Nusha

As I have stated before in one of my previous articles, I love TV.  I was raised by it and continue my relationship with it to this day. Spending more time searching for great new shows than with my actual friends or trying to find a boyfriend.

One show that I started following is HBO’s new and controversial series, Girls.  Created by Lena Dunham (director, writer and star of indie dramedy Tiny Furniture), the show follows four twenty-something girls living in New York City, attempting to attain the dream set up for them by Sex and the City.  The main character, Hannah (played by Dunham), is a struggling writer who, after two years of support from her parents, has been cut off and now has to deal with the very real struggle of finding a job and paying the bills in one of the most expensive cities in America.  Not to mention she also has to deal with an unaffectionate boyfriend, sexual harassment in the workplace, an STD, writing her book, and the general woes that come with going through a pre-life crisis.

One of the more noted aspects of the show is the incredibly uncomfortable sex scenes Dunham sets up for her characters.  Jessa hooks up with a stranger in a bathroom stall only to have the guy discover she is on her period.  Shoshanna, still a virgin, gets eaten out for the first time, the camera focusing on her tightly wound face.  The most awkward one by far is the opening scene in episode two, titled “Vagina Problems.”  Hannah is in bed with her boyfriend Adam (Adam Driver), humping away and role-playing.  Watching these two have sex is weird enough considering how uncoordinated Hannah is and the fact that Adam can’t keep their scenarios straight, and doesn’t seem to care about it either.  During their role-play, first they meet at a party, then out on the street, until Hannah is inexplicably an eleven-year-old junkie prostitute.

Again, the show gets a lot of comparisons to Sex and the City.  Like SatC, Girls centers around the friendship of its four female characters: Hannah, Marnie (Allison Williams), Jessa (Jemima Kirke), and Shoshanna (Zosia Mamet).  They confide in each other, offer advice despite their lack of life expertise, share beds, showers, bathroom time, and offer general support no matter the circumstances.  Also like SatC, Girls has frank discussions about sex.

What was so radical about Sex and the City when it first aired was the fact that these women—independent and successful—were speaking so openly and, at times, graphically, about their sex lives.  The show made it okay for women to talk about sex without being chastised for it or for being referred to as “whorish” for admitting to enjoying sex.  It was the Golden Girls for the 90s/early 2000s where the women were stylish, powerful, and sexually in charge.

Obviously, my issues with Sex and the City are not so different from most critics of the show—the characters were too concerned with finding a man and fulfilled too many female stereotypes. But my main issue with it is more personal. Admittedly, having watched a handful of episodes growing up, the show did make me more comfortable discussing sex, but it also added the pressure of having to be good at it. The women of SatC are thin, beautiful, and sexually confident women who know how to please a man. I feel this does not reflect who I am.

At the risk of offering too much information, I am not good at sex. I shy away from men’s attention towards me.  I tense up at the slightest gesture towards any private area on my body.  I don’t know how to give a proper hand-job.  The first time I tried to give a blow-job, I kept accidentally biting the poor guy.  I am far from being any kind of sex goddess.

Back when I was with my boyfriend, he asked me once to pose nude for him for his illustration project.  The poster he was drawing called for a sexy female figure–poised and happy.  Though we had already slept together, I still wasn’t ready to stand confidently naked in front of him, and knowing that his classmates were going to see this too didn’t help.  Still, I agreed to do it out of my affection towards him, and with a compromise that I could keep on my jeans since they were form fitting, and that I could keep on my bra.  He sat on his bed sketching away while I stood in the middle of his room trying to suck in as much of my stomach as I could and angeling my thighs to give him their skinniest profile.  He tried to ease my discomfort, every now and then coming up from his sketchbook and telling me how beautiful and sexy I was, but all I could do was try to eye his paper to see how big he had made my waist.  Even afterwards when we made love, I could only believe that he was doing it out of pity because there was no way the girl standing before him, stiff and bloated, was a woman that was able to turn him on.

