And Now For Something Completely Awesome
Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra are both on Netflix now, and I watched them both all the way through with Chris.
I’m aware that there are issues, particularly with Korra and the Westernisation of it all (especially Republic City), but I heartily enjoyed the 20s vibe of it all. There are also issues with the villains often making good points about societal problems (well-written villains, yay) that don’t really get dealt with (oopsy).
Both shows are really well written, beautifully animated, and you know what? Not even a tiny bit rapey! I especially liked the final season, which begins with Korra utterly destroyed physically and psychologically. A powerful woman having to rebuild herself from total weakness? As a disabled A-type person, that means a lot—especially the fact that it doesn’t happen quickly, and she goes into the climax not knowing if she can even win a fight against a single human person.
But today is my birthday, and the best thing about today is that, last night, I watched the very last episode of Korra.
SPOILERS!! Go watch every episode of both shows. I’ll wait 🙂
Here’s the final scene:
And here is a video compilation of various people reacting to that scene:
The finale of Korra first aired in December 2014. A little over six years ago. There are so many people outright weeping in the above video. Some of them are weeping in utter delight, and some of them weep a long while before the moment when Korra and Asami hold hands—weeping in pain, knowing that a beautiful, healthy, respectful girl-on-girl relationship couldn’t possibly happen. Especially in a children’s show, because gay people are considered dirty and perverse.
And then it happens, and it’s real, and it’s almost like a gay relationship is not dirty or shameful at all, but a beautiful and happy ending to a beautiful show. Then they cry even more.
Others fall on the floor, scream, and swear. There are two moments in the above video that really get me:
The woman who says, “Did that really happen? I’m just going to rewind it.”
I didn’t believe my eyes either. I turned to Chris and said, “That was gay, right?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Korrassami. Totally gay. You really didn’t know about this?”
I shake my head.
“Thank goodness I didn’t accidentally spoil it for you.”
Indeed.
I was lucky; I avoided a lot of stress because I was able to watch both shows in a relatively short time span, without comparing notes to other new viewers in real time. That also meant I wasn’t discussing what I thought would happen with anyone. It was only in the last couple of episodes that I thought, “Hold on, Korra doesn’t have a love interest.” I winced, thinking she might end up back with Mako (even though their relationship clearly didn’t work) or Bolin (even worse), and then I thought, “Okay, so she gets to be a strong independent woman. Cool.”
Then, to my absolute amazement and delight, she instead got together—quietly, with barely a word spoken—with the character who was absolutely the most suited to her. And, although the showrunners didn’t get permission to have them kiss on screen (and weren’t able to lead up to it in obvious ways), it was very clear that these two beautiful women were now in a romantic relationship.
Which brings me to the second reaction from the above video that broke my heart in the best possible way.
In amongst all the swearing and “Oh my God”s, one woman says, “Jesus loves me this I know”. It’s the first verse of a Sunday School song popular with the teachers of very young children:
Jesus loves me this I know
For the Bible tells me so
Little ones to Him belong
They are weak but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.
It is absolutely heartbreaking that two fictional girls holding hands could possibly make a person feel, in an unguarded moment, like maybe Jesus really does love her after all.
Six years later, there are way more examples of healthy, happy, gay relationships in both fiction and real life. I’ve written and published a bunch myself. And if one of my stories makes another queer person feel, even just for a moment, that maybe Jesus DOES love them after all. . . then happy birthday me.
Today is a good day.
PS I am now reading roughly 1,000,000 internet articles about Korra, and I’m reminded that Bolin kissed someone who was DEFINITELY not into him, back in Season 1. Not okay, Bolin. Even you are not that dumb.
PPS Also, there were loads of hints about Korrasami throughout the entire show, but I didn’t register them because I assumed they were both straight. Silly me 🙂
To Sir Phillip, Get Lost You Creep
Finally I’m up to Book 5, aka To Sir Phillip With Love aka the one about Eloise, at last.
Spoilers.
Also, content warning: depression, suicide, sex, childbirth, and rape.
No. Stop. Burn it. Burn them all.
Oh, this SUCKS. This sucks so much, it turns all previous non-sucky moments into pure suckitude.
Julia Quinn, what is WRONG with you?
Rest of the world, WHY did you buy these books?
The love interest is an actual, literal rapist. THIS is who intelligent, feminist Eloise is meant to live with? THIS is her happily ever after?
No.
Every single book in this series is just so rapey, but this one is worst of all.
