous hell, and make everything seem like the end of the world.

In 'Raven', written by someone who created her, wrote her for the longest time, and who knows her best, Marv Wolfman, Raven battles against other people's depression and family distress as well as her own. Badly. She tries to help others deal with emotional turmoil and grief, for this not-so-mysterious demon child is still an empath, and a good person. A teleporting magician possessing a "soul-self", she is like a teenage girl version of Marvel's Doctor Strange. Her goth outcast character, taken to supernatural extremes, remains her greatest appeal to fans, even to this day when the word "emo" is a dead and dated term. She is still awesome.

The only real problem with the comic is Raven's relationships with everyone in her new life. With the exception of her aunt Alice, all her interactions with other characters are too short, arbitrary, and they contain no depth. She once mentions in narration that she had used her empathic powers to make her fellow school students like her quickly, which explains the shallowness of that development. Raven has no real connection to these one-note plot devices, and yet she apparently harbours such a strong bond with them that she thinks she must protect them once the threat of the "thing" is apparent. They are her friends, her anchor, her human half, because...the plot says so. We don't even see her in school much, in comparison to her external and internal battles with the "thing"; which for a superhero story is fine, but for something that is supposed to show how human she can be, it is a lot of telling instead of showing. There is hardly a mention of her time with the Teen Titans - the Beast Boy cameo at the end notwithstanding - which is a good thing for Raven's individual run. If she had compared the school pals she never properly interacts with to the Titans, it would have been the ultimate insult.

At least her aunt is well-developed and has more than one scene with Raven, leading to a great climax that reflects both of their faiths. Love and family come together to stop a deep depression.

'Raven' is a horror story, a brilliant exploding one. The standard art for current DC superhero comics manages to fit with the twisted, macabre tone. We learn more about Raven and the nature of her powers, and we see her as a superhero, a witch, a teen girl with domestic problems, and a demon. She fights and struggles with who she is, and who she wants to be. She is a dark and cool anti-heroine, more sensitive than she lets on.

Really, this is the perfect story for a character like Raven, just like how Starfire's light-hearted, sunny solo comic is perfect for her. Any Raven fan should check 'Raven' out.

Final Score: 3.5/5

Graphic Novel Review - 'Catwoman: When in Rome' by Jeph Loeb (Writer), Tim Sale (Artist)

Seems I've finally found a 'Catwoman' comic that I like.

Catwoman as a character never caught my interest, even though I love cats, superheroines and anti-heroines. Maybe it's because she is overtly sexualized in pretty much every incarnation of her, as is to be expected of any "heroine" designed to appeal to the straight male demographic, which the patriarchy has made the default in mainstream entertainment. By the concept of Catwoman alone she is so easy to fetishize and cater to this niche, limited audience. I really like the versions of her played in film by Michelle Pfieffer and Anne Hathaway, but that's it. In comics and cartoons, male writers and artists have complete control of her character- or lack of - and mostly it's been for the worse. Up until recently I did not want to give Catwoman my time of day. Eventually her popularity confused me enough to want to see and understand what it is about this feline sex toy that appeals to so many people of all genders and preferences. For it can't just be the fanservice. Or the prostitution (thanks, Frank Miller).

'Catwoman: When in Rome' is a uniquely fresh standalone story. It doesn't resort to the lowest common denominator to attract people to it: Jeph Loeb knows that a good story and interesting characters will make a lasting success, no matter who you are writing, and who you are writing for.

'When in Rome' mixes the right amount of action, mystery, comedy, the mafia, sight-seeing, and only a little cheesecake fanservice (i.e. Selina in lingerie, which must be really uncomfortable to sleep in); not enough to distract from the worthy praise.

Selina Kyle/Catwoman leaves Gotham City and travels to Rome. Her reason for being there is deliberately kept in the shadows until near the end of the comic. Other than that the reader is given good glimpses into Selina's thoughts and feelings, which seem authentic to her situation. It is a story about her; her journey of self-discovery. At first it appears like a typical rich woman's foreign adventure log following a midlife crisis. However, there are subversive reasons behind everything. There is a noir twist. Selina is a detective finding out who she is as both a lost woman (a stray, as it were), and a cat burglar addicted to the night. And addicted to Batman.

Batman doesn't physically appear with Catwoman in 'When in Rome', a comic of hers (there's a first!), but she dreams of him and their messed-up, borderline abusive relationship constantly. Again there is a clever reason behind this, and Selina learns not to keep relying on Batman, or on any part of her past, for salvation. 'When in Rome' is ultimately about Catwoman's independence, and her choices.

Even the Riddler is more than meets the eye here. He is with Selina on her trip to Rome, paid to be her partner, and as it turns out he doesn't merely serve as a comic relief side tool who could have been switched out with anyone from Batman's rogues gallery. The banter between the two is surprisingly funny, and deep. 'When in Rome' actually had me interested in a perverted character (seriously, does every man in Gotham want to pet the kittywoman?); that in itself is revolutionary.

Catwoman reminds me of Huntress in this - a dark, sexy anti-heroine mixed up in mafia vendettas who is out soul-searching, and is not afraid of blood being spilled. She takes crap from no one, but isn't necessarily brooding, and she has a sharp, boisterous sense of humour - a real personality is present! This woman is given the chance to be as multifaceted as her fans like to claim she is, and to be kickass: she faces off against the Joker, Mr. Freeze, and Scarecrow. When in Rome indeed!

In Rome, Catwoman is genuinely cool, and a hero. Her gender, her bonds with various male players, should not hinder her. Not even her romance with an assassin called Blondie.

'Catwoman: When in Rome' is so intriguing. Flawed but containing clever twists and elements. The artwork is also lovely. Smooth, too, like any mystery noir. I was actually invested in the mystery, and pleasantly surprised by the revelations, culminating in a satisfying end.

Now if only a real cat was present at all, and Catwoman using her signature whip more.

Final Score: 4/5 

Scribble #49

Creative arts - expressing free will, individuality and practicality. We have imaginations for a reason, without them we wouldn't be where we are today.

Graphic Novel Review - 'Ms. Marvel, Vol. 5: Super Famous' by G. Willow Wilson (Writer), Takeshi Miyazawa (Artist), Adrian Alphona (Artist), Nico Leon (Artist)

Maybe I should read more of 'Ms. Marvel'. Read more about Kamala Khan, as she is written almost beautifully and perfectly by G. Willow Wilson. I said I've boycotted Marvel for their terrible decisions and statements recently, showing no signs of self-awareness in the slightest, but this series may turn out to be one of, if not the best they have released in years. Besides, this was a library copy.

Kamala Khan's 'Ms. Marvel', specifically 'Super Famous,' set after the Marvel obligated tie-in event, 'Secret Wars', has just about everything: It's fun, it's sweet, it's hugely, culturally relevant, it's feminist, it knows what it's talking about in terms of racism and the many horrible ways it works in society, and it makes it all flow together joyfully with the superhero story. You can digest it as smoothly as a classic Saturday morning cartoon.

