Cole Bowman
The Star Wars universe is dynamic, thrilling, and inspired. It is space opera in its truest sense, combining an intricate web of political maneuvering, space battles, romantic subtext, and the occasional duel to the death with lightsabers. But there's an imbalance in the Force, and it's not the one that concerns the Jedi. There's an imbalance of gender roles in everyone's favorite space saga, with the vast majority of characters played by males while the female parts are minimized at nearly every turn. But the underlying problem of womanhood in Star Wars might be even more insidious than Darth Sidious himself. It can be tough to be a woman in any universe, but perhaps it's especially so in a galaxy far, far away, where the only obvious female role models are a princess and a queen both intimately related to the dark lord trying to rule them all.
So, why is it difficult to embrace a strong female identity anywhere, let alone in the midst of intergalactic war? Women are expected to fulfill many disparate roles during their lives, so it's little surprise that there's a conflict raging within many women about who they're supposed to be in the absence of strong role models to emulate. Do any of the women in Star Wars have what it takes to bring feminism to the Force?
While Princess Leia and Queen Amidala are instantly recognizable figures in popular culture, the questions persist: do they represent women positively? Are they strong feminists or damsels in disguise? Can they inspire people in the same way that the men of the films can?
What does it mean to be a strong female role model? Depending on whom you ask, the criteria can be very different, all predicated on distinct views of what it actually means to be a woman. It's thus extremely difficult to articulate what it means to be a “strong woman” in nearly any human context, let alone in a galaxy with such diversity of species and races that droids and Wookiees can have a celebration alongside humans and Ewoks. Because of this, female role models presented in the media are often left critically unexamined. They're simply accepted as “good enough” if they are at all different than the stereotypical depiction of women within our own culture. For the most part, though, such “good enough” images of femininity really aren't representative of true strength for feminists.
What does it mean to be a strong woman? It's much the same as being a strong man, but with different body parts. The vast majority of feminist philosophers would agree with this standpoint, to varying degrees. It's important, then, to understand what feminism means. Feminism is not an institution that aims to denigrate men and assert a dominant female paradigm. Instead, feminism is an institution that insists upon an equal footing for both sexes, whether in Toronto or on Tatooine: “Feminism is the radical idea that women are people.”1
There are many voices striving for equality of the sexes, which have codified into branches with their own specific approach. Radical feminists argue that a “strong woman” eschews all of the stereotypes that have been placed upon women by a long history of patriarchy. Ecofeminists take this idea further by pointing to the intersection between oppression of women and the environment as a means of empowerment. Liberal feminists call for an absolute equality between the genders on all levels, whereas cultural feminists find strength in the differences between the genders. Each of these perspectives is valid, but there's no überfrau, no “superwoman,” they could all agree on to embody their ideal strong woman.
Therein lies one problem of trying to depict any sort of honest female role model: no single woman can represent all of what it means to be a woman, no matter how strong she is. You can't, by definition, be both a strong example of motherhood and a strong example of a woman who chooses not to have children. This is the first place where Star Wars falls short. While Leia is awesome, she can't represent every aspect of a woman's experience. She's just one laser-shooting rebel space princess. How can we expect her to be the whole package of feminist strengths?
What we want from female characters is the same as what we want from male characters: to be dynamic and interesting, as well as to display growth in response to challenges. In the six Star Wars movies, there are only a limited number of women who even have a chance at meeting these ideals. Can we consider them strong women?
In the original trilogy, there's only one major female character: Princess Leia Organa, a member of the Alderaanian royal family and a leader in the Rebel Alliance. She is without a doubt a powerful role model for young women. Unfortunately, besides Leia, Aunt Beru has the largest female role in the original trilogy, and she's killed about a quarter way through Episode IV. Thankfully, though, Leia is as dynamic as you can get, challenging the men she encounters at every turn by outshooting, outmaneuvering, and outquipping them – telling Grand Moff Tarkin to his face, “I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.” The entire original trilogy hinges on her, since she incites much of the action in the first place. Leia's ambition is literally spelled out in the opening crawl: “Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess Leia races home aboard her starship, custodian of the stolen plans that can save her people and restore freedom to the galaxy.” Everything else that happens starts with Leia's bravery and is carried through by her tenacity. Leia is a strong woman.
In the prequel trilogy, there are more women in the foreground, including Shmi Skywalker and several female Jedi. This generation of films, however, fails in much the same way the original trilogy does in representing women. Queen Padmé Amidala of Naboo is the only truly significant female role. In fact, she's the only woman with a speaking role at all in Episode III – unless you count the deleted scenes featuring Mon Mothma.
