Cedars, Spring 2021

14 equality of women based on the equal value, dignity and humanity of the sexes. And it’s on these terms that I find the SFC mold so frustrating. It’s not just that it’s a new trope, a fresh box to force women back into. Male characters, too, have their archetypes, and some of these tropes are just as damaging to the cultural concept of masculinity as the SFC is to what it means to be female. The problem isn’t the mere existence of archetypes. It’s the predominance of one particular perspective to the total exclusion of more fully formed frameworks for femininity. Too often, mere inclusivity is billed as a feminist victory, when, in reality, the SFC vilifies complex womanhood as often as it vindicates it. The SFC lets Hollywood claim “feminism” while limiting women to a single vision of empowerment. For one thing, the SFC promotes a paradigm of empowerment defined primarily by physical toughness. Women desiring the agency and autonomy of men are forced to compete with men on masculine terms, often requiring either years of austere, often- traumatic training or literal superpowers to do so. It’s a slap in the face for women who aren’t either born half-alien or raised in an assassin school. While the question of how society responds to physically strong women is worthy of discussion, limiting feminism in film to physical fortitude ignores the real desire of female audience members: to see themselves reflected in complex characters who drive their own stories. The SFC often fails to accomplish this because it is so focused on (rightly) avoiding problematic stereotypes that it creates an entirely new one, producing characters that are uncompelling and one-dimensional. Maybe studios are afraid to write real women because the SFC is seen as the only way for women to compete with men. But this assumption is a comically shallow view of what real power is and, by extension, what equality requires. Even #MeToo, a feminist movement focused on men exerting physical control over women, was more about the subtler domination of financial and cultural power than brute physical strength. In fact, tying feminism to physical dominance gives women a pass for toxic behavior that would be seen as outright abusive if performed by a man. For instance, in “Captain America: The First Avenger,” Peggy Carter grabs her gun and shoots at Steve Rogers, protected only by his untested prototype shield, after seeing him with another woman. Ultimately, focusing exclusively on the physicality of female characters, even in these “positive” ways, is inherently objectifying. The SFC is defined solely by her strength in the same way that the damsel-in-distress was defined solely by her weakness. Her value comes from her physical abilities rather than from who she is as a person. And it’s who women are as people that audiences, male and female, actually care about. Rather than investing in genuine character development, the SFC is a lazy ticking of the inclusion checkbox that ignores the complexities of real women. That’s why, on the one hand, there’s me, who wants to see more female representation done right, and on the other there are angry fanboys complaining about the “agenda” taking over their favorite franchises. While I would argue that an “agenda” as unambitious as mere female presence is one that we should probably all get behind, we are both frustrated by the same thing: subpar storytelling. Despite its well- intentioned attempt at subversion, the SFC is ultimately more macho than modern. It subliminally suggests that to be “empowered,” a woman must go out of her way to get rid of anything that could possibly be construed as “girly.” This includes not only feminine stereotypes of weakness and passivity but any universally human qualities that don’t fit the tough, hardcore mold.