Men written by women have recently become a central topic of discussion. Chivalric, emotionally intelligent men with nerdy glasses and curly hair who are educated about politics and feminism (I might just be describing my type, but whatever). As opposed to the famous Kabir Singh, or dare I say Arjun Reddy. God knows who wrote this jet-red flag of a character that makes yelling his personality trait. Fans of toxic masculinity, please don’t come after me. I don’t make the rules. But ask yourself and be honest—Mr. Darcy, Theodore Laurence ‘Laurie’, Rana from Piku—are these characters not better, more emotionally evolved than whatever the hell that psychotic, lovesick doctor was? Men written by women is a genre in itself, and I love the attention it’s getting. But, there is one more genre that I adore, which is not talked about enough—women written by women. Because let’s be honest, a lot of times women written by men are not very realistic (definitely not talking about Khaled Hosseini—”A Thousand Splendid Suns” is a piece of art and everyone should read it).
I have read many female characters written by women like—Scout Finch in To Kill A Mockingbird, Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, Esther Greenwood in The Bell Jar, Celie and Nettie in The Color Purple. All of them have a striking personality that leaves a lasting impression. Their characters are not just defined by how they look or dress, but by their actions and thought processes, how they deal with grief, as well as growing up in a patriarchal world. Their resistance to being curbed by societal norms and their ability to love deeply despite these challenges allow the reader to understand their strengths and resilience. But that doesn’t mean these women are perfect.
They have flaws and weaknesses, much like ours, and that’s what makes them so relatable. Scout’s impulsiveness to act makes her pick up fights at school; some can be justified, others cannot. Like how she was about to punch Cecil Jacobs. Now, who doesn’t want to punch a boy in the face when they act like a racist imbecile? Esther’s character is trapped in a psychological turmoil of striving for perfection. Her perfectionism and impossibly high expectations lead her to feel like a failure. Elizabeth lets her prejudices get the better of her. Her bias against aristocratic pride and wealth makes her think that the upper class is morally inferior and arrogant. She takes pride in her discernment, which leads her to believe that her opinions are correct, even when they’re based on incomplete information.
Women like these remind me of Jo’s meltdown in Little Women after Beth’s death: ”Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they’ve got ambition, and they’ve got talent, as well as just beauty. I’m so sick of people saying that love is all a woman is fit for.” This dialogue sums up how frustrating it can get when women are expected to fall in love with a man and make their entire life revolve around their unbreakable bond. I’m not against romance, don’t get me wrong. I just feel there’s more to the life of a woman than just that. These stories matter because they remind women that their lives can be fulfilling, complex, and meaningful, with or without romance. Because, in today’s world, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman need not be looking for a single man in possession of a good fortune.