I love all the characters - Kamala is so adorable, I want to hug her. Anyone can relate to her instantly, no matter your background and heritage. Bruno is her super-tech guy and is hilarious in his own way - how convenient that every superhero happens to have a mad scientist friend! His new girlfriend, after moving on from his feelings for Kamala, unrequited, is Mike, and she is as lovable as everyone else. She's not skinny, is a science wiz like Bruno and a nerd and fangirl like Kamala, and she has two mums! Kamala is reluctant to get to know Mike at first, but they end up becoming friends. While the two teenage girls work together to save their town, they bond, and it is so natural! There is no girl-on-girl hate (heck, no girl-hate in sight) or other jealousy, catfight BS here. Kamala has more in common with other girls than she thought. She can like people and want to hang out with them once she gets to know them - what a great lesson! Oh, Mike - what a great addition to the cast! 

Then there is Kamala's family, which will now include her brother Aamir's fiancee, Tyesha, an African-American Muslim who is also a pop culture geek. Did I mention how wonderfully diverse and likable this comic is? Tyesha is shy and sweet, yet smart, modest and mature; as three-dimensional as Mike and the rest of the cast.

Iron Man, Captain America, and Captain Marvel make cameo appearances - duh, Ms. Marvel is an Avenger now! - and they support her as well as guidance counsellors. They are willing to help whenever she gets into trouble in her home turf, Jersey City (which happens a lot!) Why aren't more heroes allowed to be friendly while remaining in character anymore? Loki cameos too, because why the heck not?

'Super Famous' collects two 'Ms. Marvel' stories post-'Secret Wars' - the first is a fairly typical H.Y.D.R.A. mind control plot that's still a lot of fun with superb character moments, and the second is a cloning episode, funny yet deep without going overboard (Ms. Marvel fights a giant version of herself - why aren't you reading this already!?). Spider-Man really could take pointers from a successor of his! 

Connecting these is the theme of Kamala finding herself. It is about where her priorities lie as she juggles several separate identities, and the responsibilities that come with them: An Avenger; her town's superhero with a public image to protect (it's surprising how people in Jersey City, or anywhere really, have short memories and are ungrateful to a hero who saved their lives hundreds of times in the past, just because of one billboard); a civilian; a friend; a high school girl; and a daughter in a Muslim family, keeping up with tradition. 

It is so much for a teenager to handle. But Kamala, throughout her struggles, no matter how huge (literally and figuratively), never gives up, and never loses her high spirit. She knows when to receive help when needed. She realizes what she misses from home and her civilian friends while she is out beating bad guys as Ms. Marvel. 

In essence, this comic is about growing up; a youthful coming-of-age event. It is poignant and touching for something otherwise so endearingly playful and cute.

Even though I've lost hope for Marvel itself, I have hope for Kamala Khan in the future. Hope that she doesn't lose her way and the reasons for why she is beloved today (I can't imagine Marvel doing anything worse than turning Captain America into a Nazi and Captain Marvel into a narrow-minded, angry dictator (to be undone in 'The Mighty Captain Marvel', I pray)). Don't intentionally destroy the best character you've introduced for diversity in forever, Marvel! It's the one thing you seem to be doing right lately.

Just... have fun. Let your fans have fun. KNOW who your fans are, and listen to them. Be subtly educational, ethical, and human. Don't be afraid to make a likable product. 'Ms. Marvel, Vol. 5: Super Famous' is proof you know how to do this.

Final Score: 4/5

A Feminist Essay

Growing Up Under the Smurfette Principle - Part 1


Growing Up Under the Smurfette Principle - Part 2


Growing Up Under the Smurfette Principle - Part 3

Growing Up Under the Smurfette Principle - Part 3

After taking a look at the past and my viewing experiences growing up and in my adult years, is there still a place for the Smurfette Principle? Have we finally moved passed this false, backwards trope? To varying degrees, yes. But when it comes to mainstream TV and film media and female speaking roles – not to mention roles for women behind the camera – there is a long way to go.

Is there any hope for the future?

There certainly appears to be; more so than a few years ago. Superhero movies have been the number one blockbuster money grabs for over a decade now, but it is in 2017 that the world shall finally see a Wonder Woman theatrical-released film, the first live-action female-led superhero picture since Electra (2005). Shame that Wonder Woman had to be in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016) in order for this to happen. I will go to see Wonder Woman when it comes out, even if it is terrible (which is sadly likely, in the wake of DC’s line of disastrous comic book movie adaptations in 2016 – Suicide Squad and Batman: The Killing Joke), because superhero films with female leads absolutely need to be supported. Sexist, male-run studios and producers need a wake-up call the size of several multiverses for them to stop seeing lady parts as a “risk”. In the past they have weakly justified this by sighting the bombs Supergirl (1984), Catwoman (2004), and Electra (all spinoffs from films starring male superheroes), refusing to own up to the responsibility that it is their own failings, not the audiences, that caused these films to turn out so badly. No mention is made of the dozens of male-led superhero flops, i.e. Batman and Robin (1997) and Green Lantern (2011), because double standards.

Gender should not be a reason not to tell a story. Girls love action as much as boys do, but they keep being excluded from this genre because supposedly it “isn’t for girls”, or some nonsense about women not liking conflict. They only watch romances and chick flicks, as if those contain no conflict, and are inferior films (never mind how much money they make at the box office) because they are marketed to appeal to the female gender. Audiences of all genders (and races) do want to see change; they do want to see variety. Mostly they want to be entertained and have fun watching a superhero flick, with character insights and development, and breaking boundaries in storytelling in the superhero genre. Make something new!

As well as Wonder Woman, a Captain Marvel movie is set to be released in 2019 (hopefully no more delays, and I’m not certain Carol Danvers won’t have already been in a previous Marvel movie with male leads). A Harley Quinn solo flick has been changed into a Gotham City Sirens comic book adaptation. Cool – not one but three superwomen leading their own movie; there is progress. However I am not holding my breath over this, due to the not-yet-confirmed rumour that Megan Fox might be cast as Poison Ivy, which screams desperation on the studio’s part to attract a male audience by place holding an actress whose career comes right down to male-titillation typecasting. Why not just get the best person for the part? Write female characters better? Sex doesn’t sell; sexism does, though judging by the female-led super-horrors of the past, even that is not confirmed to be true.

And then there is Joss Whedon writing and directing a Batgirl movie. I’ve talked about my thoughts on this news before, but I’ll reiterate: We still have an awful long way to go to hiring more women to help make these films better, and if my feelings on Buffy the Vampire Slayer have not been clear enough, I don’t entirely trust Joss Whedon. His two Avengers blockbuster hits adhere to the Smurfette Principle, with the tight-skinned leather-suited Black Widow as the token female hero in the Avengers and in marketing (but is rarely seen there – #WhereisBlackWidow, anyone?). She and the Scarlett Witch, powerful as we are made to believe they are, still rely heavily on the men in their lives, which is another common Whedon trait. He tries, but he just needs to recognize his own privilege, double standards, and how he treats women, both on screen and off: How he treated Charisma Carpenter when she was pregnant in the Buffy spinoff Angel is disgusting and unforgivable.