This is why watching the sex scenes on Girls are such a relief to me. As painful as it is to watch Dunham’s character attempt to text her boyfriend a gawky topless photo of herself, she is a character I can sympathize with.  Just like Hannah–and the majority of girls for that matter–I do have the desire to be desirable, but when I do end up in the bedroom, I feel myself coming up short.  As much as I attempt to be that sexually adventurous woman, in the end, I feel like a little girl trying to wear her mother’s shoes.  Every moan, every dirty word that comes out of my mouth is forced out, disappointing myself for being so disingenuous.  The best I can be is loving and affectionate, but not sexy.  Whether it is right or wrong for me to forge this aspect of myself, I am grateful that there is a show out there that communicates my experience so honestly that it is painful and embarrassing to watch.

Edison

The idea of something powerful at your command is an attractive concept, as can be observed in children playing with Pokémon or in adults playing with firearms. More specifically, the idea of a person by your side who has potential to defend you (or at least carries some air of authority or strength) is a sexy concept for a lot of women. There’s something primal about the urge to feel safe and protected by a significant other. Hence the “Taming of the Beast” phenomenon that is so prevalent in pop culture and is a core aspect of any romance plot nowadays.

There are many facets of the Twilight novels that seem to be carefully psychologically constructed to appeal to girls. Obviously, the ladies will swoon for an attractive man who is devoted and swears literally undying love. But much more importantly, Edward was a vampire, a deadly weapon that was only loyal to the main character Bella, even if he had the capacity to kill anything that moved. Jacob was a werewolf completely devoted to her as well, although he could take down an adult stag for a snack. The appeal to this core desire is something I can trace back to watching Disney’s Beauty and the Beast; the beast was a thug, a big hairy brute, who could exude testosterone even while saying something as innocuous as “Will you join me for dinner?” What led Belle on in her attempts to humanize him was that within that hulking exterior there was a shred of empathy and kindness. Oh, but the kindness was reserved for her, of course. None was wasted on his dining staff, or Belle’s dad for that matter. Yes, he did change towards the end into her Prince Charming, but is that supposed to make Belle feel vindicated for all the times he was an ass to her?

We all know girls who have dated certain gents because they were attracted to his “bad boy” attributes. Some will even admit to it, and whenever I talk to one of them the first thing they say is, “Well yes, he is a bit of a dick. But he’s really nice to me!” Maybe this is a very primal part of women’s psyches evolutionarily speaking, a part of our “reptile brain” as a species. I also think that it’s time for all of us to move on now that we are aware of this phenomenon; many guys aren’t getting the full picture when they see a desirable woman walking hand in hand with the kind of guy whom you might expect to shoulder you off the sidewalk and grunt, “ ‘Scuse me, bro.” When a male like the aforementioned specimen is a dick to those around him, other guys don’t make the distinction of “Oh I get it, he’s only nice to her, that’s how the sexy mojo works!” Guys assume that not only is it okay to be rude and macho all the time, but ladies like it when you’re a little sharp with them. The problem is that taming a man’s inner beast for oneself (also known as being “pussy whipped”) is very desirable from a woman’s perspective but is seen as the most emasculating thing in the world from the male cultural perspective. As long as we don’t see eye-to-eye on that crucial fact, we’ll have a world full of women who wonder why their “bad boy” isn’t being their own personal Prince Charming, and a world full of men who think that being a bit of an ass is a desirable quality.

The image of an “ideal” man or woman is never simply a construct of the opposite sex, to be used as a tool to control that other gender to its own ends. There’s no mass collusion going on here, neither gender is to blame for this; but now that it is acknowledged as a problem, we’re responsible for creating a culture that better reflects us as thoughtful individuals. As a male, I can be the change I want to see by refusing to submit to the idiocy of the whole “Taming of the Beast” phenomenon, since I’ve observed the vast disconnect between what men and women want from it. As a woman, you can also be the change by dating guys who are nice to people in general, not just those whom you expect to make an exception for you.

Chloe

Nearly every woman I know will occasionally purchase what is known as a “woman’s magazine.” Some of us have subscriptions, eagerly awaiting the monthly arrival of those glossy, perfumed pages. Some of us buy them as a means to mindlessly pass an hour or two, perhaps feeling a twinge of embarrassment at the check-out stand as we fork over five dollars and anticipate reading all about “This Spring’s To-Die-For Wedges.” Myself, I fall into the latter category. To me, buying these publications is akin to devouring an enormous, freshly glazed apple fritter: it may be sinfully indulgent – perhaps so much so as to become nauseating – but once it’s over with, all I seem to be able to think about is the circumference of my thighs.

