Introduction:

Contrary to adult fiction, which is often written simply to entertain an audience, the primary motive of children’s and young adult literature and film is educational. While a story’s lesson-teaching purpose may or may not have been written intentionally, children’s fiction presents a time-sensitive standard of behavior for its young audiences, sculpting their minds through example. These examples take form primarily in the main characters that drive the plot, idols that children seek to imitate and strive to become. Girls especially have been targets for the education of proper behavior for as long as children’s literature and film have existed, evolving alongside their fictional female role models, whose purpose has changed radically with the ever-changing standards of society. My research strives to map these changes, focusing especially on American literature and film, and to map the archetypical changes in female characters within children’s and young adult fiction. For the sake of scope, I have tried to do justice to the fiction by choosing books and films that not only span from the 1850’s to our 2015 present, but which also come from a wide range of genres, (some of which are classics, others unheard of), and whose main characters are drastically different. This project could be replicated again and again in numerous forms, perhaps using American books and films different from those I have chosen, broadened to map different country-based patterns, or more largely, to chart a global trend.

The Emotionally Repressive Girl (1850-1950):    

Before I begin to discuss the more detailed aspects of my argument, I would like to cleanly establish the parameters of my thought process itself, and to make it clear that, for the purposes of this paper, my definition of emotional expression includes a lack of shame for asserting and pursuing one’s goals and desires—not singularly wanting to be free from judgment when outwardly expressing emotion, such as anger or sadness. Therefore the opposite of this would be my definition of emotional repression or emotional control, in which girls quell their own desires and feelings due to societal expectations or for the sake of others, and tend to forfeit their natural right to a share of the historically male-dominated claim to shameless cultural ‘power.’ Thus,  the stage is set for our argument.

Throughout history, women and girls have been expected to drastically repress what was perceived as their natural tendency toward emotion. In earlier times, and as articulated in texts from the 1850s-early 1900s, a girl’s expression of emotion was viewed as weak, and—above all else—as shameful, and negatively reflected back onto her family as it commented on her husband or parent’s inability to control her. Therefore, women were expected to exact a level of self-control which would curb these expressions, and which commonly contributed to her status as a second-class member of her own household. Although many of us today shake our heads at these statements, and pity the women who obeyed these standards, most women embraced this role, perceiving it as proper behavior, and teaching these habits to their own daughters.

From my research of texts written as early as 1850, many female authors during the late 19th century through the early 20th century wrote instructional stories for girls that enforced the idea of self-control by displaying the ‘noble’ results of good behavior, often ending stories in a financially secure and happy marriage, or in a quiet illness that returns the obedient and often pious child to God, such as Beth’s tragic but holy death in the 1868 text Little Women. Female characters were often orphaned, an event which was either written in as a punishment for disobedient girls, or an opportunity for emotionally-controlled girls to become even more good by making the most of a terrible situation and remaining kind, such as in Cinderella. Girl characters who sincerely expressed their emotions and who disobeyed the orders of their families were often painted by authors as being repulsive or spoiled creatures who commanded little sympathy; at least until they learned the wrongs of their ways and amended their behavior, like the character Mary in the 1911 text The Secret Garden.

Although nowadays we perceive self-repression as something that took women and girls’ innate power away from them, some women used silence and control to their advantage, owning the faults of the cultural standards of their time and using them to subtly gain external control and command a sense of quiet power. In this way, self-control became in certain situations a sort of backward strength, as women’s suppression of emotion became a veil that simply hid more vitriolic emotions than she let show, perhaps promising subtle consequences to come, and commanding a sense of respect. This is fairly complex, and I should point out that women and girls who used self-control to gain power were not by nature passive, and were different from women who employed self-control simply to obey others.  One could perhaps even call the former archetype a sort of rebel in her time, seeking to survive in a world where she was unwelcome.