Like Leia, Padmé is a key figure in the action of the prequel trilogy. From the very beginning, she's shown to be quick-witted and resilient. In order to save her people, she fights bravely against the Trade Federation. During the Clone Wars, it's her political and military savvy that gives the good guys the edge they desperately needed. Along with Mon Mothma, she challenges the growing power of Chancellor Palpatine with the Delegation of 2000, which leads to the formation of the Rebel Alliance. It's easy to see where her daughter, Leia, might have gotten some of her own strength.
While Leia and Padmé are typically recognized as the feminist icons of Star Wars, they're not all the films have to offer. Queen Amidala's young handmaidens – Sabé, Cordé, and Dormé – provide us with fine examples of strong women. Chosen for their close resemblance to Padmé, they act as handmaidens and decoys for the queen from a young age. They trained with Padmé extensively in order to imitate her correctly in the event they should be needed to stand in for the queen. They were also trained as warriors able to defend the queen if necessary. They are fluent in several languages, and despite the stress that undoubtedly comes from their position impersonating the queen, they act effectively in Amidala's stead even during tense encounters.
While these women are undoubtedly influential in the story, it's important to note the criticism they've received as representatives of women in Star Wars. Each has been supposedly typecast in a different way, opening up the criticism that they act in ways that stereotype women as a whole. Each has been placed into a position that shows the specific mechanisms of oppression against women that feminists have fought to dismantle. What turns heroines to stereotypes so quickly?
If there were a Jedi Order of feminism, Simone de Beauvoir (1908–1986) would undoubtedly be on the Council. As a cornerstone of feminist philosophy, Beauvoir's influential book, The Second Sex, predicted many of the issues that fueled what's called Second Wave feminism.2 These issues include a frank look at sexual and reproductive rights for women, women's relationship to religion, their access to education, and many others. Beauvoir focuses on how women have been relegated into specifically oppressive roles throughout history, such as motherhood and sexual objectification. These roles have been rarified into stereotypical “places” for women to occupy as a result of patriarchy. What might Beauvoir have to say about the way Padmé and Leia relate to these roles?
While Padmé is a powerful political leader and a dynamic woman, the acme of her role in the prequel trilogy comes with the birth of her twin children. The plot is even framed around a climactic buildup for that very moment, and so her importance in the film can be seen as being reduced to the births. While it's important for the entire story arc that the two were born in that way, it's easy to be left wondering what happened to the brilliant Padmé introduced in The Phantom Menace. Does Padmé's pregnancy relegate her to being a stereotype?
Not by a long shot. Motherhood is not an impediment to feminism. It's true that motherhood has been seen in this way by a number of feminist thinkers, such as radical feminist Andrea Dworkin, who contends that “[women being] trained to be mothers from infancy on means that we are all trained to devote our lives to men.”3 That is, by becoming a mother, Padmé has automatically cast herself into a role of oppression, according to this view.
While this criticism has some teeth in the feminist dialogue, its use against Padmé involves an unfounded failure in judgment. The stereotypical, oppressive role that a woman must fulfill in becoming a mother, as described by Dworkin, has no basis when it comes to the former queen of Naboo. The criticism of motherhood as Padmé's primary role is based on a distorted vision of what she's accomplished up to that point.
The fact that Padmé Amidala is Luke and Leia's mother doesn't make her a stereotypical caricature of femininity. At the conclusion of The Second Sex, Beauvoir ruminates on an ideal future in which “motherhood would be freely chosen,” as it is in Padmé's case. Just like anything else that she's accomplished, being a mother is a part of her story, not the whole of it. She's still the woman who fought against the Trade Federation and called for a vote of “no confidence” in Chancellor Valorum in the Galactic Senate.
The most important feminist issue raised by Leia's presence in the original trilogy is sexuality. While a social perspective on sex and sexual identity is integral to feminist dialogue, its real power is what it wields over an individual. An individual's place within the sexual spectrum, and therefore their place in relation to everyone else, other sexual identities, and social institutions, becomes a characteristic part of what makes them who they are. Sexuality, however, has been used as an oppressive tool for centuries. When Leia is held captive in Jabba the Hutt's court, wearing the infamous gold bikini, she becomes a representative of the power of female sexuality. Because her outfit also involves a neck-chain attached to a crime boss, her situation is blatantly oppressive. Does this render Leia merely a token of sexual objectification?
