Hermione Granger is an icon. She raised us, as any literary sister should, to be brave, loyal, strong, and fiercely intelligent. As we grew, so did she, educating us on friendship, young love, high school drama, and what it means to bring light in the darkness, skills we have all had to use at points in our own lives. But Hermione Granger is flawed. Anybody with an interest in media analysis can see it. She rejects stereotypical femininity until it is convenient to the plot. The type of girl smart enough to keep away from love triangles until it suits the narrative around her. One of the boys, in the plainest sense of the word, until puberty hits and her male friends start realizing she’s a girl, triggering two books worth of fighting for that position.
There are other women in the books we hail as heroes. Minerva Mcgonagall, intelligent, witty, strict at times, but ferociously protective of her school and students. Molly Weasley, the balm to all of Harry Potter’s maternal issues and an excellent fighter to boot. And of course Ginny Weasley, the athlete, the tomboy, the dueler, and yet somehow always gorgeous enough to have half the male students drooling over her by book 4. In the same vain, there are characters in the series whom we are supposed to see with contempt. Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil, fans of divination, butterfly clips, and necklaces that read ‘my sweetheart’. They are the frivolous girls, too vain and air headed to understand what the boys in the story won’t let alone the gravity of the situation once Voldemort returns. Fleur Delacour as well, while being accomplished enough to make her way through all three tri-wizard tournament trials, and earn the fascination and love of Bill Wealsey, is whispered about and mocked by the other Weasleys and Hermione simply for the way she talks, walks, and looks. Fleur only earns the respect of the family when she sticks by Bill after the attack on Bill by Fenrir Greyback, proving that she cares more about the person inside than looks. I could list a dozen more young adult fantasy novels with the same structure.
The Percy Jackson series’ Annabeth Chase, once again, intelligent, brave, and one of the boys. Who doubts and mocks the children of Aphrodite because of their interest in love and looks and equal disinterest in fighting. Only when Silena Beauregard sacrifices herself, Patroclus style, and Piper McClain bucks the Aphrodite reputation does she acknowledge that they’re not all a bunch of airheads.
And then we have the Hunger Games: while Katniss’s disdain for femininity and frivolity is more understandable given her upbringing in abject poverty, the doubtfulness she exhibits at the women of the upper districts and capitol having even basic human compassion is telling. She feels as though she has to hide her pleasure in anything feminine, from the dresses Cinna makes her, to any interest she finds in art, and even the relationships she makes with women who display more obvious femininity like Effie, because of the fear that she would seem to be giving in or going soft.
Now, I’m not here to advocate for the destruction of femininity and the need to return to classic gender roles, that’s a bunch of crap. And I’ll be the first to recognize that all the women I’ve talked about here have grown up in environments where this type of disdain has been ingrained into them. This isn’t about the characters, it’s about the writing. Our young adult fiction is filled with girls who exhibit what I like to call, the Hermione complex. True, many other fictional young women share similar traits, but Hermione was one of the first and the most well known, so she has earned namesake rights. These girls share a few key characteristics. They are loyal, brave, strong, the intellectual of the group, and usually exist to balance out a male-dominated group, therefore requiring a ‘one of the boys’ type attitude. However, these girls at some point in the story are all realized to be irresistibly gorgeous, effortlessly perfect, and the ideal love interest because of the mix of her masculine character and feminine romantic appeal. Here’s where it becomes insidious: the girls who put effort into how they look, who actively pursue a relationship instead of waiting for the boys to notice they exist, the ones who don’t find it demeaning to enjoy dresses, makeup, and romance, they are the characters the story ridicules. In doing this, whether intentionally or not, young adult authors have created an impossible double standard. If you’re attractive and friends with boys, eventually they’ll notice you and fall in love. But as soon as you start to put effort into that attractiveness, when your interests drift too far into the feminine, you deserve to be the object of ridicule. Mascara does not glue your eyes shut, dresses don’t immobilize you, and having interests outside of the cold hard facts doesn’t make you frivolous or stupid. If the only way a boy will love you is if you conform to his perfect ideal of what a girlfriend should be instead of your authentic self, then he doesn’t deserve to date you.
In the past decade or so a new wave of young adult fantasy has slowly been chipping away at this double standard. My personal favorite is the Shadow Hunter Chronicles. In the novels Isabelle Lightwood, Clary Fray, Tessa Gray, Emma Blackthorn, and a dozen other women all exhibit different and valid ways to be real strong women. Izzy delights in lipstick and flings while being an accomplished fighter, Tessa is one of the best shadow hunters of her age all while juggling two true loves and life as a woman in Victorian England, and Clary’s love of art and ability to create makes her one of the most powerful characters in the series. Not a single girl is shamed because of the way she dresses or her personal interests and even the men like freewheeling bisexual Magnus Bane partake in traditionally feminine interests like fashion all while being insanely powerful and fighting for the fate of the world. Young adult fiction and fantasy is read by millions of people around the world and it has influenced our pop culture for decades. It is our job, both as readers and writers, not to fall victim to toxic double standards and advocate for realistic, complex female characters who portray that there’s more than one way to be a strong female character.