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I’m Not Broken – Annalee Flower Horne

Annalee Flower Horne’s essay talks about the portrayal of sexual assault survivors in SF/F. While not graphic in detail, I thought a content warning was appropriate. As she notes, it’s not that our genre never writes about assault; it’s that we tend to do it badly.

I’ve always appreciated Princess Leia as an amazing character, but I’d never considered how powerful her portrayal and story might be to a child survivor. After reading this, I doubt I’ll ever look at Leia in the same way.


When I was a kid, I loved Princess Leia.

She was smart and capable; a leader and a hero. And unlike Luke and Han, I could see myself in her. We were both girls.

We were also both assault survivors.

The original trilogy was on a lot in my house. I saw the Twi’lek dancer pulling away from Jabba with terror in her eyes. I saw Leia in that humiliating bikini. I knew what it meant.

These days, I’m mostly just disgusted with how the movie (and the fandom) handled it, but child-me wasn’t disgusted.

LeiaChild-me saw an assault survivor who still got to be a badass. Leia left Tatooine and returned to her life as a leader of the rebellion. No one treated her differently or told her she couldn’t do the things the boys do because someone might rape her. At the end of the movie, she got the dashing rogue and the happy ending.

I wanted to be just like her.

It may seem weird to talk about sexual assault for a series about representation, because sexual assault survivors are all over genre fiction. Jim has written about how much of a cliché it is, and TV Tropes has an extensive list of examples. But seeing representations that bear so little resemblance to your actual experience is damaging. Especially when so many of those representations portray people like you as fundamentally broken.

That’s pretty much the life of a sexual assault survivor in fiction. We don’t get to be the hero. We get to be brutally raped by the villain, leaving the hero—not us, mind you; the hero—scarred and hell-bent on avenging our virtue.

There’s also the trope where writers throw a little agency our way, and we get to avenge our own virtue—but that’s all we get to do. Our entire lives revolve around a thing that was done to us, to which the only “proper” response is murderous rage and possibly world domination.

I used to wonder if I was really a survivor, because I never tried to kill my attacker. He lived in my neighborhood. We made polite conversation at the park, and it was awkward as hell, but I never wanted to hurt him.

I certainly never tried to take over the world. I really don’t know where writers get the idea that sexual assault causes sociopathy in survivors, but it’s lazy bullshit and I wish that trope would just die already.

A lot of folks have suggested that all rape and survivor tropes should just die already. I remember reading one article suggesting that every time a woman on a TV show is raped, a male character should get his balls cut off, for parity.

It took me a long time to unpack why that bothered me, but it comes down to this: I have not been maimed. Popular media often drastically underplays how awful rape is, but it also overplays the fallout. I don’t want to dismiss survivors who really do end up with acute stress disorder and severe PTSD. We need to hear those stories, because the people living them need to know they’re not alone.

But that’s not always how the story goes. One out of every five women is an assault survivor. If you think every woman you know has beaten those odds, it may be because survivors don’t look and act like you think we will. Many survivors get on with our lives. We manage as well as we can. We heal.

For me, the effects have always been subtle. There are books I won’t read and shows and movies I won’t watch. I have a phobia you’d never guess was related to having been assaulted unless I told you.

I show up at work early, because we have open seating, and I want to be sure to get one of the desks with the wall behind it so people can’t get behind me without passing through my peripheral vision first.

I’m happily married, with a steady job and a lot of friends. I build cool stuff and have too many fandoms, and don’t actually spend a whole lot of time thinking about that thing that happened when I was a kid. I wrote most of this post while pacing around my neighborhood alone after midnight, because I know where monsters lurk, and it isn’t the damn bushes.

I still want to see survivors in fiction. I just want them to be whole people. They should have goals and dreams and inner lives that don’t revolve around that one thing that was done to them. They should get to be heroes, villains, lovers, and liars without anyone reducing them to their survivor status.

These days, I understand that this isn’t what Lucasfilm was going for with Leia. Like so many survivors in fiction, her story was only important when the film could pass it off as sexy. Reducing her to her survivor status would have ruined the bikini shot.

I’m glad child-me didn’t get that. I’m glad I was able to project onto Leia the capable survivor I wanted to grow up to be. Her happy ending mattered to me, because it helped me imagine my own.

But now that I’m living that happy ending, I want more than to see my heroes completely stripped of agency for cheap fanservice. I want to see what child-me saw in Leia: survivors who get to save the day, fall in love, and experience the whole range of human emotions without anyone—including the narrator—treating them like they’re broken.


