Princess Sweat
How A Certain Intergalactic Princess Became My First Feminist Icon
Princess Leia was the only princess I was ever obsessed with. My mom and I bonded over our shared love of cinema and the world of the imagination. My mom taught me to cherish the fantasy realms of childhood, and loved playing with my figurines and action figures nearly as much as I did. We particularly loved playing Star Wars. Naturally, I was Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker and she was Han Solo, Darth Vader, Chewie, or the Emperor (who I mistakenly named ‘The Empire’). My parents didn’t raise me in a household where gender was all that big of a deal. I was into He-Man and Strawberry Shortcake, My Little Pony and Star Wars. It never occurred to me that any of those things were meant only for boys or girls.
Before Princess Leia entered my life, the only other female action figure I ever had was Teela from Masters of the Universe. But Princess Leia was real — she wasn’t a cartoon character.
The woman behind the role knew full well what it meant to fight to find your place in a misogynist world. That woman was Carrie Fisher. Carrie created a character in Leia that was tough, sour, snide and powerful. Leia evolved throughout the course of the films: going from a beckoning ghost princess in a hologram to an out-of-her-element petulant girl-woman, to a tough-as-nails warrior, then eventually to a general.
I would usually take a few of my action figures with me to school. One day, I went over to where a group of boys were sitting on picnic benches under the shade of a gazebo out in the recess field. They were playing Star Wars! I had brought my Luke and Leia figures for just such an auspicious occasion. I walked up to them and asked if I could join them.
“No,” one of them firmly stated. The classic ‘girls can’t do _____(insert blank stereotype)’ spiel.
“Yes girls can,” I insisted, explaining that I often played Star Wars, swore my allegiance to their merchandising franchise, then displayed Luke and Leia.
“Girls can’t play Star Wars because girls don’t sweat,” a somber young man stated.
“Sweat?” I didn’t know if I had understood what he meant exactly. There were a lot of Long Islanders at my elementary school in Florida. It was even named after Westchester County. They used a lot of lingo I hadn’t heard before, so for a moment I thought this was just some sort of weird New York speak.
“Yeah, see.” He pointed to a line of perspiration dripping down his tanned forehead to the crest of his cheekbone, “Boys sweat, but girls can’t do this,” he gestured in punctuation to the trickle of sweat. I was confused.
I pushed back my bangs, displaying the beads of sweat that had been accumulating as we stood in the humid Florida afternoon.
“I’m sweating now,” I said.
“Yeah, but that’s not real sweat,” the boy muttered, going back to their circle of action figures. Shortly after that, a few of the other boys (who’d also seemed just as puzzled by the sweat thing as I was) pointed out that they didn’t have Leia, so I should actually play with them. After all, no one wanted to be The Girl. She didn’t even have a lightsaber.
That was the first time I was made to understand that I did have a gender. A gender, which apparently didn’t have sweat glands.
The fact that because I was from the gender that “couldn’t do things” (sweat, play Star Wars, etc.) was a puzzle to me. Of course, I was used to being told that I couldn’t do things that I wasn’t supposed to do (eat all the cookies, try to fly by taking a running jump from the top of the stairs, sleep in my parents’ bed on Christmas Eve, for example). But being told I couldn’t do something because I happened to be a girl was mystifying. That had never stopped me before.
Logically, I decided then and there that that was an argument that I had no interest in ever entertaining again. I never did. I just decided that very day that, nope. Not going to take that as a justifiable reason for my not being granted permission to do something. At that time, I thought this was just a one-off moment brought forth by a particularly daft boy. Probably something that wouldn’t come up all that often. But, I quickly learned I was wrong. That this particularly daft type of reasoning was something that I would have to listen to for the rest of my life as a girl and as a woman. But, not since the first time I heard it have I ever entertained for a second that this reason is actually valid. I like to think that Princess Leia was there with me when I made this decision.
Princess Leia showed me how to be a warrior.
Of course, Carrie Fisher was so much more than Princess Leia. Some of her most important work can be found in her advocacy for mental health, addiction awareness, and her writing. She was Hollywood’s go-to script doctor and a spitfire wit. She was an intrepid truth-teller, unabashedly brazen and bold, not afraid or held back by fears of being judged for whatever xyz standards women are judged for in Hollywood. But, in the role of Princess Leia and later General Organa, she was also the first feminist icon for many people of my generation. I would like to think that all of those achievements are equally noble and admirable.
Princess Leia, and now General Organa are mythological archetypes extending across the scope of my life. Now more than ever before is it time to look inside where these archetypes lie, and draw on their courage and strength. Pop culture doesn’t just exist for the shallow values of merchandising, it also serves as a cultural marker as well as a font of stories we tell ourselves in order to live. Humans need their legends and fantasy, for those are what sustain us in our humanity. It’s time for us girls and women warriors to rise up and strangle the Jabba the Huts of the world (I’m looking at you, Fuckface Von Clownstick) with the chains with which they would have us wear.
In the weeks leading up to the premiere of the newest installment in the Star Wars film canon, The Force Awakens, Carrie Fisher endured intensive troll scrutiny for the way in which she had aged. This phenomenon was markedly non-inclusive of fellow veteran co-stars such as Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill, and Chewbacca the Wookiee for example. Odd that.
In characteristic Carrie Fisher pith, she had this to say:
“Please stop debating about whether or not I’ve aged well. Unfortunately it hurts all three of my feelings. Youth and beauty are not accomplishments. They’re temporary, happy by-products of time and/or DNA. Don’t hold your breath for either. A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, someone else might have given a fuck.”
Let us raise our lightsabers to Carrie Fisher.
Megan Beard
Below is a link to a mix I made in honor of Princess Leia/General Organa and the woman who brought them to life: Carrie Fisher. Enjoy.
Track List:
Star Wars: Princess Leia — John Williams, Boston Pops Orchestra
Monument — Röyksopp & Robyn
Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space — Spiritualized
Future Politics — Austra
Venus Fly — Grimes, Janelle Monae
Army of me — Bjork
Blue Straggler — Electrelane
Hey Moon! — Molly Nilsson
Space Oddity — David Bowie
This Woman’s Work — Kate Bush
Warrior — Globelamp
Babes Never Die — Honeyblood
Electric Lady [feat. Solange] — Janelle Monae
Little Girl Blue — Janis Joplin
Star Wars (Main Theme) — The Intermezzo Orchestra