Girls kicking butt and given a snarky edge are not enough to make them “strong female characters”; there are nonetheless written to be less-threatening damsels to cater to insecure male viewers. Meanwhile strongly-written male characters are continuously spotlighted and often praised by the same fandom for being well-rounded and relatable with no strings attached. Personality types encouraged in men – assertiveness, orderliness, stubbornness, pursuing whatever the hell they want, brave leadership skills – are seen as bitchy and mean in women. Just being a woman – portrayed as weak and helpless – is considered a flaw needing to be eradicated – by men and for men; not for the woman herself and what she wants. You would think that Whedon would have grown out of that 1990s “strong female character” standard by now.

“At least he isn’t Zack Snyder” is not a comfort or an excuse, period. As I have said throughout this piece, we can always do better, if we try.

And by try, I mean really, seriously try. Making the effort to enact change, for diverse representation, is everything. I am happy that at least someone is making a Batgirl feature film happen, and the future is uncertain; Joss Whedon could turn out to impress me yet. Nowadays my standards are high, however: We cannot afford to make baby steps anymore – the baby has to grow up eventually.

In conclusion, I think that medium executives and head writers, producers and directors simply need to be aware of their influence and privilege, and of sexist tropes such as the Smurfette Principle in order to take conscious steps to avoid/subvert them. Entertainment should be a top priority, of course, but why can’t a woman leading a story and a fight be entertaining? Who says otherwise, and why? Keep asking yourselves why we still fall back on the same old, default-white-male status quo, and realize the difference between reasons and excuses. Film and TV are all about taking risks, and in the 2010s more and more people are demanding diversity than ever before. Times and tastes change, and a lot of fans are tired of seeing the hetero white male hero’s journey over and over again. They are aware of racist Hollywood and whitewashing, as well. Talks of privilege are making headway into the mainstream public consciousness.

Most of all, what I am asking from the storytellers in charge of our entertainment is this: Listen. Pay attention to who you are catering to, and to what kind of a society we are all living in. Listen to your fans, who are the reason for your success, and listen to women, and to everyone who isn’t white or male or cisgender.

I will leave with a message of hope for any woman and girl who might be reading this. I know we are living in a scary world right now – a world that hates you so much that it would rather have an anti-intellectual, compulsively-lying, narcissistic, sociopathic, misogynistic, white supremacist, and KKK-and-Nazi-endorsed sex offender to be the President of the United States instead of a competent and experienced woman. But if the past couple of years have taught us one thing, it is that we cannot afford to take anything for granted anymore. Progress means nothing if we are not committed to it, and as we have seen it can regress faster than we could have anticipated, at a terrifying rate.

But every single woman on earth, I say to you: Don’t give up. Don’t let the demons of toxic misogyny win; our lives depend on it. And I am a firm believer in representation matters – in the films and shows we see and the books we read, enjoyed not just as entertainment but as a mirror to see ourselves in, and how the world at large sees us, and wish to see us. If fiction didn’t have an effect on real life, then policies such as book banning wouldn’t exist. If we can see ourselves represented in the stories and characters we love – represented as we are: people, human beings – it can make a difference, even a cultural one. Look at the success of the recent Ms. Marvel comic series, starring a Muslim Pakistani-American teenage girl as its lead superhero, for proof of this.

So a happy hope and activism to you. Girl Power is a power, not to be underestimated or overlooked, as long as it is used to help others, not hurt them. Sailor Moon, The Powerpuff Girls, Bob’s Burgers, The Legend of Korra, Steven Universe, Supergirl, and series like them, they inspire hope for a societal change for the better, debatably more so than the eighties and nineties reboot titles popping up everywhere (do we really need another Scooby Doo revival?). Being “different” is a strength, not a hindrance, not an inconvenience. Femininity is a strength, and so is compassion, which are not weaknesses. They are not diseases.

Keep up, never give up, and maybe, one day, we can put the final nail in the coffin of the Smurfette Principle and other common sexist tropes once and for all. I am not exaggerating when I say that fiction could be the key to global progress.

Because remember: You matter. You have always mattered, no matter what anyone or anything you see leads you to think about the world. “It’s just how it is” is an excuse, not a reason.

Remember: You are a hero.

Growing Up Under the Smurfette Principle - Part 2

I shall look into my experiences watching shows which their predominately-male creators would call “feminist”, and examine the shortcomings I have come to notice about them since my younger years.

First, I will talk about the universally beloved, pinnacle of feminist entertainment, pop culture Joss Whedon classic, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003).

Now, I will praise Buffy for being well-written and progressive... for its time. Take the nostalgia goggles off and many might come to notice various problems in regards to its “feminist” leanings. These include: the scary, entitled Nice Guy who is never called out for his manipulations and his passive-aggressive, misogynistic microaggressions, Xander Harris (aka one of my most hated characters in all of fiction); the normalization of abusive behaviour (seriously, Buffy has the worst friends ever); the absurd amount of race fail (that Robin Wood’s literal contribution to the final season is not dying isn’t something to celebrate); the bisexual erasure (unless one is a soulless vampire); the fat erasure (Willow Rosenberg was originally played by Riff Regan in the unaired pilot); the overuse of metaphors for how life sucks (pun intended) at the expense of context and character growth; the disturbing number of female character deaths in contrast to male (not counting the villains); the blatant Madonna/Whore dichotomy between Buffy and Faith; the black holes of sympathy and usefulness that are Anya Jenkins and Dawn Summers; Buffy always seeming to need the approval and counselling of the men in her life; leading me to mention the chauvinistic, emasculated scum Riley Finn, who is, again, never called out on his behaviour and backwards worldviews (and I am still not convinced he is not a robot, he is so bland); and the rape-and-abuse-apologist outlook in the last two seasons (the Buffy/Spike catastrophe, anyone?).

Buffy is a good show with plenty to recommend it, but to call it one of, if not the greatest feminist television programme of all time, is telling of how low a standard we have for representation of women in the media. Hell, the only time the word “feminist” is even mentioned in Buffy is as a throwaway joke – “hairy-legged feminists” says Xander in the season three prom episode, big surprise – reinforcing dated stereotypes. It is not enough to say it is good to women because it subverts the Smurfette Principle and (just barely) passes the Bechdel Test, when the heroine is constantly seen suffering, where one human mistake means instant abandonment by her ungrateful friends and family, forcing her into taking refuge in the love and support of men, even those who are abusive to her. This gives the unintended message to impressionable, insecure and depression-prone teenage girls watching that no matter what they do and achieve in life, they will end up alone, unappreciated and undervalued, and only the presence of a man, who has your best interests at heart regardless of how he actually treats you, can fill in that emptiness and fruitlessness of living.

Joss Whedon, who is every geek’s hero and the man widely beloved for being a feminist whilst women who call themselves that are ridiculed and scorned, is not immune to society’s double standards; expectations and ideas about gender roles, deeply ingrained in all of us since infancy, make them that much harder to recognise and combat.

