I was really curious to know whether or not her point of view changed, so I did a search (Google, of course) and I actually found her blog. I wrote her an e-mail asking her what evidence she had to back her claim and if her opinion ever changed. I'm really excited to see if she e-mails me back and what she says. If she does, I'll totally post her reply.
Addemdum: I realized I cannot upload a file, so I'm going to cite and past the article below.
Harry Potter and the magical world of patriarchy. By: Schoefer, Christine, New Moon Network, 10835970, Mar/Apr2000, Vol. 7, Issue 4
Believe me, I tried as hard as I could to ignore the sexism. I really wanted to love Harry Potter. But I couldn't.
FOUR FACTORS MADE ME GO OUT and buy the Harry Potter books: their impressive lead on the bestseller lists, parents' raves about Harry Potter's magical ability to lure kids into marathon reading sessions, my daughters' clamoring, and the mile-long waiting lists at the public library. Once I opened The Scorcher's Stone, I was hooked. Glittering mystery and nail-biting suspense, compelling language and colorful imagery, magical feats juxtaposed with real-life concerns all contributed to making this book a page-turner. Of course, Diagon Alley haunted me, the Sorting Hat dazzled me, Quidditch intrigued me. Believe me, I tried as hard as I could to ignore the sexism. I really wanted to love Harry Potter. But I couldn't. At the risk of being labeled a heavy-handed feminist with no sense of humor, I feel compelled to issue a warning: reading Harry Potter may be detrimental to your child's conception of women and girls.
Harry's fictional realm of magic and wizardry perfectly mirrors our patriarchal world in terms of power structures, relationship dynamics, and behavior cliches. From the beginning, it is boys and men, wizards and sorcerers who catch our attention by dominating the scenes and determining the action. Harry, of course, plays the lead. In his epic struggle with the forces of darkness--the evil wizard Voldemort and his male henchmen--Harry is supported by the venerable good wizard Dumbledore and a colorful cast of male characters. Girls, when not downright silly or dislikable, are helpers, enablers, and instruments. No girl is heroic the way Harry is, no female figure is permitted to play on the side of evil. But, you interject, what about Harry's good friend Hermione--isn't she a main character? After a long struggle for his acceptance, Hermione becomes Harry's sidekick. Their relationship reminds me of Dennis the Menace and Margaret's: Hermione is a smart goody-goody who annoys the boys by constantly reminding them of school rules. Early on, she is described as "a bossy know-it-all," hissing at the boys "like an angry goose" Halfway through the first book, when Harry rescues her with Ron's assistance (she freezes, "her mouth open with terror" before she "sinks to the floor in fright"), the hierarchy of power is established. Hermione repays the boys with her complicity--she lies to cover up for them.
True, Hermione is the smartest student at Hogwarts, but there is something pathetic about her. Maybe it's the way she works so hard to get Harry and Ron's approval and respect, in spite of the boys' constant teasing and rejection. Maybe it's the fact that she has no girlfriends, but then, there don't seem to be any girls at Hogwart's School of Magic worth her attention. (A good affirmative action program would do wonders for the school--and the book.) Maybe it's the fact that, again and again, her emotions interfere with her intelligence. When it comes to applying her knowledge, she loses her head. Although Hermione casts successful spells for the boys, she messes up her own and consequently hides in the bathroom with cat fur on her face. Maybe it's because in the end, her knowledge and her effort can never hold a candle to Harry's glorious, rule-defying courage.
Even though Hermione eventually earns the boys' begrudging respect and friendship, her thirst for knowledge remains a constant source of irritation for them. And who can blame them? Hermione, whose nose seems stuck in books, is no fun. She may not be hung up on her looks, but her relentless studying has the all characteristics of a disorder: it makes her ill-humored, threatens her health, and renders her oblivious to her surroundings.
Ron's younger sister, Ginny, who can't help blushing and stammering around Harry, fares even worse than Hermione. "Stupid little Ginny" unwittingly becomes the tool of evil, when she writes into a magical diary. For months and months, Voldemort's agent tells us, "the foolish little brat" confides "all her pitiful worries and woes--how her brothers tease her... how she didn't think famous good great Harry Potter would ever like her..." to these pages. We are told that "it's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year old girl." (my italics).
The male characters join the all-important struggle between good and evil. Women as well as the girls seem so distracted by the small matters at hand and so caught up in their emotions that they lose sight of the bigger picture. Without exception, the girls shriek, scream, gasp, and giggle (in the presence of boys) in situations where boys retain their composure.