I’m not saying that this kind of behavior is something one should feel guilty about; much like cramming your face full of fried dough, picking up a Cosmopolitan or a Vogue here and there is just fine on occasion, so long as one is able to maintain a certain level of perspective while doing so. The reality of it is this: these magazines embody everything that we as intelligent, empowered women consciously fight against on a daily basis. They cater to the idea that women should value appearance over substance, please our partner before pleasing ourselves, and that the best way to achieve fulfillment in life is to make sure that our cleavage is displayed with just the right amount of visibility that we avoid being branded as “slutty” while maintaining enough sex appeal to keep us from being viewed as “butch.”

These are, of course, categories that women rarely intentionally apply to one another; rather, they are two ends of a spectrum that have been almost entirely crafted by men, and nurtured by the American media to a point that it becomes ingrained in our heads that we must remain steadfastly in the center, with just the right amount of blush on our cheeks. These contradicting dualities run rampant throughout women’s magazines. On one page, a bold headline proclaims that the author has discovered the very best new way to Trim That Excess Belly Fat By Swimsuit Season!, while another tells the story of a sad, young woman and her battle with Anorexia and Bulimia: Silent Killers. Towards the front, an article may detail the Top Ten Ways To Drive Your Man Wild, while in the back lies a piece on the importance of Putting Yourself First: A Woman’s Guide To Being Single…And FABULOUS! The articles are maddeningly incongruous, confusing and generally fail to serve much of a purpose beyond informing us what shade of nail polish will provide the proper balance of edgy and chic.

Within these same, slippery sheets of paper, we are bombarded with opinions, pictures, and examples of how to be perfectly, “effortlessly” feminine, all laid out in the authoritative form of printed media. As any woman knows, being conventionally feminine is anything but effortless. Hence, the advertisements for hair removal products, creams that claim to banish cellulite, and styling tools that promise to deliver sultry locks, free of frizz. What they are selling is unattainable; like it or not, beneath our perfumes, lotions, waxes, and dyes, we are the same, hairy, smelly, aging mammals as our male counterparts.

But it is not the average, twenty-something and up woman that is the most affected by these images and articles. It is the teenage girl who scans the page of Jeans To Fit Any Body Type yet fails to find her own, it is the middle schooler who finds a role model in the likes of the Kardashian sisters and their vapid, materialistic drivel, simply because they are portrayed as the definition of beauty, albeit completely void of character, and it is the young adolescent who sees food as an enemy, gobbling up any advice she can get on how to shed just a few pesky pounds, while keeping a mental note of every evil little calorie that she consumes. These are the girls that we all were, in some form or another, and that some of us still are.

There is no escaping the media and its influences, so instead we must remember to pace ourselves. Though it may at times be fun to turn the rational brain down for a while and amuse ourselves with color swatches and hair tutorials, these fluffy periodicals are the jelly donuts of literature; if we allow ourselves to consume them with too much frequency, we will become intellectually lethargic, driven by a need to refuel our damaged confidence with another dose of sugary garbage. In short, the next time you find yourself turning that first page, make sure you’ve fed your self esteem for the day, and remember that junk food is nothing without that grain of salt.

Caitlin

     I, like nearly everyone else it seems, has been caught up in the Hunger Games fever. While the film was finally knocked from first place at this weekend’s box office, it’s already grossed a more than respectable $365.9 million. I’ve been delighted to bond with several people over our mutual fondness for the series. But now that a month has passed since the film’s debut, and the release date of Catching Fire has yet to be announced, what is a fan to do? There are only so many times you can argue the sparse merits of Peeta vs. Gale, or philosophize over the fact that by being excited by the film, we are placed in the same position as the bloodthirsty Capitol citizens.

     For those of you craving a more thorough analysis of the world of The Hunger Games, here is my recommendation: the completely engrossing The Girl Who Was On Fire: Your Favorite Authors on Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games Trilogy. The book is made up of 16* essays edited by Leah Wilson and focuses on a wide variety of topics, from stylist Cinna’s role in making the people of Panem notice and root for our heroine Katniss (in Terri Clark’s “Crime of Fashion”), to how modern science has already given us a world full of muttations (in Cara Lockwood’s “Not So Weird Science”).