I’d argue that Buffy the Vampire Slayer has done more harm than good for feminist television – like the Whedon idea that a girl who knows martial arts and quips one-liners automatically makes her feminist, while the smarter male gender still takes charge of her life – and its influences, both obvious and subtle, are felt almost everywhere. I suppose one of the reasons it was so well received is because there wasn’t anything like it at around 1997 onwards, and that is where the common excuse, “There wasn’t anything better on at the time”, comes in.

During my childhood years of seeking solace in Girl Power on TV, I have been guilty of the same “Nothing better on then” mindset as well. Which brings me to my first guilty displeasure, the Fox Kids cartoon, Totally Spies! (2001-2007, 2013-2015).

Totally Spies! is sort of like a proto-Kim Possible, only starring three girl protagonists, Sam, Clover and Alex, all skinny and pretty. And only full of pandering, shameful gender stereotyping, non-existent character development, and lazy, predictable writing safe for children. It is Charlie’s Angels for middle schoolers. It was one of the first anime-influenced animations to air on European and North American television, and it does it pretty badly, and practically every single episode follows the same formula. But hey it’s feminist because it stars three girl protagonists who kick butt and solve mysteries that even a toddler could figure out. Even if was intended to be a spy and/or exploitation film parody or homage, it is never as self-aware as it desperately needs to be. It’s sexist, it’s stupid, and it tries too hard to be hip and current; it has not aged well. I knew all this even when I was a kid, yet I watched it religiously, because there was a shortage of girl power at that time, and my standards were not nearly as high as they are now. Questioning tastes aside, every episode was a guilty pleasure for me then.

There is only one episode of Totally Spies! that I legitimately hate, and it is called “W.O.W. (Women of Wrestling)” from season two. Basically it is about a tribe of women, dating back to a vague ancient time period, called “the Sisterhood”, whose goal is to kill all the men of the world and “weak females”. These women resemble butch lesbian stereotypes, and they dress in gladiator battle armour. They use magical mind control powers to “awaken” the decedents of the Sisterhood of the past, turning them into violent, man-hating savages. The decedents are stereotypically non-feminine girls and women who like things such as sports, wrestling, science and technology, and anything where they can be considered leaders and be taken seriously in male-dominated fields. See the problem already? Even setting aside all the plot holes (how can the Sisterhood have children if they want to kill all men? Are they rapists too? And why are some Sisters immortal and others not?). It doesn’t matter if the writers did not intend for it, the implication is still there: That strong, independent women who are into non-conventional girly activities – as a hobby or career – or who are feminist in any way, are secretly man-hating monsters who wish to murder all of penis kind. Meanwhile women who are girly and therefore “weak” – who like pink and are frightened easily by confrontation – are the “good” females, because they are simple for men to deal with. They are subservient, and most likely will never stand up for themselves or be difficult by not conforming to traditional gender roles. Feminist women should be feared and oppressed at any cost, or it is anarchy, even the end of the human race. Millions of kids watched Totally Spies! on Fox Kids, including this episode, so it is grossly irresponsible that something like this wasn’t considered a terrible message, and was allowed to ever air.

It is really bad for women’s representation. It isn’t limited to children’s programming either. We now come to my second teenhood guilty displeasure, Charmed (1998-2006).

Charmed also stars three females – who are, say it with me now, skinny and/or attractively curvy – kicking butt and saving the world on a regular basis. They are witches too, which appealed to me greatly. But for its witchcraft and Wiccan influences and semi-positive portrayal of sisterhood, it is clear that Charmed only existed to ride the successful coattails of Buffy and possibly Sabrina the Teenage Witch; it even plagiarized certain storylines from Buffy, such as the heroic human/vampire/demon forbidden love ending in tragedy.

Charmed only got worse and worse as its inexplicable eight seasons went on with seemingly no end in sight, ripping off better fantasy franchises (Harry Potter, too – there is suddenly an unnamed “Magic School” in season six which has apparently been around for as long as Atlantis has), with so many tonal changes that it doesn’t know if it wants to be Sex and the City with supernatural elements thrown in, or a lighter Buffy with no direction in its writing.

Oh, and Charmed is one of the most sexist TV shows to ever air in the 21st century. The three witch sisters, Piper, Phoebe and Paige (replacing Prue, who is killed off at the end of season three allegedly because Shannen Doherty was difficult to work with) – the Charmed Ones, the most powerful magicians ever – are mostly useless and frustratingly self-absorbed, with character development being reserved for male leads such as Leo Wyatt, the Charmed Ones’ whitelighter or “guardian angel”, and Piper’s beau. The sisters’ lives revolve entirely around men, and they talk about men constantly. There was an almost compulsive need for the writers to pair each of them up with a man, any man, with babies expecting to come of it, as much as the male producers had a compulsion to put these female protagonists in fanservice clothing in every episode post-season four. This show is set in a universe where literally every myth and fairy tale and fantasy creature is true, but heteronormalcy reigns supreme.

Amid the bad, sexist writing, there is one particular episode which stands above all the others, and that is the infamous “Once in a Blue Moon”. In season seven – in my opinion the worst, messiest season, and that is saying a lot – it is revealed that the Charmed Ones are werewolves. Not witches cursed to become werewolves, but who naturally transform whenever there is a blue moon. And they are not just any werewolves. They are... I cannot believe I’m about to type this... PMS werewolves. Throughout the episode the sisters are irritable because they’re all on their period, and by the power of a blue moon they turn into horribly-rendered CGI wolves at night, attacking whoever pissed them off that day. There’s more! After this big revelation, it is never mentioned again in subsequent episodes. Even for Charmed, where continuity goes to die on holiday, this is a whole new below-the-barrel, negative level of incompetence. It is a special kind of bad, like discovering a new species of bad. My brain still can’t grasp how this episode got made; not even the most obscure fanfiction in the deepest, darkest lost corner of the internet would have anything this terrible. Somebody got paid to write this. Somebody gave it the greenlight. People actually thought it okay to spend thousands of dollars to make this, and have their names attached to it. All for a one-off joke about women on their time of the month.

“Once in a Blue Moon” represents every flaw of Charmed: the misogyny (internalized or otherwise; it was written by two women, Debra J. Fisher & Erica Messer!), the complete lack of care for story and the characters, and for continuity. Bad special effects were the least of the episode’s problems. Its forty-minute runtime might as well have had nothing but a letter displayed to the audience, saying, “We give up”, signed by everyone on the production team; it would have been less offensive than what we got.

A CW Charmed reboot is apparently going to happen, as if this corpse of a franchise hasn’t been reanimated enough. I can only hope that it doesn’t make PMS werewolves canon.

If you had any doubt about the low standards we generally hold for female representation in television, look no further than Charmed. Like Totally Spies! and to an extent Buffy, I really only watched it in my youth because “There was nothing better on at the time”, and that isn’t a vote of confidence. This kind of attitude hurts feminism in every medium, and halts progression. We can do better.