There are ameliorating circumstances, to a limited extent. The rape happens when Sir Phillip’s first wife, who was always badly depressed, is even more depressed after giving birth to twins. Sir Phillip waits until he’s sure that she’s physically recovered from the birth* and then goes and has sex with her. Although she “doesn’t say no” it is “like having sex with a corpse” and he’s so sickened by the whole thing that he throws up afterwards, and then doesn’t have sex for eight years.
In case it’s not obvious, she is too depressed (and too aware of her “marital duties”—sadly women often WERE raped by their husbands, and still are today) to say no to him. But obviously, it’s still rape.
One of the most icky tropes plays out through this book: the idea that women are a strange exotic species that can’t possibly be understood by men.
It’s not romantic, it’s lazy. And it is directly linked to “grey rape” scenarios like the above, where the man supposedly doesn’t know he’s raping someone.
Even though he’s having sex with (or rather ‘at’) someone who is as responsive as, to quote the text again, “a corpse”.
How long did he spend thrusting into his completely dry wife? We know he had an orgasm.
It is perfectly obvious when a woman is not into having sex with you. Any decent man knows that sex hurts for a woman if she’s not at least a little turned on. (Which begs the question of how many other times he used her like a blow-up doll in the past.) If you have sex, you make sure that the woman is ready before you penetrate her. EVERY decent human does that. Every time. She doesn’t even have to say anything. Her breath might quicken, she may give you a sexy look. She may open her legs.
It’s. Not. Rocket. Science.
It’s also not a modern invention. Yes, women have had it worse in historical times. But we’ve still had good and bad sex, and known the difference—and shown the difference in our behaviour, our words, and how we relate to our menfolk the rest of the time (shrinking away in horror? Avoiding him? Or seeking him out, touching him as we pass, exchanging secret we-totally-had-sex smiles across a crowded room).
So don’t give me “historical accuracy”. Jane Austen somehow managed never to be rapey, not even a little bit.
But in every book, Quinn emphasises how big and tall the men are; how strong—which is all fine—and how they use their superior strength and status (as men, as husbands, as rich people, as a higher class) to intimidate the women they ‘love’—which is not.
Clearly Quinn thinks that a man threatening to rape his wife is sexy. Apparently she even thinks a decent man could rape his wife, get his orgasm, and all the while not realise that he’s raping her.
No.
I understand that there’s an appealing element to a strong, powerful man who totally could rape or kill or financially ruin a woman, and never ever will. But it’s not okay for a man to deliberately loom over a woman in an argument. That’s step one on the road to physical abuse (it starts with scaring her with a load voice or scary posture, then he breaks physical objects to intimidate her, then he physically hurts her).
So I won’t be reading any more Bridgerton books.
(It’s worth mentioning that Daphne rapes Simon in both Book 1 and in the TV show’s Season 1. It’s slightly less cut and dried in the TV series… more like theft of his sperm, but at a very vulnerable moment that should have been sacred and loving. But it’s still using sex to gain power over another person. I forgave it in part because it was still physically possible for him to stop her, and it was clearly a one-off. Also he refused to have sex with her after that, which was rational. They didn’t have sex again until trust was restored.)
And yes, the character of Eloise was absolutely unrecognisable. It was almost better that way, because the alternative was to say that she “grew up” and that’s why she didn’t want to go to university or rail against the plight of women any more.
Sigh.
I’m so angry, and depressed, and scared. Scared because this whole rapey/power thing is considered okay, which it is NOT.
The good news is that I’m working on a story set in the Regency Era myself, and anger is a great motivator for creating better art.
*As someone who’s had kids, the first time after sex is a big deal and needs a lot of discussion before, during and afterwards. If you’re a man, try using a cheese grater on your genitals and then see how you feel about your sex life. (Even when it’s healed, it’ll never be the same.)
Romancing Mister Bridgerton
Did I like it?
Yes.
Was it rapey?
Fundamentally, no.
This was a good book! Yay!
The author also avoided having her main couple commit violence on anyone/each other, AND she avoided the phrase “ancient rhythm”. So congratulations to her. The only truly annoying thing (which has, sadly most definitely been taken up by the TV show) is the use of “indeed”. It gets thrown onto the end of sentences willy-nilly and is annoying.
On the other hand, having, like, been a teenager in, like, the 90s… I should probably, like, admit that meaningless words do tend to breed when left unchecked. And not just in, like, fiction.
On to Eloise! Will the most interesting character be reduced to a heteronormative cliche?
