Protagonists, Femininity, and Cross-Identification

So, about twenty minutes ago, I posted on William Deresiewicz's A Jane Austen Education. However, I had a few additional observations which might have side-tracked a little from discussion of the book itself. Rather, it would have brought the focus down repeatedly into specific observations, which I felt warranted their own post.

In his chapter on Emma, he writes about a seminar in popular fiction which he had taken. The class read works such as Sherlock Holmes, Edgar Allan Poe, Dracula, and The Maltese Falcon--and then Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca.

During the class discussion, the professor asked the (mostly male) class, "What's the matter? Didn't you like it?"

Deresiewicz answered, "I don't know. I can't really relate to it. It's kind of--girlie."

While the guys murmured their assent, "One of the female students noted that although women learn to cross-identify with male heroes--out of necessity, if nothing else, since that's what literature mainly gives you--men are only ever asked to identify with other men."

It's an intriguing observation. And kind of interesting that so many people never have to think about it. Although female protagonists are a little more common nowadays--Dorothy of L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Katniss of The Hunger Games, Cassia of the Matched Trilogy, and outside of strict literature, Wonder Woman, Sailor Moon, or any given Miyazaki heroine--it's still almost inevitable that at some point, a female viewer will end up identifying with a male hero.

Even I, as a woman, can remember identifying with male characters--Mr. Spock, (although I would later add Uhura and Saavik) Robin in "Batman," Peter Parker,  Luke in the Shadow Children series.

Again, nowadays, there is often a female character--a supporting protagonist or the like--for us to identify with. But it would be interesting to look into the ratio of female protagonists to male ones, and to compare how many are in books and other media intended specifically for women, as opposed to the number in gender-neutral works and works targeted for men.

In some ways, it's reflective of how society expects us to act. We, as women, are asked to go into "man's world," to take up traditionally masculine jobs and roles--in some cases, we're told that our femininity is a shackle, that we have to choose between being strong and being feminine. One, or the other, with no in-between and no crossover. How often do we, as a society, ask that a man take on a traditionally feminine job or role? How often do we ridicule the ones that do? And what would it take to create a real, meaningful dialogue, in which people listen instead of simply waiting to respond, that addresses the strengths of both the feminine and the masculine?

I'll see you on the next shelf,
  --Rin.