Other live-action “feminist” shows I’ve only recently come across are Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001) and Veronica Mars (2004-2007). Each has its strengths and problems when subverting gender stereotypes – unlike Totally Spies! and Charmed, they at least seem to be making an effort. The four shows aired around the same time, the late-nineties-to-mid 2000s. But I have to point out the problematic elements of the “better” cult classics, as the first step towards progress is improving on the flaws of the past.

Xena, in its six seasons, has quite a great number of strong, complex female characters, but it uses the dreadful, inherently misogynistic Mystical Pregnancy trope twice, and similar to Buffy it reinforces a rape-and-abuse apologist agenda in the form of the “bad boy”, Ares. In spite of this, however, Xena’s strengths are in its campy fun and action – something that girls do love as much as boys, no matter what executives tell everyone – and I have a soft spot for it.

Veronica Mars, on the other hand, I have grown to dislike the more I think about it. Its Buffy influence definitely shows despite not belonging to the supernatural genre. It rears its ugly head in terms of racial stereotyping and tokenism in Wallace and Weevil (the blonde white title character is the hero at the expense of these poor sidekicks), the “strong, independent female lead” is still saved by men (who take up about 75% of the main cast) in episode climaxes, the normalization of abuse is present to the point where nearly every character could be considered a sociopath, and the rape of the female protagonist, which occurs before the events of first episode, is just a plot device to go with the other mysteries of the series. Any psychological trauma Veronica suffers is barely given any screen time, if at all. It doesn’t really affect her life in any way. And the reveal of who date-raped her is retconned at the end of season two, purely for shock value and for added weight on how evil the villain is, as if mass murder wasn’t enough. This is beyond careless and insulting. More so is the mess that is Veronica Mars season three, where Straw Feminists are presented as antagonists (giving the impression that Veronica isn’t or doesn’t consider herself to be a feminist. What!?). While a serial-rapist is on the loose at Veronica’s college, the Straw Feminists lie about one rape – possibly more; thanks for bringing up a sinister implication and then never ever following up on it! – in order to get back at the fraternity house, which is filled with brainless, scarily misogynistic, interchangeable frat boys, just as the Straw Feminists are interchangeable. This reinforces the dangerous myth that women lie about rape to destroy the lives of poor innocent men, which has real-life consequences in courtrooms – and especially in college campuses – in a society that already sees women as petty and as liars. That is helping rape culture.

Acknowledging that a problem exists is a step in the right direction, but to portray it badly, to even glorify such a sensitive, real subject matter with no thought to trigger warnings, can do just as much damage. For its feminist praises, Veronica Mars suffers from being needlessly mean-spirited and unpleasant, and it is not something I would recommend to anyone who has been raped or sexually assaulted, and I would put my foot down on season three.

What would I wholeheartedly recommend then? Ironically, a show from the seventies, deep into the Second-wave feminism movement: the Lynda Carter Wonder Woman series (1975-1979). It is cheesy and harmless to its core, the least likely to offend anyone, and most outstanding for its time is that the superheroine Wonder Woman is seen as an equal to men, by men. People love her for being a hero, for saving the day at the end of every episode, and that is enough. She is also an action heroine who teaches compassion and female companionship. For a good, healthy time, go watch Wonder Woman, and see just how many chances TV was willing to make way back when (look how long it has taken for the most famous female superhero in pop culture to get her own movie).

This brings me to the current trend of feminist programming in the 2010s, and how it has improved. I will admit that I don’t watch much television anymore – books have taken up most of my time, and nothing holds my interest nowadays, not after the overlong disasters, Smallville (2001-2011), Heroes (2006-2010), and Doctor Who (2005-present). Television seems been-there-done-that to my matured self, and the medium is still male dominated, and double standards and sexist tropes can never seem to die already, even with Agent Carter(2015-2016), Jessica Jones (2015-present), Supergirl (2015-present), Orphan Black (2013-present), and Shonda Rhimes. But I still watch a few cartoons.

I only saw the first seasons of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (2010-present) and Star vs. the Forces of Evil (2015-present), and neither piqued my interest enough to continue watching in spite of containing the right amount of girl power and female-friendliness I loved in childhood. I cannot say I have simply, finally grown out of a phase, since I consider one recent anime, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, to be one of the best series I’ve ever seen, for its realistic subversion of the Magical Girl genre, its art style, its deep, disturbing themes, questions, and a fantastic female cast assemble. Girls are real human beings in this anime – my favourite is the tragic, selfish Homura Akemi – written with Miyazaki-level exceptionalism. Another honourable mention is Bob’s Burgers (2011-present) and its wide range of female characters who are funny as well as human and relatable. There is no resorting to easy sexist non-jokes in this sitcom. But it is ongoing at the time of this writing, and given how long-running sitcoms usually end up, I am not optimistic about where it will eventually go.

One “female-centred” cartoon I have completed is The Legend of Korra (2012-2014), an action-fantasy Nickelodeon show featuring a female protagonist of colour that is the sequel series to Avatar: The Last Airbender. Korra is a “kick-butt”, impulsive, aggressive and well-rounded heroine who does grow and develop over the course of four seasons (the less said about season two, the better). While not always competently-written, she’s a perfect contrast to Aang, the previous Avatar and hero. It is here that I am reminded of how often a female can only be seen in a starring role if she is spun-off from the franchise of an already-existing male lead – look no further than the term Distaff Counterpart, and superhero movies for examples of this marketing trend. As if male audiences will only want to see women be a hero in her own story – to be worthy to exist on her own – if she’s already familiar with a popular male character, as a relative or love interest or some other connection.

Nickelodeon executives were initially reluctant to greenlight The Legend of Korra because it features a girl protagonist, and therefore it would not be successful. This is the network that aired The Wild Thornberrys (1998-2004) and As Told By Ginger (2000-2006). They were proven wrong as young boys watching it said they thought Korra was awesome. This didn’t stop them from treating their highest-rated show at the time terribly with slot changes, and then taking it out of syndication because of internet viewings of Korra, as if they wanted it to fail because the main character is a girl. Boys do want to see the other half of the human race represented, if only more chances and risks are taken by retrograde, narrow-minded and sexist studios.

That is not to say that Korra doesn’t have problems in-show. It does – many of them. Korra, like so many female main leads in stories but especially in YA fiction, is an object of the dreaded love triangle, as if romance with a boy should be her main goal above any ambition; to be a possession in the male power fantasy. She has badly-written romance troubles with the boring Mako, who, common in male leads, is never called out on his atrocious treatment of women, like his apathetic and careless behaviour towards them should be considered normal just because he’s a guy and so he knows best. Other guys, like Bolin, also have male entitlement issues that are not addressed, and the “crazy ex-girlfriend” cliché is alive and kicking in season two, in the police officer Lin Beifong with the wise, mature Tenzin, and Korra’s possessive, jilted cousin Eska.