An example of this can be displayed in the 2012 movie Brave, as the mother of the main character evokes a sense of strength and power through propriety and emotional repression.  There is a moment in the movie when the Queen commands the attention of a room full of fighting men, simply by being composed. The crowd parts, the men fall silent and bow when they spot her, and she silently drags the four childish chieftains back to the podium by their ears as they mutter excuses and apologies. Although Queen Elinor is not the archetypical young female character that this project seeks to study, the essence that she embodies is important to acknowledge. In many stories, mother figures often serve as the educational voice of the author, as her methods were intended to correct and instruct the main character, and often greatly impacted her choices. Later in the film, the wild princess Merida imitates the same strategy used by her mother, walking emotionlessly through a crowd of warriors and claiming their attention simply through her silent presence. We can see how these two figures effectively use their lack of emotional expression to command attention and strength: rather than blazing into the room and angrily joining the combat in order to assert herself, which would have been far less effective, the women gain total control by abstaining from the engagement of emotion entirely.

We must acknowledge, however, that Brave is a modern movie set in an ancient time, and so it makes sense that its female characters would obey modern principles of assertiveness while still abiding by the conservative rules of her time. Although this is indeed a more modern fictional example, there are earlier texts that support the principle of women who were assertive through their self-control, such as some of the sisters in Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 text, Little Women, as well as many real-life women such as Queen Elizabeth I, who refused to let the rules of their times pacify them.

Regardless, we cannot forget the girls who were self-controlled and emotionally repressed without being assertive, and saw it fit to let their husbands and the men in their lives take on that role. More so than the aforementioned type of women, who were essentially able to express themselves through being emotionlessly assertive, these women seem to have perceived the expression of emotion and assertiveness overall as being selfish and harmful to those around them. Women like Ellen’s mother in the 1850s book A Wide, Wide World saw their proper role as being present for the sake of others and refused to let their emotions make them selfish. These women also felt it was their duty to educate their daughters to be selfless in the same way that they were—even if this was at the cost of bottling up their feelings and pretending to be strong. We can see in the following passage an example of this philosophy, as Ellen’s mother sympathizes with her daughter’s struggle to reign in her emotions, but sees it as proper to do so regardless.

“Ellen! Ellen! listen to me,” she said; “my child, this is not right. Remember, my darling, who it is that brings this sorrow upon us—though we must sorrow, we must not rebel.”

Ellen sobbed more gently; but that and the mute pressure of her arms was her only answer.

“You will hurt both yourself and me, my daughter, if you cannot command yourself. Remember, dear Ellen, God sends no trouble upon His children but in love; and though we cannot see how, He will no doubt make all this work for our good.”

“I know it, dear mother,” sobbed Ellen; “but it's just as hard!”

Mrs. Montgomery's own heart answered so readily to the truth of Ellen's words that for the moment she could not speak.

“Try, my daughter,” she said after a pause; “try to compose yourself. I am afraid you will make me worse, Ellen, if you cannot—I am indeed.” Ellen had plenty of faults, but amidst them all love to her mother was the strongest feeling her heart knew.

It had power enough now to move her as nothing else could have done; and exerting all her self−command, of which she had sometimes a good deal, she did calm herself, ceased sobbing, wiped her eyes, arose from her crouching posture…” (Warner 1850:7).

Ellen herself learns to control her feelings and to be brave in the face of hardship, and is rewarded by the author for her good behavior through the promise of marriage at the end of the story. Similarly, in the classic story of Cinderella, the girl faces trial after trial as she lives with her cruel stepmother and stepsisters, yet remains kind, gentle, and—dare I say—happy. The romanticized 1950s film depicts Cinderella as physically and mentally perfect, and she remains composed, obedient, and beautiful, although she has endured terrible neglect and abuse for years. Cinderella is rewarded for this ‘appropriate’ behavior by her marriage to the prince: a not-so-subtle prize for what is perceived as her overall goodness. Cinderella’s nearly impossible level of self-control and fantastic adventure at the ball places her on a pedestal even above the other Disney princesses. Even by many modern standards, she is THE classic princess, challenged only perhaps by Elsa from the new film Frozen. Regardless, the overall message to female viewers and readers is clear: obedience and composure will be rewarded.