Certainly not! Even when chained to Jabba, Leia exerts command over her sexuality. While both Han and Jabba – in quite different ways – attempt to gain control over Leia's sexuality, she accepts neither of them. She intentionally got herself into Jabba's company to help Han. Once captured, she uses her sexuality to exploit the situation, placing herself in a position to kill Jabba with her own chain at the opportune moment. In The Empire Strikes Back, Leia asserts her sexuality when she kisses Luke in front of Han as a means of subverting Han's claim over her:
| HAN: | [with a smug smile] You didn't see us alone in the south passage. She expressed her true feelings for me. |
| LEIA: | [just before kissing Luke] Well I guess you don't know everything about women yet. |
By keeping command of this aspect of her life – though it's only one part of her experience – Leia retains strength despite the challenges she faces. Of course, Leia eventually gives into Han's charms, but she does so on her terms.
This brings up another stereotype that seems to plague Leia: the lovelorn damsel as shown through her devotion to Han. While the spice-running scoundrel might not be everyone's idea of a suitable mate, he is the Princess's – and that's all that really matters. Similarly, one of the major complaints about Padmé is the nature of her relationship with Anakin. While it's necessary for them to be together sexually to produce the twins, their relationship isn't the highest exemplar of a functioning marriage. Both of them even recognize at the outset of their courtship that a secret marriage “would destroy us.” But should the fact that Padmé is married be a defining criticism of her character? Can Leia be in love and still be a strong woman?
For an answer, we can turn back to Beauvoir, an unabashed proponent of female sexuality, who yet provides an interesting insight on love:
On the day when it will be possible for woman to love not in her weakness but in her strength, not to escape herself but to find herself, not to abase herself but to assert herself – on that day love will become for her, as for man, a source of life and not of mortal danger.4
Anakin's dependence on Padmé isn't a source of abuse for him on the dark side of the force, so why should the inverse be true? When Han brazenly attempts to rescue Leia, his place as a masculine hero is never brought into question. Just the same, the love these women have is a source of strength for them, not weakness. The fact that Leia goes out of her way to rescue Han from Jabba is one of Leia's defining feminist functions: in a dramatic turn of events, the princess saves the rogue! She thus singlehandedly turns the “damsel in distress” dynamic on its head. Her mother shows similar strength when facing execution in the Geonosian arena. Chained with Padmé and Obi-Wan to huge posts as vicious beasts slowly approach, Anakin displays his misplaced chivalrous chauvinism:
| OBI-WAN: | Just relax, concentrate. |
| ANAKIN: | What about Padmé? |
| OBI-WAN: | She seems to be on top of things. |
Not needing two Jedi warriors to rescue her, Padmé had freed herself from her chains and climbed to the top of the post, ready to battle the razor-clawed nexu coming for her.
Betty Friedan, a cornerstone of Second Wave feminism, famously states in her book, The Feminine Mystique: “You can have it all, just not all at the same time.”5 Friedan intends this exhortation for individual women, assuring them that there are various stages to their lives' fulfillment. This idea also summarizes the real problem with women in Star Wars. When any figure is presented as strong, they can be easily torn open by some sort of ill-placed criticism: Leia is too sexualized, Padmé is just a vessel of motherhood, and Shmi Skywalker doesn't fight Watto to go with Anakin. The problem is that, as Friedan suggests, we can't “have it all” with any of these women. Yet, we keep trying to find that perfect feminist role model in the media.
Since Leia is the only major female character within the original trilogy, her decisions can be seen as representative depictions of women overall. Moreover, anything she does unwisely or poorly – like blowing up Jabba's sail barge with innocent slaves still inside – sends a message about all women. If there were greater representation of women, however, there wouldn't be a problem with evaluating Leia as an individual character versus Leia as a representative of women overall. Even Mon Mothma's wisdom isn't enough to take the focus away from Leia in the original trilogy because her part is relatively miniscule.6
Let's consider a reversal of this situation for some context. Imagine that all the characters in everyone's favorite space opera are female except one: Han Solo. Luke Skywalker becomes Lucy Skywalker, Lando Calrissian becomes Lindsay Calrissian, and Darth Vader is Dorothy Vader. Everything about the plot and interactions between the characters remains the same, except for how Han is able to relate to the universe around him. Rather than being one example of many men, he now typifies a kind of “male essence” in the story. Anything he does is the sole exemplar of male behavior. So, when Han shoots Greedo (now Gretta), it makes all men look impulsive and violent. When Han tells Leia she could “use a good kiss,” all men look oppressively chauvinistic.