But the writers eventually learned from their mistakes by seasons three and four. Korra has agency and choice, even going through post-traumatic stress disorder after the events of season three. She has female friends, most notably her future girlfriend Asami Sato, Mako’s other former love interest. This relationship – perhaps the best resolution to a love triangle I have ever seen – is a groundbreaking event in children’s television, in featuring two women walking into the metaphorical sunset together, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes, at the end of the final episode. We still had to rely on the creators’ confirmation that they are indeed lovers, since we’ve got a long way to go towards open LBGTQ representation in media aimed at families.

Jump ahead and we have Steven Universe (2013-present), which while having a male protagonist, features such a diverse cast of females – who take up much more screen time than males - it is revolutionary. Not only does it give a giant green intergalactic middle finger to the Smurfette Principle and pass the Bechdel Test with ease, the Crystal Gems – Garnet, Amythest and Pearl – plus other Gems and some human girls, are widely varied in personality, talents, interests, colour, race, shape, size, and even sexual orientation. Steven himself is a far cry from a typical masculine hero – he is allowed to cry, and express his emotions healthily, which is such an important message to convey to children. It is obvious how self-aware Rebecca Sugar and the rest of the production team are, and they do not care for convention or what is considered “normal” – everything in life from gender to family life is so fascinatingly complex that just showing only one way of it is dishonest, and can lead to short-minded thinking and prejudice in children, all throughout adulthood.

Steven Universe unapologetically makes it pretty clear that the all-female alien race of Gems is not straight. They express different kinds of love towards one another, and even kiss onscreen on more than one occasion. There is a reason for why this cartoon is so beloved by the fandom (guys and girls and non-binary), and why it is truly revolutionary and not to be dismissed as a kid’s show – it represents and explores sexuality and sexual awakening as normal, a part of growing up, in its own beautiful way. So I am ashamed for my country of the UK for censoring an episode, “We Need to Talk”, that contains a dance and almost-kiss between Pearl and Rose Quartz, Steven’s mother. Yet a heterosexual kiss is seen as more acceptable and somehow less sexually-explicit. This erasure, like practically every erasure of marginalized groups in society, is false, repulsive and hypocritical. It contradicts the human experience and traces back to the double standards we still adhere to.

Steven Universe is lots of things, including a step in an honestly positive direction. It is progress for other shows to follow when we need it now more than ever.

Join me in my final part of this piece, as I wrap up the conclusion of my thoughts on the supposed decline of the Smurfette Principle in our contemporary age, and what the future holds.

                                                                                                             Click here to view Part 3

Growing Up Under the Smurfette Principle - Part 1

One of the names I go by is “Fantasy Feminist”. Before I even knew what feminism was, I have always loved all things Girl Power. From Magical Girls, witches to superheroines, seeing girls and women kick butt and lead their own lives – while embracing all the colours of the rainbow and the night – has appealed to my little girl self. They have helped me through my unconscious sense of isolation in a world dominated by boys, and gave me a sense of belonging that tells me, “You matter to us.” I didn’t care whether or not they were “proper” role models – from the innocence of youth, Girl Power has communicated to me, loud and clear, “You can be a hero, too”.

Because the media, particularly children’s and young adult entertainment, has for decades been largely saturated in appealing and catering to the male demographic. To the point where a show or film with more than one female character in it is considered progressive and new, something worth talking about widely. Representing half the human race by adding only two of them in a story, whether or not they appear onscreen together, in a world full of dudes, should not be close to “finally getting it”.

You can blame the Smurfette Principle for this. Coined in 1991 (incidentally, the year I was born) by Katha Pollitt in The New York Times, I’ll briefly explain what this is for those who happened to have never heard of it. It is named after Smurfette, the only female Smurf in the magical village of tiny blue dickless creatures, each with their own personality traits and strengths and weaknesses. Smurfette, on the other hand, is stereotypically feminine with a penchant for flowers and just being a helpless victim needing to be rescued constantly by the hundreds of male Smurfs who most if not all have a disturbing fixation on her, presumably because she is literally the only vagina-creature in their small vicinity. How lonely and frightened she must have been for most of the time in this scary village polluted with male entitlement, but is too good and passive to let on. Not helping matters is Smurfette’s origin: The villain Gargamel created her in order to seduce and betray the Smurfs so he can capture them, because females are a male’s ultimate weakness, apparently. This wild seductress is “saved” by Papa Smurf, who uses magic on her to turn her “good” and harmless. And blonde, resembling a little blue Marilyn Monroe – chaste and allowing for the male power fantasy of not being utterly untouchable.

There are so many horrific problems to the character of Smurfette that it would be funny if it wasn’t such a tragically common story arc for a female character, one of “redemption” achieved through the presence of a penis, which is gospel. This doesn’t only occur in children’s programming. And let me tell you, as a brunette girl seeing another brunette who is forced to change against her will into a blonde with a personality reduction and who exists for male attention, my self-esteem was not helped any. But the Smurfette Principle, long before it was recognized and called that, paved the way for a harmful trope aimed at children, who learn about the world around them through the stories told to them. So the common, defensive phrase, “It’s for kids, why are you so hard on it?”, is irresponsible and should never be used as an excuse for bad writing with no effort put in.

The Smurfette Principle reduces a gender to a token. This limiting, lazy standard was so prominent in eighties and early-nineties cartoons and movies that any kid watching them would think that the females of the human species are as rare as anyone else not belonging to the straight white male default. This was bound to have some self-esteem and insecurity issues on young girls, as well, making them feel, consciously or not, that the only ways in which they could be visible anywhere are as love interests, mothers, aunties, secretaries, or any other role which exists primarily to serve the male lead on his journey, his story; worth telling thousands of times over because he possesses the “right” genitalia.

This attitude has been the perceived norm since the dawn of storytelling began.

But every once in a while, there come TV series’ that do care that we exist, and try to appeal to girls, to make the ladies as varied and complex as boys are encouraged to be. But first I’ll share my own childhood experiences with kids’ shows.

I was born and bred all throughout the nineties, which in my opinion was a decade that made a worthwhile effort for diversity and clever writing in children’s media, much more than in the safe, gender stereotyping, market truck of the eighties. I have a brother two years my senior, and together we watched hundreds of cartoons and live-action programmes.

There was Beast Wars: Transformers (1996-1999), which has about two female characters – one, Airazor, is brutally killed off along with her love interest Tigatron before she has a chance to be really interesting (but not enough to sell toys, apparently), and the other is Blackarachnia, who has a rich, evil personality, and it was amazing to watch her slow but engaging development in shifting sides and ultimately becoming a good guy... because of the influence of another male character, Silverbolt, her true love. I guess it’s better than remaining with her abusive partner, Tarantulas.

