Yeah, I'm a little belligerent about the topic of Twilight. I think it's gotten a bad rap, and the movies didn't help. (Sorry, Stephenie, but they were an awful interpretation of your story.) I'm not one of the Edward-swooners (Team Jacob!), but I was never in it for the romance--I was in it for the story. And what an incredible story it was.
It got even better with Breaking Dawn. I know that's not a lot of people's favorite book of the series, but it stood out to me for this reason--Bella came into herself, fulfilled her potential COMPLETELY, not when she became a vampire, but when she became a mother. For a maternal feminist like me, that was an incredible journey to be a part of, even if just as a reader.
So, without further ado, here is the paper I wrote in defense of Bella and presented in 2011 at the Life, the Universe, and Everything symposium in Provo, Utah (publication of those proceedings, including my paper, is imminent).
Bella
as Mother-Savior:
The
Powerful Feminine Journey of Transformation and Choice in The
Twilight Saga
By
Karie
Crawford
3
January 2011
The Twilight
Saga, authored by Stephenie Meyer, seems to have taken the world by
storm. From the hordes of teenage girls hooked from the very first
book by perfect, adoring, sparkly Edward Cullen; to the moms
indulging in escapism and pure romance; to the new fans drawn in by
the movies (and some would say Taylor Lautner’s well-defined,
often-revealed abs); this paranormal romance has triggered a
female-driven entertainment juggernaut. But every surge has its
backlash and Twilight
is no exception. I’ve encountered at least one young adult blogger
(Clift, November 29, 2009) who admitted to being ashamed of her
Twilight
fandom, to the point of making extremely negative claims about the
books’ effects on romantic relationships in future generations. She
is not alone, as a quick scan of the comments in Entertainment
Weekly’s Twilight
articles immediately highlights the division among consumers of pop
culture (see Glieberman, ‘Eclipse,’ July 2, 2010).
The
arguments against the Twilight Saga include many of Bella Swan’s
seemingly anti-feminist qualities: she is a “good” daughter
through domestic servitude, she subsumes her character in deference
to romantic hero Edward Cullen, she remains with Edward despite his
repeatedly articulated desire to kill her, and she accepts his
controlling behaviors as protectiveness. All in all, it would seem
that Bella Swan’s very creation and acceptance into society has set
the feminist movement back 100 years! But is this the case? Or can it
be argued that a society conditioned to accept the male hero journey
as the only allowable story form is reacting negatively against a
powerfully feminine
story? Is Bella as submissive as she seems, or is there more to it?
According
to the literary theory guide, The
Critical Experience,
the crux of feminist criticism is to end the subordination of women
in literature (Houston, p. 214). The author of the article points out
that classical psychology often presented women as the problem. Ergo,
a feminist reading of any book should ask some vital questions: Is
the heroine subordinated or is she allowed freedom of choice? Is she
one-dimensional or is she allowed to pursue her uniquely feminine
journey, including the right to bear children if she so desires? Is
she the problem or the solution to the crisis? What of the other
females in the story—how are they treated? How are the men
portrayed?
Also,
in describing the feminine journey, it is imperative to define what
it means to be feminist. Stephenie Meyer herself states her belief
that “the foundation of feminism is this: being able to choose. The
core of anti-feminism is . . . taking away a woman’s choice because
of her gender” (stepheniemeyer.com). In addition, Kathryn Rabuzzi,
author of Motherself,
a definitive work on the feminine journey, states,
“To
be forced into that role [motherhood] against your will because
andocentric thought declares motherhood to be “woman’s destiny”
is deplorable. Equally deplorable, however, is the reverse notion
that only women who engage in careers and relinquish motherhood are
leading worthwhile, liberated lives.” (p. 4)
The
second, supposedly feminist, viewpoint is imprisoning and
patriarchal—it does not value the natural biology of women.
“Indeed, it rejects women’s birthright in favor of the right to
do what men do” (Rabuzzi, p. 4). Why is doing what men do “better”?
Feminism as defined as being equal to men and rejecting our own
function as inferior is most emphatically not feminism. Valuing our
natural biology and accepting that our paths and our stories are
legitimate and that our stories are of equal importance to men’s
stories—that is feminism. Having the right to make our own
choices—freely—that is feminism.
The
Character of Bella—How Does She Fit into Feminism?