Every one of the women in Star Wars has her own flaws, but that's part of what makes them such good feminists. If any of them were “perfect,” they would appear both above the need for relationships with the other characters and impractical as objects of the audience's interest. If any of them were the “whole package” of feminist ideals, they'd be unrealistic and unrepresentative of any sort of real experience of womanhood. So while it's reasonable that women should be able to “have it all,” this won't be attainable by any single person at any single time. Ultimately, Star Wars gives us a handful of excellent leaders who are strong women. But they are relegated to the fringes of their own society, and they are simply too few in number to represent accurately women as a whole.
Furthermore, the women of Star Wars are actually extremely marginalized. It just happens that the women who do get our attention occupy the kind of margin we can look at and say, “Well that's not so bad, is it? She gets to be a queen!” But the fact that Padmé and Leia are important political figures appears to be the only reason that they are even able to have a say in anything that happens. Other than royalty, how many speaking roles do women have in the six movies? In the original trilogy, there are only six women who speak. Period. Leia, a princess, constitutes one-sixth of the speaking roles for women in these movies. In the prequels, there are fourteen other than Padmé Amidala. While that number still isn't great, it's certainly better.
But the important issue is that Leia and Padmé are allowed to speak more than anyone else because of their position. Both of them are verbally clever and are frequently quoted by fans. I'd bet that when Leia or Padmé are mentioned, your mind recalls such classics as “Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?” and “So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause.” Now call to mind one of Shmi's lines. How about Aunt Beru's? There's a good chance you can't, which is fair, because you're not really meant to. You're really only supposed to pay attention to these “important” women in the male protagonists' lives. In this way, Padmé and Leia have become yet another stereotype – the affluent few. They are both royalty and are, therefore, inherently important regardless of their gender. They're separated from the rest of women because of their position, causing another schism in the sisterhood of the Force.
As a result, Padmé and Leia are put in the position of being mouthpieces for womankind, despite there being several degrees of separation between their social situation and the rest of the women populating the Star Wars galaxy. Leia and Padmé can't accurately voice the needs of different species and classes, considering the alienation from everyday life they experience as high-ranking members of the social echelon – even when traveling with Anakin in disguise “as refugees,” Padmé wears fine clothing with an elaborate headdress while Anakin lugs around two large suitcases that presumably aren't filled with dozens of his Jedi robes. But these individual women shouldn't have to bear the burden of representing all women.
Most of the other women in the Star Wars saga, despite their potential to be strong women themselves, are never given a chance to express their strength. Aunt Beru raises Luke to become a hero. Shmi deftly maneuvered her life as not only a single mother but also a slave on remote Tatooine. Mon Mothma not only was a senator, but also openly defied Emperor Palpatine and eventually became the first Chief of State of the New Republic and a mentor to Leia. Were any of these women allowed more than a few lines, undoubtedly we'd truly see their strength. Were they given a voice, they would be feminist role models.
But, as always, there is hope. Let's not forget about our courageous handmaidens, Sabé, Cordé, and Dormé. Unlike Padmé and Leia, they present dynamic figures without relying on the trappings of royalty and influence. Yes, they sometimes dress as the queen and act in her stead, but they have no actual authority. Yet, they're still featured as women worth looking up to. They're resilient and clever. They fearlessly stand in for the Queen of Naboo, and Cordé even gives her life in the other woman's stead. These handmaidens stand as silent but ready sentinels while Padmé holds court on Naboo, reaching out of the margins and bridging the gap between the royal women of Star Wars and others who might someday speak.
The problem for any strong woman, no matter who she is or when she lives, is the social situation in which she makes her life. Caitlin Moran writes of this struggle:
For throughout history, you can read the stories of women who – against all the odds – got being a woman right, but ended up being compromised, unhappy, hobbled or ruined, because all around them, society was still wrong. Show a girl a pioneering hero – Sylvia Plath, Dorothy Parker, Frida Kahlo, Cleopatra, Boudicca, Joan of Arc – and you also, more often than not, show a girl a woman who was eventually crushed.7
Context matters. No matter how wonderful a feminist figure is, her effectiveness and legacy can be sustained only if the society around her allows this to happen. Leia can only be a true heroine of our story if audiences accept her as one. Padmé can only lead us to the light side if we follow her. Sabé, Cordé, and Dormé can give voice to the marginalized women of the galaxy only if we listen.
The women of Star Wars are tough-as-nails and aren't afraid to show it, if they're given a chance. Taken individually, they offer just as much as any of the individual male characters. They're strong, witty, and certainly a “Force” to be reckoned with. But their numbers are few, and they dwell on the margins of society. Perhaps the next great battle in that galaxy so far, far away will be that of the women, fighting their way to equality behind a tactician queen, a warrior princess, and a resourceful handmaiden.