I don’t believe artists have an obligation to produce feminist work. Even feminist artists. But I’m getting tired of reading literature and seeing movies that only contribute to the stereotypes the feminist community is working so hard to dismantle.
I don’t mean to pick on you, Ms. Atwood. Cat’s Eye was written in 1989. And, sadly, you’re far from a pioneer on writing about the ways in which girls hurt each other. And you’ve written much more complex, much more responsible, much more feminist things since then; Siren Song[1] is a tiny piece of genius. But Cat’s Eye is yet another book on Mean Girls, and I am fatigued by that bullshit. Did you really need to write an entire novel about a nine year old who was contemptuous of other girls before and after she was bullied by some of her female friends? And who then spent her entire life looking down on other women? If you were writing a “slice of life” novel, congratulations. You succeeded. But why was that an important perspective to represent?
I know girls are mean to each other. Everyone knows that. Why they are mean to each other, especially in the grade school years, is the important question. But Cat’s Eye does nothing to examine why young girls might feel competitive, or pressured or even expected to be cruel to each other.
There are so many feminist issues. They may all be traceable back to sexism and misogyny at the root, but to dismantle stereotypes and truly empower women, feminists need to fight a million small battles every day. This is one of the ones I’ve chosen to tackle. Given the pervasive influence of the media, it seems essential to counterbalance this trend of women as catty, manipulative, weak and cruel*. I’m not a prize-winning author, so I’ll be waging war the only way I can: by hurling one tiny pebble of feminist reality into the seemingly endless well of trite stereotypes.
I met my best friend Kaye** in first grade. We had the same teacher, and while I don’t remember whether I noticed her on the very first day of class, her first show-and-tell presentation instantly commanded my attention. I learned three essential things about Kaye in those fateful five minutes: she was a talker, she was sharp as a tack, and she didn’t take bullshit from anybody. During her exhibition of some lovely family jewelry, she anticipated questions the class might want to ask her, and preemptively answered them for us, in an astute attempt to streamline her presentation so we could move briskly on to snack time. I was impressed by her admirable commitment to efficiency.

The beginning of a beautiful friendship. Note: Kaye is not in this picture. Other note: two of the seven children in this picture are wearing rainbow shirts. I ❤ the nineties.
We made friends in the usual way, or at least the usual way for children in a bucolic miniature town in the 90s. We were in the same short-lived Girl Scout troupe, and my mother, most likely in an attempt to civilize me by making me hang out with some Good Influences, encouraged us to play together. We discovered a ton of shared interests, like being bossy and marching around the playground with Great Purpose. Once she “saved” me from a bee. She has never let me forget how brave she was in informing the gym teacher that he needed to carry me to the nurse’s office. Also she has never let me forget that the reason I got stung in the first place is because I was pretending to be a unicorn and not paying attention to warning buzzing.
In the years between first grade and high school we were good chums, but not constant companions. Kaye had another close friend for many years who LOATHED me, and she politely split her time between us. We had some classes together, and saw each other at Harvest Festivals and Girl Scout trips and at the town pool during the summer. I’m not sure exactly how it is that Kaye and I, considering my poor social skills, her angry friend, and our lack of any organized activities to participate in together (I was sporty, she was crafty), remained solidly friends throughout the capricious elementary school years and the stressful middle-school years, but we did. If I had to guess, I’d say it was because Kaye never betrayed my initial impression of her—she was, and always has been, a smart-ass, a tough cookie, and an immensely intelligent and entertaining companion.
When we all chose instruments in fourth grade, most of the girls chose violin. Kaye chose the snare drum. Kaye was the ten year old who identified as a hippie. When we made marionettes in our English class, Kaye made Sneezy. The dwarf. Because she had nasty pollen allergies. Get it? Hilarious. Kaye was the kid who would find something creative to do with homework assignments. Kaye was the girl that none of the boys picked on because they sensed that she could not possibly have cared less if they did.
Kaye was interested in things in a way that made me want to learn about them, too. I read books after she’d finished them and raved about them, and was never disappointed. She was compassionate, a rare quality in a fifteen year old. She was one of the first people I came out to. She was smart, and fun to argue with. She was loyal. She was open-minded. She made me feel safe, and she made any gathering a party.
We stayed friends through college, writing each other long letters and shouting over each other on the phone when we could spare an hour or two. She was the maid of honor at my wedding. She was the only friend I wanted at my father’s funeral.
These days, we see each other a few times a year–she’s in medical school in another state, and I’ve got my hands full with blog-writing, volunteering, a full-time job, some ornery rabbits, and a flourishing garden. We communicate mostly by text, giving each other small (and in her case, hilarious) glimpses of our daily worlds. Sometimes I’ll walk the three miles home from work and tell her about the different gardens I pass. Sometimes she’ll call me for five minutes from a gas station to wish me well before a job interview. We rant about the patriarchy over Facebook. We send each other pictures of flowers.
My life would be much less rich, much less vibrant, much less meaningful without this friendship. It is the longest relationship I have ever had, and it means the world to me.
I didn’t come out as genderqueer, and I didn’t start living as a masculine-of-center person until I was well into college. Kaye and I were raised as girls together. We never competed for the attention of the boys in our class (Kaye turned out to be straight, I turned out to be…not…but in high school, we were both at least socially oriented towards boys). We never compared our bodies, we never shamed each other. We fought, occasionally, but it was always about some tangible thing, like an insensitive comment. There was no vitriol in our relationship.
There’s nothing inherent about girls being cruel to one another during adolescence. It’s not genetic, and it’s not specific to girls. And yet, we really seem to like to perpetuate this stupid stereotype. Simply being friends with a woman, especially as a teenager or young adult, is a feminist act.