Let’s find out. . .
An Offer From A Gentleman: ugh or ooh?
I was disappointed to note that this book is about Benedict, because I’m hanging out to read Eloise’s story (mainly because she doesn’t want to marry and does want to go to university and I’m terrified to see her spirit crushed into the “hetero marriage and many many babies” mould… I’m desperately hoping I don’t hate her story even more than I hated the second book in the series).
On to Book 3!
Spoilers, darling!
Benedict is the artist of the family. It’s a little ironic that he’s a tad depressed at being largely interchangeable with his brothers, when the characters of the brothers tend to be largely interchangeable within the text too. (I’m being a little mean, there’s at least one adjective that sets each brother apart: The oldest is the oldest; Benedict is an artist; Colin is funny—ooh, and he likes to travel. That’s two things.
Book 3 is 100% a Cinderella story, and it adapts very well into the Regency setting. Also, Benedict is attracted to the heroine because of her joy.
Thus, the entire first half of the book is genuinely good.
The author even manages to refrain from describing vigorous sex with the phrase “ancient rhythm” (although I’ll certainly report any further uses of that phrase, as she’s still using it an average of once per book). It felt sufficiently different to the first two books that it was worth bothering to read—mainly because the heroine was in a VERY different class, which meant all their interactions were a lot freer than in the other books.
Except… in their very first interaction, Benedict believed the heroine was of the same class as him, and he took her to a private balcony and kissed her which…. huh? We’ve spent two books talking about how women of that class will be ruined forever if they’re alone in a room with a man. So either Benedict is a right a-hole, or the author got a bit bored of intense glances across a ballroom and decided to rush into the hanky panky this time. Which, for the sake of novelty, I shall forgive. None of us are actually living in Regency times, and we’re not in this for the historical accuracy.
No one got accidentally OR accidentally-on-purpose forced into marriage, which was nice for a change. They even had sex before marriage, which—again, for the sake of variety, I would forgive (especially since she actually bled slightly, so points for realism there). . .
except
once again, things got rapey.
*sigh*
The ‘offer’ of the title seems to be Benedict’s offer to graciously invite the heroine to become his mistress.
What a . . . gentleman.
The heroine vehemently refuses him, many many times (he’s all like, “But… so much MONEY?!?! Don’t you GET IT? Are you just stupid?”) She is not at all being coy. Yes, she’s a virgin. She’s also a bastard, which is 100% why her life sucks. She is determined not to do that to her own kids.
And, although it’s not spelled out in the text, a mistress is in an extremely precarious position. She’s wealthy only so long as the man who likes having on-tap sex continues to find her convenient. So if she gets old, or sick, or he marries… she’s suddenly lost everything. Being wealthy and dependent on a fickle man is better than having nothing at all, but it IS basically a step above high-class prostitute. Which is fine if that’s your choice. It very clearly isn’t hers.
But Benedict picks at her and picks at her, cajoles her and threatens her. He refuses to let her find her own employment, and instead literally forces her into his mother’s household. Yes, it’s a fantastic workplace… except he lives on the same street and actively stalks her around the house, waiting for her in dark corners and popping up the second she’s alone, etc.
You know, like the slimy and awful male progeny of all the worse households of this era (and this specific book). He is physically strong, wealthy, influential… she is completely at his mercy, and even though she tries over and over and over and over again to avoid him (and anyplace he might show up) he makes himself impossible to avoid.
So he doesn’t technically assault her, but he 100% definitely harasses her, traps her, stalks her, and makes her entire life a misery.
(She also gets nearly gang-raped by a previous master and his friends, which HE KNOWS but does not connect to his own lecherous behaviour in any way.)
It works out in the end, he marries her, and I forgive him. It’s not his fault he’s badly written.
But I don’t forgive the author. Did she even read this book? Does she understand what women are like?
There’s some punching-style violence by the two main characters, again. Maybe the author should be writing action heroes instead? (Witty ones; she certainly is witty.)
Girl, I get the fantasy of a wealthy man who happens to be handsome and funny and so on. No one minds getting true love and worldly riches at the same time. But when you have super powerful men constantly forcing your very innocent and powerless heroines to do what they want… that’s a rape fantasy, not a romance.
Please stop.
And don’t you dare do awful things to Eloise.
I love her, and I shudder to think what you’re going to do to her.
In all fairness to Julia Quinn, CLEARLY I’m devouring all her books so she can’t be that bad an author, can she?
Felicity Banks 