I am the product of the media I consume. My personality, preferences and dreams are intrinsically linked to the (fictional) people who have become some of my life’s greatest influencers. I watch a lot of television and movies, and when I dream of my future, I see bits and pieces of this perfect life that has been sold to me since I was a kid. Growing up, I had no interest in Disney princesses, and my mother hardly encouraged me to watch anything that had no educational or creative merit. I always thought of myself as better than the other girls because I preferred the fantasy world that came from Indiana Jones, Doctor Who, Merlin and the X Files. I loved the adventure, the universes and the way that women seemed to be able to hold their own. In reality, the effect of my television shows was exactly the same as any of those princess movies. As I have grown and worked to build my life to match the perfect, exciting, fictional ones I watched, I have come to realize that the life expected by every valued and beautiful woman is not necessarily the one I will live in, nor the one I am entitled to.
I’ve never been particularly ‘girly’. That is to say, I have never fulfilled the gender-normative stereotype that dictates that women fawn over men. I’ve been keen on celebrities, but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I stumbled into what has become my first real case of puppy love. From the moment that I saw him across the room, I knew I had a real problem on my hands. He makes my chest ache and my stomach flip. He is handsome, clever, and every time I am around him I melt into a blathering, useless puddle. I’ve had boyfriends before, but I realize now that I never really, truly liked any of them. I was just going through the motions. I’ve always been the object pursued: cold, gracious and flattered by attention, never the one that was essentially head over heels. I’m terrified. The women I have grown up idolizing were always surrounded by admirers. They’d never Facebook stalk someone, or spend all night analyzing a single conversation they shared with the man of their dreams- the women I grew up watching on TV were always admired in return.
He is never going to like me back, and nothing I ever watched could prepare me for this feeling. The aching worthlessness that accompanies a one-sided fantasy. There is no female version of Duckie. No woman on screen can be beautiful and still not the object of attraction. If a woman is overlooked, and her affections ignored, it’s because she’s plain, or loud, or evil. I have been taught, inadvertently, to bind my self-esteem to the way I am perceived by others, to the way that men respond to me. I can’t think of a strong female character that exists without a love interest, as if her strength is somehow increased or validated by the fact that she is desired. To be desired is to be affirmed. So what is to be done when he doesn’t like you back? Who are you if your affections will never be returned? Would the princess still be magical if the prince never loved her back? Would Rose Tyler have mattered at all if the Doctor didn’t love her in return? Would Dana Scully still be a strong woman if her love for Fox Mulder was unrequited? Can I still respect myself if he doesn’t want me?
Yes. Because the idea that my validity as a person is bound to the way I am perceived is one that I must outgrow. Because while fictional women get the affirmation of fictional men to prove that they are perfect, I don’t need proof, because I’m not. I will continue to pine after him, but I can’t allow my yearning to be desired to overtake my growth as a person. I will only truly be happy with myself when I am someone who can smile in the face of her own reflection…when my self worth is tied up in my achievements and not in the collective perception of them.