So, I told you mine, tell me about the girl (or woman) in your life who is or has been a source of strength and inspiration to you!
*Just like Bridie plans to do in her awesome memoir, working title: Chocolate Frosting AND ALSO FEELINGS, AMIRITE LADIES?
**Name changed
Your post was thoughtful. I, too get sick of the mean girl dynamics that are showcased all the time. Drama may get a quick attention nod, but it will never last compared to those sustained relationships in life built on loyalty and respect.
(Having some trouble posting– sorry if you see this more than once!)
I have complicated feelings about this post. On the one hand, I had a Kaye of my own. (Still do.) Her name is Kate, and she’s incredible. We’ve been friends since a pre-preschool playgroup. We stuck together as friends through multiple moves, family crises, and life challenges, She’s the girl I can always call, the one who always has my back. Last weekend, she drove 500 miles to be with me for my 30th birthday. I have a couple of other fantastic long-term women friends who I adore.
That being said, for every woman like Kate in my life, I could name at least 2-3 who have treated me like every mean girl stereotype in the book. I considered suicide for the first time when I was ten years old because the girls at my elementary school were bullying me so cruelly and constantly I didn’t know what to do. When my parents explained what was happening to my teachers, they didn’t see the problem. Relational bullying wasn’t in their vocabulary. I was so lucky to have Kate, because I didn’t make another close female friend until I was twenty years old.
Until a few years ago, I saw myself as better than other women because 90% of my close friends are male, and have been since I was about thirteen. This, frankly, was a load of crap (for so many reasons), and I’m glad I realized that in my late twenties. But I still struggle to trust and to become close to women I haven’t known my whole life. I recently ended a friendship with a woman who, I eventually realized, I was allowing to treat me just like those girls in elementary school. Because that’s basically what I expect from women. Not because all or most women are like that, but because it was my experience during some pretty formative years.
You ask why the perspective Atwood presents in Cat’s Eye is important. For me, it was important because I needed to see someone else with my experience in literature. I’m not certain Atwood said anything new about girl bullying, and I absolutely agree that it would have been a better novel if she’d considered the “why” of the issue. But I saw so many odes to beautiful female friendship out there as a young adult, and it made me incredibly bitter and resentful. It was refreshing and profound to see someone talk about my experience of other women.
You say:
“Given the pervasive influence of the media, it seems essential to counterbalance this trend of women as catty, manipulative, weak and cruel*. I’m not a prize-winning author, so I’ll be waging war the only way I can: by hurling one tiny pebble of feminist reality into the seemingly endless well of trite stereotypes.”
I appreciate what you’re doing here. Overall, I actually don’t think we disagree. I absolutely believe that we need beautiful friendships like you and Kaye and me and Kate out there for everyone to see. And friendships between women should be represented more in media. But that mean girl stuff isn’t just a stereotype. It was my reality for most of my life. (Now, to get the media to stop sensationalizing it, and start showing it for the incredibly painful and soul-killing behavior it is.)
Wow…sorry that turned into a blog post of its own!
Thank you so much for sharing your story/perspective with me. I am sorry that you encountered such cruelty from other women and girls. I am aware that it happens. I had close girl friends turn on me suddenly (one close friend abruptly stopped speaking to me at my 12th birthday party and has refused to talk to me since), and I’ve been teased by girls. I never meant to suggest that it doesn’t happen, or that it isn’t a problem.
My essential complaints are:
1. We sensationalize girl on girl bullying. In reality, *kids* are mean to each other, and especially in this age of the internet/social media, boys are using some of the more “traditionally female” ways of being mean with relish. But even in the nineties, boys were being catty. Of all the rumors that were spread about me in middle school, 100% were started by boys. But instead of saying “Oh, maybe we should work on instilling compassion in children,” we say “girls are mean.”
2 a. I have legitimately no idea what you’re referring to when you say “But I saw so many odes to beautiful female friendship out there as a young adult.” I am a voracious reader, and when I talked about your comment with my girlfriend, the only book we could come up with that was about female friendship and didn’t have romance with a boy as a *central* theme in the book was “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” And ONLY the first one. The second two are messes. Now that I’m thinking about it further, I can think of another book, “Feeling Sorry for Celia.” That’s a grand total of two. The movies are even worse. Even Bridesmaids, which was the closest thing to a mainstream female buddy movie, like, ever, centered on a wedding. Because you can’t tell a story about female friendship without it somehow coming back to heterosexual romance. (Not that I’m hating on Bridesmaids–like I said, not everything has to be feminist, and this movie rocked and broke a ton stereotypes into little pieces.)
2 b.I believe media shapes culture, and our media is overwhelmingly about women being unable to be nice to each other. It’s important for our individual experiences to be represented in literature (hello, gay section of Barnes and Noble!), but it’s also important that our popular entertainment not perpetuate lazy stereotypes or harmful portrayals.
3. “Girls are mean” *is* a stereotype. It can be a reality and a stereotype at the same time! For example, we have this stereotype that black people are all welfare recipients. That stereotype has some truth in it, in that some black people receive federal benefits. But is it helpful for us to perpetuate this stereotype, even considering that it’s true in many cities? Absolutely not. It’s the same with the “Mean Girls” thing. It’s real, it happens, but it’s not even remotely close to universally true, and insisting that it is only normalizes the behavior.
If I have a little girl someday and a bunch of other little girls are shitty to her, I am going to listen to her, and hold her, and try to help her find comfort and peace in other friendships/avenues, but I am NOT going to tell her that “girls are mean.” Making generalizations about groups of people is a. always inaccurate by definition, and b. the quickest way to make sure people get *used* to the anti-social behavior, instead of viewing it as NOT the norm, and therefore trying to change it.