The Complexities of Twilight & Strong Women
Team Katniss or Team Bella?
Amid the trenches of COVID-19-induced lockdown, I, and millions around the world, flocked to media as a form of comfort. Media consumption was such a prominent part of my lockdown experience that my sisters and I could easily divide up stages of the pandemic based on what our latest TV show, movie, or music fixation was. Of all our movie marathons in 2021, one series left us hungry for more and with a longing for the 2000s and 2010s: The Twilight Saga.
I reached middle school just as The Twilight Saga reached its final chapter and consequentially didn’t get to revel in it during its glory days. Much of the social media discourse I can recall from that time period about Twilight was that its fictitious world of vampires and werewolves was laughably moronic and that protagonist Bella Swan was a woeful, hopeless character that set a poor example for young girls. Despite this, and other important criticisms about Quileute cultural appropriation and the glorification of toxic relationships, The Twilight Saga somehow remains relevant a decade after the release of its last film.
My sisters and I weren’t the only ones going through a Twilight phase during quarantine, my social media feeds erupted with others re-watching the series as well. Perhaps folks were basking in the comfort of nostalgia during such an uncertain time in the world. There is also an interesting level of introspection that comes from re-visiting media as adults that we loved as children. We’re able to laugh at the childishness and scrutinize its outdatedness. Analyze how that media may have imprinted on us (Twilight pun intended) in one way or another and see what more we can learn from it as grown-ups.
There is also plenty to learn by looking a bit closer at media that is marketed to and beloved by teenage girls, yet castigated by the masses. Why did the world look at Twilight, and teenage girls’ obsessions with it, with such disdain?
I’ve often heard Twilight’s Bella Swan compared to Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, which is odd to me now because comparing the two characters today feels like comparing apples and oranges. They exist in entirely different universes and have varying backgrounds and motivations, and ultimately, represent distinct virtues.
Katniss is often praised for being a strong role model for young girl viewers, as she’s physically adventurous, smart, cunning, and displays selflessness time and time again when she sacrifices her safety for the safety of her loved ones. Throughout The Hunger Games (2012), the first film in the series, actress Jennifer Lawrence portrays Katniss as relatively stoic. She’s been sent to die but doesn’t give in to emotion. Little to no outbursts, no unnecessary tears shed. She’s a girl with a plan to survive and she’s sticking to it.
I recently had a conversation about the two characters with a friend and claimed that Katniss is undeniably the stronger character. The courageous class act. Still, after further discussion about how our society defines “strength,” particularly for girls and women, I began to reconsider some of my thoughts.
Who decided that showing emotional restraint rather than leaning into emotional experiences is a display of “strength”?
Our society places value on undergoing traumatizing experiences while concealing pain from the world.
“You never would have known,” people say in awe about relationships that turned out to be laced with maltreatment. “She’s so strong” we whisper about individuals who have endured unimaginable suffering in silence.
While it indeed takes an unimaginable level of strength to overcome severe misfortune, these types of comments help cultivate an environment where people are praised for bottling up their emotions, letting adverse mental health effects fester.
This phenomenon is, of course, co-occurring with a mainstream culture that labels intense displays of emotion from women as hysterical. It’s no wonder the general public celebrated Katniss’ unwavering, sober demeanor and reprimanded Bella’s inconsolable displays of sadness and yearning. An emotional girl is seen as an out-of-control girl. And the patriarchy does not accept girls that cannot be controlled.
In this way, an upset girl unabashedly showing her sadness is a mini rebellion in itself. Having the opportunity to stare at the sky, scream, and let tears fall before picking up your bow and arrow.
And reaching teenage girlhood in a patriarchal society - coming to unpleasant terms with how your appearance and relationships invisibly and boisterously dictate your social value in most spaces - gives girls a lot to feel upset about. Seeing that sense of distress mirrored in media, as feeble or serious as it may feel in person, provides a sense of catharsis and validation.
Particularly in the second film The Twilight Saga: New Moon (2009), Bella displays deep emotional complexity. When Edward Cullen abandons her suddenly, it leaves her utterly heartbroken and empty. Audiences see Bella collapse in the woods, scream through nightmares, detach from friends, and engage in risky behavior to try to gain his attention back. We watch her decay in her bedroom in the iconic shot of the seasons passing as she sits in one spot, frozen in her grief as time passes. Viewers later see Bella slowly regain her happiness as she engages in healthy activities, like helping Jacob fix up an old motorcycle, and ultimately saving Edward from death by the evil “Volturi.”
As bleak as the heartbreak portions of New Moon are, they feature relatively authentic portrayals of loss. Bella isn’t buttoning up her emotions as girl viewers everywhere have been told to do, but rather laying out her cards for all to see. Granting girls permission to feel as they heal. Something they may have been longing to hear.
The Twilight Saga is by no means a perfect series, particularly for young children to watch. As I briefly mentioned, cultural features of The Quileute Tribe of La Push, Washington are grossly appropriated and elements of Bella’s relationships with both Edward and Jacob are controlling. Part of why it’s remained in the public consciousness for as long as it has is because of its viscerally imperfect protagonist, who offers young women viewers an honest reflection of the unhappiness, lovesickness, and curiosity common in our lives.
A strong woman, a strong person, cannot always go into battle with swords sharpened and tear ducts dry. But that doesn’t mean they’re not still enduring those battles with courage.
Perhaps there are opportunities for new media to pick up where Twilight and The Hunger Games left off. In healthier, more equitable fashions, showcasing the range of strong women that persist through vampires, werewolves, and other ailments. Displaying strength through tears, tenacity, and above all, complexity.