Obligatory

What kind of feminist would I be if I didn't comment on Twilight? First, let's set some ground rules: I will attempt to discuss this topic with grace, but, ultimately, these books and their author provide me with little more than murderous emotions. Secondly, the books are not a saga. They are a trilogy. (With an unfortunate addendum book added, breaking the label of 'trilogy' I suspect so that Stephanie Meyer could continue falsely labeling the books parts of her 'saga.' But I digress.)

I have attempted to read at least one (and did finish the first) of the books in order to educate myself so that my arguments can possess some sense of validity. The second book I started and threw at the wall. I tried to block out what I'd read, but knew it'd be at least useful to argue against in the future, so I've retrieved the following information/presented argument from what I could restore from my mind's Recycling Bin and Google. (A quick search of 'feminism and twilight' came up with about 1,080,000 results.)

A list:

1. The author is female, yes, but, as a feminist, that does not incline me to like her any more than I would a male author. (Feminists should never be stating women are almighty and incapable of mistakes [in this case, GRAVE mistakes].) Meyer's writing style is heavily flawed and her plot a personal but voyeuristic sexual vampire fantasy. All she did was change her name to 'Bella.'

2. Bella Swan. After criticism of the awful name choice, let's discuss her character: she has none. She is a plain jane who is somewhat klutzy. Because of this bland mixture, millions of female readers have been able to project themselves onto her, fitting themselves in her very plain shoes. ("She's just like me! I trip down stairs too!") The anomaly in the equation? EVERY guy who comes into contact with her immediately falls MADLY in love with her, thus giving the projecting female readers an immense amount of false hope for themselves.

3. Edward Cullen: the creeper. When he first meets Bella in Biology class, they are to be partners. Cullen maintains distance and a look of disgust on his face because of Swan's 'scent'. Naturally, Swan pairs herself romantically with Cullen in her mind because he avoids her and treats her like shit. What a great lesson. Not to mention the times (yes, plural) he spends on her windowsill watching her sleep. When she catches him, Swan swoons over the 'gesture' like it's some big romantic leap. (A stalker breaking and entering? Oh yeah, total heartthrob right there. Barf.) "Glorifying this behavior" as writer, nikkigassley, mentions, "isn’t just ridiculous, it’s dangerous." Let's not forget that much of the text is occupied with elaboration on his sparkling flesh, chiseled jaw, and marble-like complexion. (I don't want to date a fucking ice-cold statue.)

4. The time I threw the book at the wall. (And I'm not one to harm literature. [But this isn't literature.]) Somewhere in the second book, Cullen leaves Swan (you know, to create that conflict and rising action Meyer learned in Writin' Skool). The pages become filled with thoughts of suicide (need I mention they'd only known each other for less than a year by this time) and desperation. Next, the pages become only one word: "October", "November", "December". SHE HAS NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT AND NOTHING TO LIVE FOR WHEN HE LEAVES HER. I believe this instance was after the sage line, "You are my life now." (Give me a breeeeaaakkkk.) Swan gets a little bit of her life back when she hangs out with Jacob Black (the werewolf boy). Notice how she can't have a life without a man? She's still upset that Cullen's gone, though. Then she realizes when she puts herself in danger, she begins to see visions of Cullen telling her to stop and take care of herself ('looking out for her'). The visions become stronger the more dangerous she gets. Naturally, she attempts suicide. LESSONS, PEOPLE. So, of course, with his vampire future-seeing powers and all that, Cullen comes back to save her.

5. After Cullen returns. (Because, per Writin' Skool, there should be someathat good ole 'resolution'.) There's lots of mushy gushy action and then Cullen proceeds to tell her who she can and cannot associate with (other men). And there's all these heroics about his stern hand, keeping her in his care and his sight 'for her own good.' Yes, that's what an abusive relationship is for: the good of the woman.

6. Let's return to the notion of vampires. So we have a hungry group of people who 'out of the goodness of their hearts' turn 'vegetarian' and do not feast on humans. But they still have urges. Cullen's urge with Bella is so strong, I believe there's another gem of a line in which he labels her as his "own brand of heroine." (Kill me now.) So, yeah. All that lovely BDSM stuff floating around the subcontext. And Cullen withholds sex and 'turning' Bella (into a vampire) in order to get what he wants. Further male control. But it's 'out of love.' "Edward's a vampire, but no matter, he's incredibly good-looking. He may be a dangerous dude, but a woman's love can tame him."

7. Traditional gender roles. The men are muscle-y or otherwise strong and defensive of 'their' women. (The muscle-y part is continually apparent in the Twilight movies in which the Jacob Black character is without a shirt through most of the film -- to my dismay, but titillating the borderline pedophilic tendencies in some viewers.) The women in the books are not particularly strong physically and certainly not strong in character or personality. They are bland and remain in the house/kitchen. Here's another gorgeous staple of the text: "In the third book [Bella] describes herself as 'helpless and delicious.'"

In response to critiques like mine, Meyer has been quoted: "The foundation of feminism is this: being able to choose." Thus Bella's ignorance and willingness to remain in an abusive relationship qualify her as a feminist. Sound logic, Meyer. "This seems to imply that anything a woman does is a feminist act, unless she's performing it because someone's put a gun to her head."