Is it too much to ask that my heroines be clothed while they kick ass? Maybe if I was a forty-year-old male gamer with an inferiority complex, I would understand. Sure, who doesn’t enjoy being in control? Being in control of a character? Great. Being in control of a heroine in a catsuit? Even better. Maybe then I could almost get it – how it feels to look at a woman like you own her because with every turn of your thumb on the joystick she does a little dance and half of her clothes come off.
To be honest, I guess I really don't get it. Perhaps I'm just a woman with a distaste for objectification.
But you have to understand what it feels like to have Wonder Woman be the first movie I've seen, um, ever, where a female protagonist's biggest scenes focused on her face, not her legs or her ass or her boobs.
I'm truly excited for all of the little girls who are being born now who – hopefully – will never have to experience a world without strong female leads who also happen to be clothed. But you have to understand: I never had that.
I come from a video game family. I was better at "Mario Kart" than I was at pretty much any other skill (save writing, which I've always had an affinity for). My dad was always playing the newest Zelda game, and I was always watching, waiting to get the chance to meet the newest incarnation of Princess Zelda, herself. I remember playing "Super Paper Mario" and being so excited when I was able to play as Princess Peach.
But the truth is, no Zelda game has ever allowed you to play as Zelda, save a few spin-offs like "Hyrule Warriors." She was always kept at a distance, both plot-wise and literally, while Link swung that master sword around and killed the bad guys. And Princess Peach was only ever a dainty blonde who barely knew her way around a parasol. There was nothing impressive in that.
Even in games where there were female characters, I was always being reminded: women cannot be warriors like men can.
A few months ago, I saw an ad online for "Bayonetta 2." I had never heard of the Bayonetta games before, so I decided to watch the trailer. I was hooked. A bad-ass woman who summons demons on a regular basis and wears high-heeled shoes made of guns? Sign me up! But my mom advised me to look into reviews.
About five-and-a-half minutes of Googling revealed a page’s worth of results of female gamers writing about the sexism present in the game. But, my young mind argued, maybe she was just sexually confident? Maybe it wasn't as bad as they said?
The feminist in me disagreed, as they're apt to do. What happens if I give these game producers my money and they consider that my signed permission slip to produce more games with objectified women? What if I was taking part in allowing the video game industry to continue to make women into props rather than heroines, thin waists and big butts in booty shorts rather than women with real personalities, values, desires, and motivations?
The feminist in me demanded that we hold the video game industry accountable for creating strong female protagonists that sizzle with self-confidence but also don't feel the need to prove their sexuality to suit the male eye.
But I bought the game anyway. Here's my reasoning.
If I sat around waiting for games to be produced with heroines that had all the qualities I hoped for – a personality and list of motivations and deep character relationships, reasonable attire, a camera angle that didn't migrate for dangerously long periods of time into the nether regions of her lower body – then I'd probably be waiting for years.
So why should I buy a game that's feminist report is a little less than positive? Because it's closer to what I want. There is nothing perfectly feminist out there for me to support, so it's up to me as a consumer to make educated choices and give my money to places that are closer to the ideal heroine I'm craving.
And Bayonetta was definitely a step up from the prop-ish approach to heroines we often see. She was empowered, confident, snarky, and took no prisoners. The male characters in the game seemed like mice compared to her. The camera did wander a little more than I’d prefer, but it was obvious that Bayonetta was not just eye-candy. (And did I mention the summoning-demons part? Super cool.)
Maybe it wasn't the perfect purchase, but I've made my peace with it. I have hope that by sending money to games with strong, empowered female protagonists, I'm doing some little bit of good in guiding the hands of game producers. Maybe by making purchases of games that are closer and closer to what I want, I can make sure my daughters have games to play where they can fight the bad guys with swords instead of a pink parasol.
Some feminists may choose to refrain from giving any money to games with heroines in them if they aren't exactly what they're looking for. In many ways, I deeply respect that. I hate settling. I'm a perfectionist by nature. And I would never want to support something I considered to be against my values.
But if we don't give money to any games with female protagonists in them, what do you think will happen to female protagonists? The same thing that happened to Catwoman and Elektra. Female protagonists will become less accessible to the little girls who so desperately need to see them.
So the best advice I can give to you is this: do good now, but hope for better.