Throughout
the Twilight
series, Bella’s overarching desire is to protect her loved ones
from danger. In the first three books, lacking supernatural powers,
Bella chooses to use the only power she has—martyrdom. In Twilight,
she willingly meets with the hunter James to trade her life for her
mother’s life. In New
Moon,
she risks a conflict with the self-proclaimed, ancient, and
extraordinarily powerful vampire leaders, the Volturi, to save Edward
from himself, freely giving up her own future to preserve his. In
Eclipse,
when the climatic battles between the enemy vampire Victoria’s
lieutenant, Riley, and Seth the young werewolf, as well as between
Edward and Victoria herself, seem to be going badly, Bella grabs the
opportunity to injure herself to distract the enemy vampires with her
blood, allowing Seth and Edward to eliminate them. Her willingness to
sacrifice her own life is the only power she has to face the
supernatural forces that threaten all she holds dear, and she
chooses—without restraint—to use that power again and again.
Though
martyrdom is her only power, Bella is not a weak character. The way
she is described, it seems that Bella is highly responsible—more so
than her peers. She easily falls into the role of caretaker for
Charlie, taking over the cooking and cleaning, and often worries
about her mother and about her mother’s new husband’s ability to
maintain order in her mother’s life. Bella states, “My mom says I
was born thirty-five…” (Twilight,
Meyer, p. 106). But her role is NOT domestic servant. Bella’s
mother seems to respect those who are “middle aged” or more
experienced in life and lovingly points out those attributes in
Bella. Moreover, when Bella switches residences, she is not assigned
household duties, but requests
to take over the kitchen assignments in an effort to save herself
from a steady diet of fried eggs and bacon—the only foods her
father knows how to cook (Twilight,
p.
31). Bella’s deep need to care for and protect those around her is
a vital part of her later transformation, a catalyst that triggers
the greater power within her. It is not a role thrust upon her, nor
is it what makes Bella a “good” daughter. It is an expression of
her nurturing nature.
In
another vein, the book, The
Gift of Fear,
written by security expert Gavin de Becker, discusses the instinct of
true fear, as opposed to the worry and anxiety that often dominates a
person’s life. He describes what he calls PINs, or pre-incident
indicators, the triggers that allow the true fear instinct to warn us
of danger. When it comes to predators, the PINs begin with forced
teaming and charm and niceness. At this point, Mike Newton is more of
a predator than Edward is, forcing Bella to take note of what classes
they share and acting friendly towards her on her first day of
school. On the other hand, as Edward tries to restrain himself from
giving in to his baser vampire instincts, he puts distance between
himself and Bella, treating her rudely. The other predatory PINs
include too many explanatory details, typecasting, loan sharking, the
unsolicited promise, and discounting the word “no” (de Becker, p.
56-63). In no way does Edward employ any of these tactics to isolate
Bella with the intent to harm her, instead often warning her away and
doing his best to subtly make her aware of the danger he could be to
her.
Also
of concern to those who despair of Bella’s being a feminist is her
deliberate ignoring of Edward’s repeated warnings that he desires
her blood. Again, de Becker points out that those who say “I am
going to kill you” are not necessarily dangerous at that moment (p.
108). Instead, the speaker is issuing a warning, just as Edward was
issuing a warning to Bella as he tries to get her to leave for her
own safety. According to de Becker, the use of intuition can lead a
person to safety, if he or she can trust that “gut feeling” that
is truly a furiously quick flight through logical cognitive
processes. Bella demonstrates her trust for Edward during the
incident in Port Angeles, willingly hopping into his car to escape
the human predators herding her towards danger (Twilight,
p. 162). And given this context—Edward doing his best to protect
her from harm, including saving her life when a car skids across the
ice towards her, saving her in Port Angeles, and saving her again
from the truly predatory vampire James—Bella is right to ignore his
threat. He does not mean it and will not act on it. So if one accepts
that Bella’s ability to care for her parents is not domestic
servitude, but a sign of maturity, then one can also accept that
Bella can trust her intuition, to know that as often as Edward
expresses the thirst her blood calls out in him, he will never act on
it.
The
Power of Choice
One
of the primary tenets of feminism is agency, or freedom of choice. A
casual reading of the Twilight Saga makes obvious the choice Bella
has between two loves: vampire Edward or werewolf Jacob. However,
Meyer makes it clear at the end of New
Moon
that Bella doesn’t see that as a choice—her heart will always
belong to Edward and poor Jacob will always be the runner up
(New
Moon,
p. 370-371, 375, 527).
No, the choice that matters for Bella is the choice to embrace
Otherness, to become something other than her current self in order
to bring equality to her relationship with Edward.