The Transitory Stage: The Emotionally Repressive and Emotionally Expressive Girl (1950-1990):

We will now move forward with our map, and explore what I perceive as the second phase of archetypical change in girls within my window of research. I have read several novels and viewed movies from the 1950s-1990s that depict girls in a sort of transitory state, in which they display characteristics that echo both the conservative standards of their literary predecessors as well as introducing newer more rebellious behaviors that would have previously been deemed inappropriate. This combination of traits make these girls’ characters seem almost hesitant to be fully emotionally honest, as they are still somewhat obligated to tradition, yet experiment with the boundaries of expression. The countenance of these characters is also a reflection on the authors, who themselves are grappling with these very same ideas.

The most notable literary example I have discovered is that of Kit in the 1958 book The Witch of Blackbird Pond. Kit is a stranger in grey, colonial Connecticut, having been born to a liberal family on the vibrant island of Barbados. Kit struggles to find a place in her conservative new family, struggling with her innate rebellious nature while facing the trials that arise alongside her coming of age.  What is interesting about Kit is indeed her duality of nature-she unapologetically owns her own desires, yet contradictorily often derives her self-worth from other’s objective opinions of her. Kit seriously considers marriage to a man who expects her to quell her personality, simply because he could provide her with a life of luxury, yet she rebels against Connecticut’s traditions in almost every way possible, even being accused of witchcraft for breaking the unspoken rules of the colony and knowingly befriending a Quaker. We can see Kit’s wandering logic in the following paragraphs, as she goes through several stages of thought while she considers marriage to the wealthy William Ashby:

“Sometimes, as she sat knitting, aware that William’s eyes were on her face, she felt her breath tightening in a way that was strange and not unpleasant. Then, just as suddenly, rebellion would rise in her. He was so sure! Without even asking, he was reckoning on her as deliberately as he calculated his growing pile of lumber” (Speare 1987:73-74).

Kit is both aware of the pleasure that William’s attention brings her, and also is offended by his arrogant presumption that she would accept his proposal without a second thought. Yet her contradictory nature rises again on the very same page, as she revises her thoughts based on the benefits of his wealthy lifestyle and her hatred of her current work, saying:

“Her hands were unskillful not so much from inability as from the rebellion that stiffened her fingers…she had not been reared to do the work of slaves. And William Ashby was the only person in Wethersfield who did not expect her to be useful, who demanded nothing, and offered his steady admiration as proof of her worth” (Speare 1987:74).

It is indisputable to say that Kit is by nature a rebel: she wishes to rebel against her work and marry rich, rages against expectations that she will follow the rules, and fights against the colonial tradition in of itself. But regardless, as I read, I found myself wondering which Kit would win out: the traditional Kit who rebelled against hard labor, and who considered suppressing her spirit for the sake of status and wealth, or the kind, wild Kit who prized her independence above all else? Although the wild Kit does indeed succeed in the end, rejecting a life of finery and falseness for one of adventure and expressiveness aboard a ship, one can still see the elements of tradition that complicate the placement of this story on our spectrum. Marriage is still of foremost concern in the tale, and although Kit does not marry William, the author makes it clear that her hand is secured by the sailor Nat. Additionally, although Kit’s outspokenness pushes toward a more modern novelistic trend, the fact that she seriously considers suppressing that expression and adopting a life where she would be expected to behave pulls the story back to more traditional roots.