Annalee Flower Horne is an open-source developer and science fiction writer from Washington, DC. You can find her on Twitter, her website, and the Geek Feminism blog. Her fiction has appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

Comments

( 10 comments — Leave a comment )
mt_yvr
Feb. 25th, 2015 06:24 pm (UTC)
These essays are brilliant, as always. Thanks Jim for providing the redirect to these writers and linking me to new people to read/follow/learn from.




Edited at 2015-02-25 06:53 pm (UTC)
deborahblakehps
Feb. 25th, 2015 07:40 pm (UTC)
Incredibly well said. Kudos.
wintersillusion
Feb. 25th, 2015 09:56 pm (UTC)
It's not exactly related to SF/F exactly, but I've been noticing a trend in some of the television shows I watch in which all the people around the survivor are so supportive. Maybe ONE person will victim blame. I don't know how I feel about it really. I know this sounds horrible, but I wish they'd be more realistic about how many people tend to victim blame and maybe throw in some consequences for those people where they see the error of their ways or something to help educate about victim blaming. Truthfully, many girls who survive assault have to go through torment from the people around them when they speak out. It's not all roses and supportive people out there. And, that is a huge problem in our society which could be addressed better if they are going to go the route of assault in the first place. I'm torn because the way people respond to them is a good example of how people should respond, but it doesn't show how horrible it can be to have people bullying you about something because they think they get to tell you what you wanted or deserved. Actually, maybe I'm just digging myself a hole here. I'm not sure what would be a good balance to handling these things, especially in shows meant for young women, but I just don't like the way they find a way to make it feel like everyone in our society is going to automatically do the right thing in the aftermath of something like that. It feels like a horrible lie which, when I was younger, made me believe that people knew intrinsically that this was wrong and didn't prepare me for how so many people could perceive it in so many forms of gray. It set me up for a lot of pain and disappointment when people around me started trying to turn the tables and, as I got older, when I noticed it happening with disturbing frequency.
jimhines
Feb. 25th, 2015 10:39 pm (UTC)
I don't think you're digging a hole. It's a good point. You don't want stories to *encourage* victim-blaming and rape myths and such, but especially in stories set in the present, it doesn't make sense to pretend those things don't exist, either. Which can be a tricky line to walk, and requires some awareness and understanding on the part of the writer. (I hope I'm paraphrasing things correctly, here.)
wintersillusion
Feb. 26th, 2015 09:14 pm (UTC)
Exactly, thank you!
mtlawson
Feb. 25th, 2015 10:04 pm (UTC)
Thanks to both Jim and Annalee for this post. It dredges up bad memories, but necessary ones.
(Deleted comment)
siege
Feb. 26th, 2015 01:39 am (UTC)
A few years ago, I began writing a story about a child born into slavery and abuse, who ended up founding a thousand-year empire based on the ideal of familial love as societal relationship (Big Sister loves you and will care for you if you care for each other). But I put the project down after starting into the first chapter primarily because her awful beginning was the darkest thing since evil was invented. I didn't want to play up the trope of extreme abuse as motivation, and I wasn't sure I wanted to write quite that dark.

I still have a file or two for the project, but I worry about continuing it. The hera (female hero) insisted that it happened that way, because later points in her history depended on specific events near the beginning.. and I just don't know if I can do it justice.

I'd love some feedback on the topic if anyone feels moved.
lenora_rose
Feb. 27th, 2015 04:02 am (UTC)
I'm a nobody in writing circles, but I have tried to handle sexual assault in fiction and I've thought hard about it. I think there are a few things you can do, and these are truly generic advice:

- Yes, it might motivate her sometimes, but make it far from her only motivation.
- If possible, tell the story of the abuse as backstory, not chapter one. Let the details emerge over the course of the book. This means, foremost, that it's not the first thing we see about her, or the thing everyone thinks about and is stuck on when it comes to her power and motivation.
- Think hard about how much the reader needs to know beyond the outline. A little implication goes a long way.
- If it must be on the page - and sometimes it must - make absolutely sure you're writing it as violence, and not, even subconsciously, lingering on anything that might be considered titillating. The mind can unconsciously recall tropes from other books or movies, and regurgitate them when one isn't thinking.
siege
Feb. 28th, 2015 03:39 am (UTC)
Thank you. These suggestions are helpful. I'll have to consider just how lavishly to describe some of the details.
( 10 comments — Leave a comment )

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