Coloring
the entire story is Bella’s choice to accept
Edward’s otherness—his vampire state—and her desire to join him
in that otherness. It seems that Bella does not weigh the gravity of
her choice—Edward must be the one to make her see it seriously and
its effects on those closest to her. Therefore, his actions are bent
towards keeping her safe in her human form, the better to enjoy all
that humanity has to offer her, and to enable Bella to make her
choice—when to become a vampire—free of fear (Eclipse,
p. 271). Thus, Bella is not subsuming her character in deference to
Edward and his choices. In fact, her ardent desire to also become a
vampire makes him fight harder, be more persuasive, choose those
courses of action that will allow Bella to truly see the consequences
of her choice.
Also,
Bella recognizes Edward’s significance in her life from the very
beginning, wondering at the intensity of feeling she has for him and
how that
was altering the choices she made. “I couldn’t allow him to have
this level of influence over me…. It was unhealthy,” she said
(Twilight,
p. 74). In Eclipse,
Jacob questions Edward’s reactive protectiveness and resulting
“kidnapping” of Bella: “…don’t you think this is …
controlling…psychotic?” (Eclipse,
p. 146). On the surface, as acknowledged by Bella and questioned by
Jacob, the strength of feeling between Bella and Edward affects their
individual courses of action, and Edward’s overprotectiveness
towards Bella often reads as domination and control. In his quest to
keep Bella safe, Edward attempts to restrict her choices, with rather
disastrous results—driving Bella into Jacob’s arms. Once he
realizes his mistake, Edward retrenches (Eclipse,
p. 189-191), in order to prevent Bella’s extreme reactions from
putting her into danger. As Edward finally explains to Bella, he is
doing his best to keep Bella out of danger so that she can make the
choice to become a vampire free of fear. It would seem that Edward is
aware of the intensity of their relationship—in fact, one could
argue that his extreme reactions for both protecting Bella and
attempting to provide her with a normal life definitely demonstrate
the intensity of his feelings—and while he wants Bella to be his
forever, he emphatically states that he wants it to be her choice. He
does not want her to change into a vampire to eliminate the threat of
the vengeful Victoria or the domineering Volturi.
Frederic
Douglass once stated that “women who wanted their rights did not
frighten him, politically or socially, because he knew his own rights
were not diminished by theirs” (Ulrich, p. 208). At one point,
Edward asks Bella why she wants to become a vampire so badly,
concerned that she wants to have the enhanced abilities that the
vampire state brings, instead of him. But Bella makes Edward
understand that her choice to become a vampire was a result of how
desperately she wanted their relationship to be on equal footing
(Twilight,
p. 473). Reassured, Edward was the first to compliment her when her
exceptional vampire aptitude became apparent. “That was quite
graceful—even for a vampire” (Breaking
Dawn,
p. 409). Edward honored Bella by accepting her decision to make her
choices in her own time, accepting that he could not influence them
by his actions, and accepting the consequences in the most difficult
circumstances.
Perhaps
the hardest choice for Edward to endure was Bella’s decision to
keep their baby and see Renesmee’s gestation through to the end, in
spite of the physical consequences. As Edward states at the end of
New
Moon,
his nature was forever altered by Bella’s presence in his life (p.
514). As his perspective changed, the intense focus of his rather
prodigious capabilities became what he thought was best for Bella.
However, despite Edward’s attempt to influence her otherwise, Bella
stubbornly clings to her desired course of action. When they come to
an impasse, Edward explains to Bella the art of compromise: “You
gave me two alternatives that you could live with, and I chose the
one that I
could
live with. That’s how compromise is supposed to work” (Eclipse,
p. 422). Therefore, watching Bella’s pregnancy destroy her from the
inside out was the most exquisite torture imaginable, yet Edward did
his best to honor
her decision.
The
Power of Transformation
Choice
and transformation are inseparably intertwined, as it is our choices
that result in our transformations. The same holds true for Bella.
Her first transformation is developing a mature relationship with
Edward. As
her relationship with Edward progresses, Bella sees the need for
equality between them. She can only see his beauty and natural
abilities as contrasted with her weaknesses, not allowing for the
tremendous physical differences between them. Even after her epiphany
in New
Moon,
her realization that Edward loves her, she cannot allow love to be
the great equalizer and continues to see her human frailties as
unconquerable weaknesses. However, as the threat from Victoria
increases in Eclipse,
Edward and Bella learn to compromise (Meyer, p. 422). Edward also
begins to demonstrate his weaknesses—his penchant towards being
overprotective and overreacting, among others. But their true
equality is demonstrated in Breaking
Dawn
when Bella is pregnant and losing the battle to keep the baby and
herself alive. Edward is finally rendered helpless—he cannot save
Bella from her choice to have the baby, protected as she is by his
vampire sister Rosalie, nor can he offer her an acceptable
alternative. The desperate pain he feels almost seems to paralyze him
as much as pain and fear paralyze Bella when she is confronted by
hostile supernatural powers. It is at this moment of equality that
Bella’s transformation into the mother-savior archetype begins,
and in which the entire Twilight
series itself transforms.
