How should we read Twilight in an age of #metoo?
Can we afford to indulge in even an ounce of fantasy when it comes to men?
Well, it finally happened. My eldest daughter discovered the “Twilight” series. She sinks into a sofa and reads the books for hours on end, rising only occasionally to hydrate and refuel.
And then she sidled into the kitchen one day, trying to look all casuallike: “Mum … do you think I could watch the ‘Twilight’ movie?”
Silence. I turned to look her in the eye: “Are you sure you want to do that?” “Um … yes?” “Because once you see Robert Pattinson as Edward, you can’t unsee it. No man will ever measure up to that fantasy. You will forever be disappointed in men who are Not Edward and do not look like Robert Pattinson, possibly the most beautiful man in the history of humanity.” “Mummy, I’m serious!” “SO AM I!” And thus we find ourselves in a feminist quandary.
What should we make of Bella, Twilight’s heroine? For the first three books she’s perennially in peril and needing rescue by Jacob the werewolf and Edward the vampire, but in the last book, “Breaking Dawn” (which, tellingly, features a towering white queen chess piece moved into the foreground), she emerges as the most powerful vampire of all. Yes, we could argue that her ability to envelope her compatriots in a protective force field sticks awfully close to the stereotype of women as nurturing and protecting her loved ones, rather than attacking her foes, but then again, “Breaking Dawn” also makes a big deal of vampire Bella’s new physical powers, too. On the other hand, there’s her determination to sacrifice herself for her unborn vampire baby … Third wave feminism might argue that Bella is empowered and empowering because she knows what her heart wants and she fights for it — if it’s a man and a baby, that’s OK. And if we get pleasure out of reading her story, that’s OK, too. I’m not entirely convinced by this idea, but I can see its logic.
Put it this way: if we somehow disqualify sources of pleasure because they’re problematic from a feminist perspective, then we’re exercising a kind of disapproving, controlling, patronizing position over women that mimics a patriarchal power dynamic.
But let’s not kid ourselves: for most of Twilight’s fans, the books are about Edward and (to a much lesser degree, in my opinion) Jacob. And I have to wonder if indulging in the highly pleasurable fantasy of the perfect boy or the perfect man only sets us up for disappointment or — at this particular cultural moment — worse.
I’ve been thinking about this stuff for a while. Shortly after I had my first baby, more than a dozen years ago, I discovered the “Outlander” series. These doorstoppers were a godsend, given that my son could breastfeed for a solid 40 minutes at a time and I was in desperate need of distraction. I was completely infatuated with the hero, Jaime, whose beauty and bravery and strength and intelligence and sense of humour and …. Well, my husband had a bit of a rough time during that period of our marriage. I remember muttering things like, “Jaime would never have said that.” And: “Jaime would know what to do about this!” I was joking. Kind of. Not really. All the time I was spending with “Outlander” and the many gallant, attentive men in its cast of characters, while certainly pleasurable, was also making me increasingly annoyed with actual men. The same thing happened during my Edward Period. I’m not sure the pleasure’s worth the disappointment.
My friend Ingrid, who is a psychotherapist and often talks me off the various ledges of my despair, said, “Yes, but when your daughter reads these books she’s learning about what kinds of qualities she wants to look for in a man.” YES! QUALITIES THAT SHE’LL NEVER FIND!
In the wake of Harvey Weinstein’s unmasking as a sexual predator, the subsequent falls of his ilk, and the seismic response to #metoo, men and even some women have expressed surprise at just how many of their friends and family have been sexually harassed or assaulted, not by strangers in dark alleys, but by co-workers, bosses and mentors. To learn that almost all the women in your life (and maybe some men) have been sexually victimized by men (respected and accomplished men!) is to be confronted with the incredible pervasiveness of sexual victimization. Empowering my daughters to be vigilant in this harsh reality might require a far more skeptical approach to heroes like Jaime and Edward. Can we afford to indulge in even an ounce of fantasy when it comes to men? Forget about disappointment and annoyance — what about PTSD?
Latham Hunter is a writer and professor of communications and cultural studies; her work has been published in journals, anthologies, magazines and print news for over 20 years. She blogs at The Kids’ Book Curator.