This description of guests in the Leaky Cauldron pub sums up the author's valuing of male and female: there are "funny little witches," "venerable looking wizards" who argue philosophy, "wild looking warlocks," "raucous dwarfs," and a "hag" ordering a plate of raw liver. Where would you like to fit in? rest my case.
But I remain perplexed that a woman, the mother of a daughter, could, at the turn of the 20th century, write a book so full of subtle and bold misogyny. And I am troubled by my daughters' willingness to ignore these stereotypes. Surely, it is girls' ability to mentally morph into boy's characters that enables them to enjoy the story. True, this practice conditions our mental dexterity, perhaps even our empathic ability. But boys, who are never expected to read "girls' books" (meaning books that feature a female protagonist) don't seem to require this kind of training.
I remember well my own realization, as a teenager, that the characters with whom I had identified were all male. Literary female role models were few and far between. I have no doubt that slipping into the role of the male hero, which required that I both abdicate and trivialize female life experience, interfered with my ability to shape a strong identity as a girl and a woman.
After wondering for a while how to cushion the impact of Harry Potter's messages for my daughters, who are happily devouring the books as I write, I decided to take the risk of spoiling their fun by telling them the story of this "book review." They listened intently but I could sense their resistance. Of course, they agreed with me that Harry (and even Ron) was much more exciting than Hermione, but it had not occurred to them that they could be bothered by that fact. Without my years of study and experience to school their critical perception, they simply took the book for what it was--an exciting story that existed without a larger social and cultural context. They slipped into the characters and situations they liked best, never stopping to consider how much smoother the fit might be if they got to love the female characters.
Certainly, my comments didn't stop them from reading the books, or mitigate their appreciation of them. "Sometimes," my 10-year-old explained to me, "I think about what you said. But mostly, I just enjoy the story." My 12-year-old nodded her agreement and wondered why a mother of a daughter would choose to write so positively about a Harry instead of a Peggy. But I'm left wondering.
On the one hand, I'm glad that their ability to appreciate stories is not so easily spoiled. For what would there be left to read if they avoided all literature with gendered stereotypes? But on the other hand, I do hope that I have planted a seed--a seed of awareness and critical ability that will blossom into a search for images (and realities) of strong, creative, and vital girls and women, and of boys and men who are not threatened by them.
Book guides for girls
Try one of these guides if you're looking for books featuring strong girls and women.
The Mother-Daughter Book Club: How Ten Busy Mothers and Daughters Came Together to Talk, Laugh, and Learn Through Their Love of Reading, by Shireen Dodson, HarperCollins, 1997
Once Upon A Heroine: 450 Books for Girls to Love, by Alison Cooper-Mullin and Jennifer Marmaduke Coye, Contemporary Books, 1998
Great Books for Girls: More Than 600 Books To Inspire Today's Girls and Tomorrow's Women, by Kathleen Odean, Ballantine, 1997
A few good books for girls
Climb or Die, by Edward Myers, Hyperion, 1994 (adventure, ages 10-13)
Rachel Chance, by Jean Thesman, Houghton, 1990 (adventure, ages 11-14)
The Shimmershine Queens, by Camille Yarbrough, Random House (contemporary, ages 9-12)
Toning the Sweep, by Angela Johnson, Orchard, 1993 (contemporary, ages 11-14).
Who Let Girls in the Boys' Locker Room? by Elaine Moore, Troll, 1994 (sports, ages 10-13)
Run For Your Life, by Marilyn Levy, Houghton, 1996 (sports, ages 13-14)
Number the Stars, by Lois Lowry, Houghton, 1989 (historical fiction, ages 9-12)
The Ballad of Lucy Whipple, by Karen Cushman, Houghton, 1996 (historical fiction, ages 8-11)
The Midwife's Apprentice, by Karen Cushman, Clarion, 1995 (historical fiction, ages 11-14)
Catherine, Called Birdy, by Karen Cushman, Clarion, 1994 (historical fiction, ages 8-11)
Ella Enchanted, by Gail Carson Levine, HarperCollins, 1997 (fantasy/science fiction, ages 8-11)
Dealing With Dragons, by Patricia C. Wrede, Harcourt Brace 1990 (fantasy/ science fiction, ages 8-11, the first in a series of four books called The Enchanted Forest Chronicles)
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By Christine Schoefer
Christine Schoefer is a Berkeley, California, writer with two daughters. She has written for Mothering, The Nation, The Los Angeles Times, and many other publications.
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