Jung states:
“There comes a
moment when all of a man’s understanding give way before forces of
nature—events outside his control—and he has a moment of collapse
or a voluntary death. Only when all props and crutches are broken,
and no cover from the rear offers even the slightest hope of
security, does it become possible for us to experience an archetype
that up till then had lain hidden behind the meaningful nonsense
played out by the anima.
This is the archetype of meaning, just as the anima is the archetype
of life itself.” (p. 328)
Both
Bella and Edward are rendered helpless by the progress of the
pregnancy. As Bella journeys into death, she brings forth and accepts
new life—she becomes a fully articulated mother—and
this begins the forceful feminine story.
Bella
is essentially the same person before and after her vampire
transformation: strong-willed, mature enough to accept responsibility
for her decisions, and very capable of adapting to new situations.
Although Bella’s most noticeable transformation is from human to
vampire, the key aspect to Bella as a heroine is her transformation
from maiden to mother. It is motherhood that transforms her, that
triggers her prodigious protective capabilities to make her into a
savior. As she lays dying, just before the vampire venom kicks in to
transform her, Bella hangs on to the memory of her newborn daughter
in an effort to live (Breaking
Dawn,
p. 375). In the gateway between maidenhood and motherhood, a woman
becomes something more than herself, and she has done something no
man could do. Pregnancy is a rite of passage, no matter its ending.
As noted mythologist and author of the hero journey analysis, Hero
with a Thousand Faces,
Joseph Campbell puts it, a mother protects a child before and after
birth (p. 6). Bella protected her fetus from abortion, then learned
to use her powers to protect Renesmee from physical harm after birth
(Breaking
Dawn, p.
620). Campbell also states that the hero dies and returns as an
eternal being (p. 20), much as Bella does immediately after
Renesmee’s birth. And so, by definition, Bella becomes both a
mother and a hero—a mother-savior. Social psychologist Carolyn
Pearson, author of The
Hero Within,
equivocates “…all people are heroic, and all are essential to
human evolution. Our task is merely to affirm completely who we
are….That is why affirming femaleness is so transformative for
women” (p. 127). Because the center of Bella’s transformation is
birth first,
Bella’s story remains solidly in the realm of the female, a story
that belongs to ALL women, mothers, maidens, spinsters, and crones.
It is this role that sustains Bella when her new way of life is
challenged by outside forces and Bella must become a savior. The
traditional male ending for the Twilight saga would have been a fight
for dominance or annihilation. But this is Bella’s
story—she is the hero—and it ends Bella’s way, making everyone
as happy as possible and protecting, through her own abilities,
everyone she cares for. As Rabuzzi says, “…questing for selfhood
as that quest is traditionally presented often dooms us to failure.
Not only do we usually not measure up to male norms, we cannot
possibly do so by definition” (p. 8). Instead, women become heroes
through their own feminine transformations.
In
that vein, the archetype of the mother is represented by certain
types of objects, among them the hollow object and the magic circle,
and implies protection (Jung, p. 345). As Bella protects her child
before birth within her body, she protects the child after birth
externally through the extension of her natural shield. It is this
powerful hollowness that encloses her loved ones, allowing the true
motives of the vampire law enforcement, the Volturi, to be exposed
and defeated and creating a safe environment for her loved ones. By
using the ultimate mother archetypal symbol of containment, Bella is
able to save all of those dear to her—her new, adopted family and,
by eliminating the possibility of retribution, by extension she
protects her extended biological family as well. The ending of
Breaking
Dawn
was not male-centered at all—there was no traditional fight to the
death or striking change to the world—but centered in the female,
rendering the entire saga into a feminist work.