     As someone who has a tendency to read too quickly, I encourage any of you planning on picking up The Girl Who Was On Fire to read only an essay or two a day. Nearly each one has enough content for you to mull over for quite a while. My favorite essay in the book, “Your Heart is a Weapon the Size of your Fist” by Mary Borsellino, has been present in the back of my mind for the past week.

     In her essay, Borsellino discusses how the villain of The Hunger Games trilogy, President Snow, sees Katniss as a girl who either is in love, or is a rebel. What President Snow fails to realize is that in the post-apocalyptic world of Panem, loving someone and showing that love is literally revolutionary. “With every interview and appearance,” explains Borsellino, “[Katniss] declares herself loyal to something other than the Capitol. And love has already proved to be more powerful than the Capitol, because both of District 12’s tributes have survived the Games.”

     Borsellino goes on to compare The Hunger Games to other stories where to love is to rebel: V for Vendetta, and more interestingly (and one of my personal favorites), George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. While the love between Winston and Julia in Nineteen Eighty-Four failed, the love Katniss felt for Peeta and Prim drove her onwards and is eventually what made her triumph in the end.

The piece of graffiti Borsellino's essay is named after.

     Not every essay is an absolute gem. Some are perhaps a bit shallow; one or two failed to  wholly capture my attention. But there is more than enough substance in this slim book to keep a fan satisfied for quite a while. Personally, I think Jennifer Lynn Barnes’ breakdown of how the Peeta vs. Gale debate may actually be about which side of Katniss the reader prefers (a girl who loves and cares for others vs. a revolutionary) is worth the price of the book alone. Her throwaway line about how we should really be Team Buttercup is just icing on the cake.

*Be sure to buy the newer “movie edition,” as the first edition has only 13 essays. I bought the first edition, and am genuinely upset about not being able to read Brent Hartinger’s delightfully titled essay “Did the Third Book Suck?”.

Nusha

I watched too much TV growing up.  I don’t think I can remember a time when it wasn’t on accompanying breakfast, homework, fighting with my brother, or, really, just watching the damn thing. It’s where I developed my sense of morals. My mother was always there to offer sound advice, but nothing ever quite stuck with me unless it was coming from a talking sponge or Will Smith. Such was my attention span.

However, there were some topics my mother was too uncomfortable with to bring up with me, one of which was homosexuality. It would be unfair to say that this was because she was homophobic; my mother grew up in a time and culture where sex in general was a taboo subject and it was something you just dealt with on your wedding night. If talking about straight sex was too much for her, then gay sex was definitely off the table. I was going to have to turn to television for that lesson, and it was one I learned from The Golden Girls.

Running from 1985 to 1992, The Golden Girls was a sitcom following the lives of four single, of-age ladies living together in Miami: simple Rose, man-hungry Blanche, uptight Dorothy, and the sharp-tongued Sophia.  Aside from Sophia’s wit and Betty White’s fantastic comedic timing, the show can be best known for being a gay-friendly series and for presenting views towards LGBTQ rights that were decades ahead of its time. Though I was born just shortly before its cancellation, I still enjoyed watching reruns with my older sister. Most of the jokes went over my head—particularly the sexual innuendos—but I always liked Sophia’s moxie no matter what she said.

One weekend we were in my sister’s room, watching this episode. I couldn’t have been older than seven:

Again, the jokes went over my head (Why did Dorothy cover her mother’s mouth like that?  Who’s Butch and Sundance?), but so did the premise itself, leaving me as confused as Rose. All I understood was that Blanche’s brother, Clayton, was announcing his plans to get married, but I couldn’t see to whom, and I couldn’t see why Blanche was so upset over it. Where was his girlfriend? Why wouldn’t she be there with him for this kind of news? Luckily, my sister was there to explain.

Me: Wait. So…who’s getting married?
Sister: Blanche’s brother.
Me: And that guy?
Sister: Yes.
Me: To who? Where are their girlfriends?
Sister: What?
Me: They’re having a double wedding. Right?
Sister: Umm…
Me: What?

My sister then explained to me that the two men on the TV show weren’t going to marry their girlfriends, but, rather, were going to marry each other.