There was also Gargoyles (1994-1997), a fascinating and dark Disney cartoon with writing akin to Batman: The Animated Series (1992-1995). But even it had its shortage of female roles: Demona, the complex but later-shafted, human-hating villain – the only female gargoyle for most of two seasons; Elisa Maza, the competent and dedicated policewoman, with the added bonus of being mixed race in a time when that was even rarer to see than well-written women, though she was still regulated to be the head male gargoyle Goliath’s love interest; Fox the faux-action woman who exists as a victim – then a wife and mother; and Angela, the second prominent female gargoyle the audience is introduced to in the second season. At least she was given a chance to be interesting before it is revealed that her presence serves to help Goliath’s arc as his and Demona’s daughter. But like every woman in Gargoyles, sooner or later Angela has to be put into several situations where she needs to be saved by men. I have heard that one of the gargoyles, Broadway, was originally meant to be female, but Disney didn’t want a fat girl gargoyle. Yes, because Smurfs forbid that women have more than one body type.

Other shows I watched growing up include The Simpsons (1989-present) (featuring the all-American family gender stereotypes that will never die! But Lisa and Maggie are strong in their own loud and/or quiet ways); Pokémon (1997-present) (Misty and Jessie were always charismatic to me, not just as foils for the male leads); Hey Arnold! (1996-2004) (Helga ditto); Rugrats (1991-2004) (filled with mothers, Lil the twin to the boy Phil, and the bad, manipulative little girl Angelica); Dexter’s Laboratory (1996-1999) (more stay-at-home moms! And sisters are so annoying and stupid and girly LOL! Although Dee Dee is no different from other “stupid” cartoon character archetypes typically reserved for males); Pepper Ann (1997-2000); Recess (1997-2001); Red Dwarf (1988-present) (ironically the only TV series I can think of where I actually prefer there being no recurring female character – season seven killed it for me); Star Trek shows (never as progressive when it comes to how they write their marginalized characters); Malcolm in the Middle (2000-2006); and Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (1993-1995) and its many sequel series’.

The first pink ranger, Kimberly Hart, appealed to me significantly as a child – brown hair, did gymnastics, martial arts, theatrics, music, and was no pushover. She is given loads of opportunities to shine on her own. In my opinion her development is the most noteworthy out of the other rangers, getting involved in darker storylines. I was saddened when Kim left the show in the third season and was replaced by the less-remarkable and blonde Katherine. I don’t hate blondes, and I apologize if I ever gave that impression, but the “dumb blonde” plus other useless female stereotypes existing as love interests for guys is such a tired cliché used in hundreds of stories. Really what I remember most about Katherine is that she turned into a cat sometimes in her first, evil appearance.

It is no wonder that in 2016, Kimberly got her own solo comic book series, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: Pink – her impact on nineties girls, including yours truly, was felt.

The one thing that practically all the women I have mentioned above have in common is something inescapable, oppressive, insidious and not accidental: They are all skinny. They have the same slim body type, with curves in the “right places”, to the point where it wouldn’t surprise me if animation studios shared the same template sheet. Guys can look different, and have every kind of body, shape and size to go with their distinct personalities. But girls? Unfathomable. Not sexy enough. Fat girls were being erased, or demonized (look at any Disney film, such as The Little Mermaid (1989), for further confirmation of this); they are made to feel ashamed of who they are and what they look like by not conforming to impossible beauty standards – something that cartoons can get away with time and time again.

Even the Girl Power shows I grew up loving are not immune to this. Yet there are things to enjoy about them in terms of progress, such as female characters given their own agency and opportunities to be practical in their own stories centred on them.

I enthusiastically watched the funny, satirical and genuinely well-written superhero cartoon The Powerpuff Girls (1998-2005) – Cartoon Network’s highest-rated programme in history, by the way – and Nickelodeon’s Sabrina the Teenage Witch (1996-2003), along with its Disney animated spinoff series, Sabrina: The Animated Series (1999-2000) (which I always found to be much cleverer and funnier than the live-action sitcom. Shame the same cannot be said for its 2000s sequel series, Sabrina’s Secret Life (2002)). My brother watched these with me too, and didn’t seem to mind how many females were on screen; startlingly, showing the world how it is didn’t traumatize him or make him feel small, like so many girls of all ages are made to feel when exposed to the vast number of “boys’” action properties.

But the one girl power action-drama-comedy cartoon I loved above all else and continue to be a huge fan of as a non-jaded adult, is Sailor Moon (1993-1997). What began as a bad dub that tried to appeal to girls when Power Rangers was a phenomenal success (as if girls didn’t like it as well as boys, which is nonsense), this weird monster-of-the-week, Japanese-licensed program was one of my first introductions to anime – I clearly remember Pokémon being the first time I saw this unique animation style – and in spite of its abundance of failings, I’ve never looked back. There I was, a lonely, insecure little girl in awe of the fact that the majority of the cast of characters in Sailor Moon is female, each with their own individual personalities and backstories to contrast with one another. The anime is action-orientated, but not too violent. There are more male villains than female. Years later when the internet hit full bloom, I watched the original, unedited Japanese episodes of Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon, subbed, on YouTube; and any embarrassment I ever felt for admiring it for its groundbreaking feat of female love disappeared instantly. I adored this franchise more and more as I searched on various websites and message boards by people equally inspired by the anime for being unapologetically “girly”. My manga collection started around that time at age sixteen. My love of all things Magical Girls came from Sailor Moon, warts and terribly-skinny girls and all. With its messages of compassion and femininity being strengths instead of roadblocks/obstacles to overcome, and with its themes of friendship, hope, empathy and support, it made me into what I am today in the pop culture world.

That was my childhood television-watching experience in the nineties. By the time the new millennium came round, I was already aware of the shows I liked, and which I thought didn’t have enough girls in them. The early 2000s’ children’s cartoon programming was a sharper, more optimistic and opportunistic time for me, when I was finally to become a teenager. True my insecurities, shyness and indecisiveness would only grow from there, but escapism in cartoons still relaxed me.

I indulged in new well-written shows with female leads such as Kim Possible (2002-2007), heavily influenced by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (which I’ll talk about in the next part of the essay), but in the spy genre. Kim Possible is your basic average girl (still conventionally pretty and slim, though) who happens to save the world openly in her spare time using martial arts and gadgets. There is a lot to be compared to The Powerpuff Girls in its clever parody approach and quick, witty dialogue. In terms of other female characters created to break the Smurfette cycle, Shego the henchwoman is a blast – literally and figuratively – but Monique, a POC friend of Kim’s, is not in the show as much as she should have been, sadly shoved aside to make further space for the predominately male presences in a show that’s “gender neutral” for having a female protagonist. Kim Possible also made me aware of another sexist trope I hate – the bumbling, incompetent male sidekick who exists to make the female hero look better. Ron Stoppable always annoyed me in that regard, so the times when he is a hero, when Kim should have easily been, were baffling to me. And of course they were “upgraded” from best friends to lovers by the end of the third season, as part of teaching kids again and again that friendship between boys and girls cannot exist without any sexual tension. Romance naturally must come of it. Kim and Ron were doing fine before anyway, but that is part of a change that comes with growing up, I guess. Still, it is not the most positive of “feminist” messages. But overall I enjoyed Kim Possible, Disney Channel’s highest-rated and longest-running cartoon.