Conclusion
On
the surface, The
Twilight Saga is
about a girl who falls in love with a perfect boy who repeatedly
rescues her from perilous situations. Beneath the surfaced, however,
the girl saves the boy as often as he saves her, and in the last book
of the series, Breaking
Dawn,
the game changes entirely. The playful anima is swept away and a new
purpose is found: Bella becomes an all-powerful mother, descending
through the darkness of a terrible pregnancy and a violent birth, a
baptism of blood and fire, to reach her full potential. Thus, young
female readers are introduced to a story that belongs to them, and
older female readers are reminded that being female means having and
sharing our stories that value our biology, our abilities, and our
freedom to make choices—that feminism is about being a fully
realized woman, not about being like a man. The resonance of this
story on an instinctual level is profound and may explain why so many
women connect to it.
Through
the lens of feminism, now, can the questions from the beginning be
answered. Is Bella subordinated or is she allowed freedom of choice?
Bella is very much allowed freedom of choice. Edward fights both
outward forces and Bella’s impatience to permit Bella the
opportunity to freely choose a life with him, as a completely
transformed being who may or may not be worthy of eternal salvation.
When Bella chooses to accept her motherhood, Edward does his best to
offer her less life-endangering alternatives, but he does not take
that choice away from her. Bella, therefore, is not
one-dimensional—she is able to pursue her uniquely feminine
journey, including the right to bear children. Is she the problem or
the solution to the crisis? Bella is never the problem, though she
perceives herself that way. She is the focus of the crises, and
through her transformed mother self, is able to become the solution.
What of the other females in the story—how are they treated?
Edward’s respect for choice is most strongly emphasized in his
interactions with Bella, but echoed in his respect for others’
stories, despite his access to them—for instance, Bella must find
out from Rosalie and Esme themselves how they died, no matter how
sensational the story was. How are the men portrayed? The men are not
weak, nor are they domineering. Throughout the Twilight
saga, each character earns respect for their abilities, their care
for others, and their own personal strength during struggles.
There
is an equality here, a respect for the feminine that resonates in our
society on a deeper level than one might suppose, if one has the
patience to examine it.
In fact, the events of Breaking Dawn bring the series firmly into the
realm of the feminine. Typical male endings, as outlined by Joseph
Campbell in The
Hero with a Thousand Faces,
include a return from a heaven-like place to the mundane real world,
the hero becoming a master of both the divine and mundane world, or
by destroying the current situation in the new world to create the
freedom to live. But Breaking
Dawn
ends with a triumphant mother-savior, content in the mundane world
that is heavenly to her, and peace.
The
cultural resonance with Bella’s story goes deeper than it would
seem at first glance—in fact, the Twilight
Saga is an example of the feminine journey, with a crucially feminine
ending. Twilight
resonates not because it is a story about a girl who happens to win
the love of the perfect boy, but because it is a woman’s
story about a woman’s journey. In Bella’s relationship with
Edward and in her transformation from maiden to mother, prior
to her transformation into powerful vampire, Bella becomes a symbol
of feminine power and strength, free to make her own choices. As she
puts aside her role as a victim, paralyzed by pain and fear and
general helplessness in the face of powers greater than her own,
Bella becomes the rescuer she longs to be. Moreover, when Bella
becomes a mother, she becomes a savior. Most importantly, her power
is her own. As the cover art of Breaking
Dawn
suggests, she goes from a weak pawn to the most powerful queen. In
the end, over ancient power-hungry vampire males, over pain and fear
and blindness, over despair, through her own choices and abilities,
Bella the Mother triumphs.
References
Campbell,
Joseph. The
Hero with a Thousand Faces.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1968. Print.
Clift, Kristin. “From a Recovered Twilight Addict.” Soapboxing Balderdash. 29 Nov. 2009. Web. 21 July 2010.
de Becker, Gavin. The Gift of Fear: Survival Signals That Protect Us from Violence. New York: Dell, 1997. Print.
Glieberman,
Owen. "'Eclipse': Shrewdly Retro or Just Backward? You Decide! |
Inside Movies | EW.com." Inside
Movies.
Entertainment Weekly, 2 July 2010. Web. 2 July 2010.
Houston,
Gail. "Feminism--The Theory of Criticism." The
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Ed. David L. Cowles. Provo, UT: Grandview, 1992. Print.
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C. G. The
Basic Writings of C.G. Jung.
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Meyer,
Stephenie. Breaking
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York: Little, Brown, 2008. Print.
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New York: Little, Brown, 2006. Print.
Meyer,
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New York: Little, Brown, 2005. Print.
Meyer,
Stephenie. "Breaking Dawn FAQ." The
Official Website of Stephenie Meyer.
Web. 7 Apr. 2010.
Pearson,
Carol. The
Hero Within: Six Archetypes We Live by.
San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1989. Print.
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Kathryn Allen. Motherself:
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Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1988. Print.
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