Another similar ‘transitory’ character to consider is that of Buttercup in The Princess Bride. Before I watched the colorful 1987 film (based off of the earlier 1973 novel) I will readily admit that, with a title as fluffy as The Princess Bride, I was fully prepared to classify Buttercup as singularly a damsel in distress, to be categorized in the earlier grouping of non-expressive women awaiting their male-determined fate. However, I was delightedly surprised to see that her character was more complex than I first anticipated, and that, although she does little to facilitate her own rescue, her sharp tongue and general bravery draw the tale toward a more modern perspective than I first assumed. Buttercup is perhaps the epitome of what I view as the ‘transitory’ female archetype: a character who is rebellious by personality, but not by action itself. 

For instance, Buttercup calls her fiancé a coward to his face, fully understanding his proclivity for violence and knowingly risking her own life.  She jumps off of a boat into an ocean of eels simply to escape the men on board, and when her captor plucks her back out of the water and says, sneering: “I suppose you think you’re brave don’t you?” She cheekily replies: “Only compared to some” (The Princess Bride). Buttercup frequently wears red, rides a horse with confidence, and isn’t ashamed to say what she thinks; yet her physical inability, and perhaps even a hesitancy to fight alongside her rescuer, is nearly painful to watch. She stands back looking horrified as her lover Wesley is mauled by a giant rodent, yells for help from the injured Wesley as it crawls toward her, and prods it with a stick to prevent it from chewing on her dress, after which she falls over and is only saved because Wesley is bitten instead. It is almost as though Buttercup’s character is working herself up to reaching her potential as a full-blown emotionally expressive and independent archetype, but hasn’t quite had the courage to seal that reputation by acting upon the principles of her personality. Clearly, the story is fashioned to be an old fairy tale, so perhaps William Goldman wanted to stay true to the essence of women in older novels but still wished to give Buttercup a modern edge, or perhaps he wasn’t ready himself to create a fully independent female character.

Regardless, although they were written years apart and born into wildly different settings, Buttercup joins Kit in what I perceive as the grey area of female archetypes: girls who are mostly emotionally expressive, but who lack a full commitment to the actions that this entails.

The Emotionally Expressive Girl (1990-Present):

We have reached the last phase of my research: my evaluation of the most modern and most progressive version of the female archetype in children’s and young adult literature and film. Although I presently perceive this as the third and final stage of my research, I think there is value in addressing the fact that this archetype is far from being completely evolved, if that in of itself is possible. The examples that I will discuss in this section are indeed the most modern version of what is considered to be the typical female archetype to date, but years from now, it is more than possible that they will be relegated to placement in the previous ‘transitory’ phase, as some of their characteristics, perhaps such as the ever-present aspect of beauty and desirability, are arguably still remnants of traditional requirements for girls to possess. Regardless, for now we are able to view these characters as the epitome of the modern archetype, and will evaluate them as such.

As has been the norm with this project, I have found that I cannot simply reduce the modern archetypical girl to a single definition: she is expressed in too many different ways for me explain her as singular. Therefore I have created two definitions that I find do the most justice to the patterns that I see in literature and film in the modern age. Interestingly enough, the most prominent of these patterns are divided between children’s and young adult genres as well as between literature and film itself, with children’s films and young adult literature diverging into two archetypes of expressive girls.

The first archetype, mostly present in children’s film, centers entirely on the freedom of uninhibited emotional expression: these characters learn to openly embrace their emotions and desires, and begin to view them not as something to refrain from or to fear, but to both pursue and accept. I feel that I would be remiss in my argument if I did not begin with the modern girl’s favorite princess, Elsa from the 2013 Disney movie Frozen. Elsa is the new it princess, the challenger to Cinderella herself, whose popularity seems to be finally waning even as Elsa’s grows. Unstable and flawed, powerful and dangerous, Elsa is fascinating to young children, who seem not only to be drawn to her sparkling costume, perfect figure and wonderful voice (Disney requirements), but also to the very sense of power that she commands. I find it especially fascinating that it is she who seems to have uprooted Cinderella from her throne as children’s favorite, as the two are in many ways, opposites. Rather that presuming perfection and giving girl viewers unrealistic goals of how to behave, Elsa’s character is realistic in that she is flawed, but learns from her mistakes. After injuring her sister Anna by accident, Elsa is told to suppress her powers, and is instructed by her parents to “conceal it, don’t feel it, don’t let it show” (Frozen). This bottling of emotion causes Elsa to live in fear of the destruction she knows she could cause to those she loves, and she shuns both her sister and her people in order to protect them. I would like to note the similarities between this and the 1850s archetype discussed earlier, as women were expected to suppress their emotions for the sake of others, often leading to their own unhappiness. It is only after an outburst caused by this culmination of repressed emotion that Elsa is able to embrace self-love. Her gloves, symbolic of her emotional repression, are taken off, and she is finally able to fully be herself as she creates a new ice palace alone upon the mountain.