Other cartoons I watched include American Dragon: Jake Long (2005-2007), the slice-of-life Braceface (2001-2004), The Weekenders (2000-2004), and the one season hit wonder Dave the Barbarian (2004-2005), from the same creator as The Weekenders, Doug Langdale. There were shows I enjoyed as a kid despite suffering badly from the Smurfette Principle, such as Jade from Jackie Chan Adventures (2000-2005) and Mira Nova from Buzz Lightyear of Star Command (2000-2001), where of course Mira, the only notable female space ranger, is also a princess, which is a ridiculously common archetype to place on female characters, not just for Disney.

Speaking of science-fiction cartoon comedies, let’s talk about Futurama (1999-2003, 2008-2013). Futurama is a very funny and smart parody that unfortunately relies on sexist and misogynistic clichés for some of its humour, despite it being set in the 30th century. It doesn’t show enough social self-awareness on the writers’ part, to the point where I’m convinced they had forgotten the timeline they were writing in entirely. Leela is what is commonly called in fantasy and sci-fi genres a “strong female character”; she is a spaceship captain and martial arts professional, and is hard, caring, and allowed to be as funny, mean and hypocritical as the male assemble. But practically every joke made at her expense has to do with two things: her one eye, and her being a woman. Again, this is a 30th century show. The only other recurring female character is Amy Wong – great for Asian representation, and is heavily implied to be pansexual, but she is only known as the klutz; a clueless, childish, sexualized filler character who doesn’t nearly receive enough screen time. As if the sci-fi genre as a whole doesn’t have enough problems with diversity; regurgitating tropes that even escape parodies. Even the (all male) writing team admit to forgetting sometimes that Amy is meant to be getting a PHD in physics and other space program studies. The woman I find to be the funniest in Futurama is Mom, who is living proof that an older female can be as evil and engaging as any man – as the Mr Burns’s of the male-dominated comedy club, without resorting to tired sexist non-jokes. Like with Kim Possible, I continue to enjoy Futurama even with its gender-related setbacks, nostalgia goggles off.

However, I enjoyed another cartoon much more in the 2000s, long past the age where I was expected to have stopped watching kid’s stuff, and which I consider to be accurately “gender neutral”, and that was Teen Titans (2003-2006). Teen Titans, along with The Powerpuff Girls, helped to start my love of superheroes, as Sailor Moon did for my love of Magical Girls, and Sabrina did for witches (Harry Potter notwithstanding; my life as a bibliophile took off in my late teens). Though I admit that as much as I had a love-hate-but-pushing-towards-love relationship with and opinion on Teen Titans, nearly all the female characters are still drawn with a similar slim body template, whilst the guys are allowed to be big or small or in-between, with as much muscle as is appropriate. This is common in other Cartoon Network superhero shows like Justice League (2001-2004) and Static Shock (2000-2004), adapting from the male-dominated comic book industry where tiny waists and big, physics-defying breasts in women had been and still are a sad commodity all on their own. Underage girls are just thin and petite, remaining an attractive ideal for (mostly white) beauty ideals.

Back to Teen Titans, while I will always admire the subtle way Beast Boy is developed throughout its five seasons – subverting violent, toxic masculinity – I keep thinking about how the powers of the two female Teen Titans, Starfire and Raven, are tied directly to their emotions, reinforcing the sexist notion that women are the overly emotional ones, never the leaders. They are nevertheless good characters, but then you have Jinx, literally the only female bad guy to appear regularly on the show, and only then as part of a group of dudes, the Hive. And fear not, insecure and fetishist male viewers, Jinx is redeemed in the finale by, wait for it, a male hero love interest! One who only appeared in one episode beforehand! It is Beast Wars, the cycle trotting out. At least in Gargoyles Demona stays a villain, and her own individual self, with or without male aid.

Men can fix everything, including bad, unconventional girls, as TV programmes continuously lead us to believe. I know there are plenty of examples of male baddies turning good in pop culture, notably in superhero and fantasy works – Dinobot from Beast Wars and Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005-2008) come to mind – but often their redemption is a huge part of their journey and character development. It is something not to be tossed aside or forgiven and forgotten easily. It is a big deal for them. Meanwhile, women baddies seem to just need a man to show them the error of their ways, and boom! she is a reward and brownie point for the male hero. As soon as she switches sides she becomes boring (poor Blackarachnia, and Teen Titans got cancelled before a reformed Jinx could do anything), with hardly a thought to her actions in her past; on whether she has truly earned her status as a good person. This takes away the agencies, personalities and complexities of girls as fully-functioning human beings and falls back on limited and dated sexist stereotypes of the female form being pure and good for men and that should be their end goal in life.

The early-to-mid 2000s also marks the time when my Sailor Moon Magical Girl craze took wonderful flight. I sought out anything I could find that is of the Magical Girl genre. This is also the time when I started to get into anime online, and the few of the many anime I watched were Wedding Peach (one of my worst guilty pleasures), Tokyo Mew Mew (the 4Kids dub, Mew Mew Power, is one of the worst I have ever seen and it can burn in hell), Princess Tutu, a little of Cardcaptor Sakura and Revolutionary Girl Utena, and Petite Princess Yui. The quality of the programmes didn’t really matter to me; what did were the Sailor Moon nostalgia trips.

The Magical Girl genre isn’t limited to Japan, either, as I discovered European shows such as W.I.T.C.H. (2004-2006) (I’m a fan of the comics rather than the cartoon adaptation, however),Winx Club (2004-2015), and Trollz (2005-2006). It was around here that I came to realize that in most Magical Girl cartoons, the girls use magic and healing properties, similar to witches, who are seen as the “evil” girls – Winx Club always confused me as to why this is so, and even in W.I.T.C.H. the girl group are never called witches – and the boys use physical force to fight evil – they are the knights, they are the protectors. While it is cool that these girls have such power – not explicitly stated, to varying degrees, to be tied to their emotions – and I remember an episode of Trollz where the boy trolls are jealous of the girls trolls having magic gems that allow them do anything they want, it is telling that the boys are still seen as the muscle, the rational ones, the ones involved in the more “real” action. They are concrete and grounded, in contrast to the girls who use abstract, fantastical methods to overcome obstacles.

How often do you see a magical girl actually use their hands to push, shove, pull or punch anyone? Or kick? Sailor Uranus uses a sword, and Kimberly Hart uses a bow and arrow, but the other girls seem to have only magical, non-threatening weapons, such as wands and sceptres (never used for clubbing), at their disposal.

Pretty colours and sparkles can only mask so much, but the importance of female friendships and compassion endeared me to a lot of these cheesy girls’ shows. Also hey, if boys can have silly, fun, pandering franchises aimed towards them, why can’t girls?

Then there is Puella Magi Madoka Magica in 2011... but that’s a discussion for later.

Well, we come to the end of Part 1 of my essay on how being exposed to Girl Power TV helped my self-esteem and why I had a desperate need to become familiar with them anyway I could. In the next part I will talk about other shows, ones that are not guilty pleasures but just guilty, and modern programming with feminist intentions that subvert the dreaded Smurfette Principle, a dragon that has been hard to slay since the 1980s.

                                                                                                             Click here to view Part 2