As the story progresses, the viewer can see that it is only when Elsa learns not to fear her powers (aka, her emotions) and is able to express them in a positive, healthy way that she becomes capable of being happy and fully herself. In my opinion, Frozen is simply a colorfully-clothed educational story about emotional expression versus emotional repression, and makes a very clear, positive statement to children regarding the importance of expressing one’s feelings in order to be healthy and happy.

Similarly, Merida from the 2012 movie Brave strives to express herself in a way that does justice to her as well as to her family. Unlike Elsa, who at first struggles with being too repressed for the sake of others, and learns to express herself to allow herself to be happy, Merida’s educational journey is the opposite. Fiery in both personality and looks, Merida rebels against her mother’s resolve for her betrothal and decides that she will determine the course of her own fate. Merida’s innate wildness and passion to do what she wants is admirable, as she skillfully rides horseback, shoots arrows, eats more than a lady ‘should’, and gives no regard to her appearance, marriage, or men at all. Merida is unafraid to express exactly what she wants, and even more importantly, is not afraid to go after it herself. However, the story’s lesson carefully reminds the viewer that although it is just to fervently pursue one’s desires and to honestly express one’s feelings, it is unjust to harm others along the way, especially one’s family. Above all else, this story is about Merida and her mother the Queen compromising between total wildness and total control, learning to see things from the other’s perspective, and striving not to harm each other in their pursuit of what they perceive as best.

The second archetype I would like to discuss is present mostly in young adult novels and films, and that of the girl who expresses herself in a sense that is classically perceived as masculine, acting expressively and aggressively, yet handling emotions in an almost repressive way. The first character I would like to address regarding this archetype is the infamous ‘girl on fire,’ Katniss Everdeen, from Suzanne Collin’s wildly popular book series The Hunger Games. Katniss is quite obviously the current crowd’s favorite heroine, and takes the spot as the most popular female character in modern YA literature and film, making her influence on readers and young movie watchers almost incomprehensible. Her continuing popularity in of itself is impressive, as Collin’s first book was published in 2008; 8 years ago. Clearly, the movie franchise has done wonders in maintaining Katniss’ legacy, as the final epic installment of the series premiered in November of 2015.

Katniss is fascinating for the simple reason that she is almost everything that her female predecessors were educated not to be: physically aggressive, verbally assertive, and skilled in combat and weaponry. I have left emotion out of the previous list because I find that characters like Katniss do indeed repress their emotions, but they repress them in a way that is more similar to the way that men classically curb emotion, rather than the way that traditional women have been educated to. My understanding of the difference is this: while both men and early women were (and sometimes still are) expected to repress their emotions lest they appear weak, early women were expected to entirely suppress these emotions as any outbursts would appear shameful and reflect poorly on them, while outbursts from men were seen as threatening to others, and sometimes allowed them to establish a reputation of power and strength. It is in this way that I perceive Katniss as being characterized as emotionally masculine: she suppresses most of her emotion, but when she chooses to express herself, hell breaks loose.

This argument carries into the character that I find to be most fascinating in regard to modern YA literature: Tris, formerly known as Beatrice, from Veronica Roth’s 2011 Divergent series. Unlike almost every classic YA female character (modern or not), Tris fully embraces anger and violence as a means of securing power, and views violent expression not as a flaw, but as a strength that propels her forward. For example, she says “…I feel something hot writhing in my stomach. I want to hurt them. I stare at my eyes in the mirror. I want to, so I will” (170). And later, after she beats someone unconscious, she says: “I wish I could say I feel guilty for what I did. I don’t” (174). The honest and almost confessional aspect to Tris’ narration of Divergent is strangely appealing, and lends itself to her sense of power. Her self-awareness makes her feel real, and in a way seems to excuse the violent choices she makes, or allows them to seem just.

Similarly to Katniss and archetypical men, it takes a lot to work Tris up to expressing herself, and she almost saves her minor feelings up for when she is very angry or upset, and then expresses these feelings with physical violence. I find this expression through physicality to be fascinating: as this type of modern female character becomes more expressive about her morals, she also becomes more willing to use violence to attain her justice. I will confess that objectively, Tris comes across as the most “powerful” female character in my studies, as she unashamedly owns both her desires and feelings (even when they are deemed inappropriate) and will do whatever it takes to achieve her goals. Although I don’t find her violent ways of expression to be an ideal message for young girls, I do find her to be a captivating new type of girl to study, as she violates nearly all traditional expectations of propriety and gender roles, carving a new path for female archetypes.

Concluding Remarks:

It is fairly new for it to be acceptable for women to express themselves in a vocal and physical way, although men have been doing so for hundreds of years. It seems that violence has become an alternate means of emotional expression: something that I’m not sure I agree with. I will not say that it is a good thing that the most modern forms of young adult female archetypes are so similar to men, because I don’t think that more masculine behaviors necessarily make an individual braver or more powerful. I’m certainly proud to see that these female characters are proving that they can be just a strong, courageous, and authoritative as the men who have been classically perceived as such, but I find it unsettling that literary girls need to prove this in the first place in order to be more respected. Why is the key to respect and power only unlocked through masculine behavior? Morally speaking, I don’t think that the ultimate emotionally free woman should be identical to a man, and further, I don’t think that we can classify the expression or repression of emotion itself as a feminine or masculine. If physicality is seen as a typical trait of men, and emotionality is perceived as a trait of women, why aren’t male characters more frequently exploring their sensitive side, if women are exploring their violent side? Why do women have to adopt masculine traits if men aren’t doing the same with feminine ones? The ultimate feminist is not the same as a man, and the most accepting man is not a woman, but perhaps one day, gender aside, we can accept emotion and expression as being innate to all, and power and respect as being attainable for anyone.  

Regardless, I am thrilled to see that the archetypical girl is becoming more accepting of emotion and is exploring new roles in regard to emotional and physical expressiveness. These stories are teaching girls not to be ashamed of their feelings and their desires, and to pursue what they want in a way that is determined, yet mindful of others.

Works Cited

Alcott, Louisa May. 2012. Little Women. New York: Sterling.

Andrews, Mark; Chapman, Brenda. 2012. Brave. Walt Disney.

Buck, Chris; Lee, Jennifer. 2013. Frozen. Walt Disney.

Burnett, Frances Hodgson. 1998. The Secret Garden. New York: Harper Collins.

Collins, Suzanne. 2008. The Hunger Games. N.p.: Scholastic.

Geronimi, Clyde; Luske, Hamlton; Jackson, Wilfred. 1950. Cinderella. Walt Disney,

Goldman, William. 1973. The Princess Bride. N.p.: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.

Reiner, Rob. The Princess Bride. 1987. 20th Century Fox.

Roth, Veronica. 2011. Divergent. New York: Katherine Tegen,

Speare, Elizabeth George. 1987. The Witch of Blackbird Pond. New York: Yearling Newbery.

Warner, Susan. 1850. A Wide, Wide World. N.p., Munseys.