Me: But they’re both men!
Sister: So? Sometimes men marry men and women marry women.
Me: You can do that?!

She had no idea how much this news excited me. Up until that point, I thought my choices for a husband were limited to the boys on the playground who picked their noses and touched their eyeballs. I didn’t know I had this second option. This was perfect: I could just marry my best friend and have babies with her, maybe even adopt a kitten. I wouldn’t have to worry about any boy and his germs. This wasn’t a plan she seemed to be quite on board with, but I figured there was still time for her to warm up to the idea. Of course, once I went through puberty, I learned it didn’t quite work that way and that I was going to be stuck with boys.

Still, despite my initial confusion with the concept of homosexuality, the moral of the episode was not lost on me and it is one that still resonates with me today. While it took eight or so years for me to be able to confidently laugh at the jokes, the message stuck to my conscience. For that, I have to express my love and admiration for The Golden Girls, not only for introducing me to the topic of homosexuality when no one else was quite ready to, but for also acting as my personal moral compass when it comes to civil rights. And it didn’t hurt that all of it came from an adorable, smart-mouthed grandmother.

Sophia

I’ve mentioned before a certain 14-year-old friend of mine whom I’ve known for forever. She’s clever, beautiful, and fun, and of course she’s miserable. That’s because from roughly ages 11 – 16, everyone is more or less miserable. Pre-teen and teen years are just awful, especially for clever, beautiful girls. When this certain 14-year-old friend of mine tells me about her problems with friends I want to say, “It gets better. There will come a time in your life when all the women you meet will stay loyal and true and not sacrifice everything you two have for a boy.” But how true would that be if I told her that?

A few weeks ago I went to a party with a boy I’m seeing. For a while I was the only girl there, surrounded by boys in their 20s. Finally, a lovely Russian girl enters and we eye each other warily. It is a natural instinct. Will she be as friendly and as kind as I’ve been told by the boys? Or will she just appear to be so and actually be a mean little thing? It turned out she was great, and we ended up discussing this very subject: how girls can be so cruel to each other, so competitive, and that even now in our 20s, it is hard to tell when meeting a new girl if she’s nice or if she’s out for blood.

I hold on tightly to my friends. I’ve been guilty in the past of sacrificing girlfriends for boys or even for other girlfriends who at the time seemed better or cooler than my original friend. Despite the confidence I’ve gained since graduating middle school, high school, and college, I am still insecure when a girl at a party gives me a look that says “Get out of here” or starts grinding on a guy I was talking to. My reaction is a little different now – I don’t run to the bathroom crying – but it still bothers me.

I’m positive this competitiveness has a lot to do with the fact that some women (or at least those who tear down other women) are validated by the attention they receive from men and that our society encourages this. Often times teenage girls will out of the blue make a comment about needing a boyfriend. Not wanting, but needing. And no matter what is said, this need will not be satisfied until said boyfriend materializes. But how can we blame them for this? I know I was exactly the same way when I was a teenager. And it took having several boyfriends for me to realize that the hole in my existence was not going to be filled by a 16-year-old telling me “I love you, Sophia.”

I think we all have little gaps in our souls, but we ourselves need to fill them. We validate our own existence. But honestly, if there ever was a person who filled that gap for me, it was the amazing, clever, beautiful and fun female friends who have stayed by my side, been loyal to me, and not sacrificed our friendship for a guy. These female friends are more precious to me than any boy or man I have ever been with. Because relationships come and go, they change you, help you build what you want out of love. But the truest form of love more often comes from the girls who sit with you through all of that. Who have seen you at your worse but despite this, love you for exactly who and what you are.

If only I had realized this when I was 14.

Audio Interview:

Zoe’s Live Performance:

Gentleman Caller 
By Zoe Claster

When you called
There was a disconnect,
As if someone on the other line
Were feeding you dialogue
In a foreign tongue.

And when I tried to mention it,
I could hear your smile
On the other end
As you tried to talk a big game
While throwing words around
The way a monkey throws his own
Dirty deeds.

I know that sometimes
You like to wear
A suit of nonchalance,
And puff out your chest
Like a rooster with criminal intent.

You’re tough. And proud.
But when you shed your skin,
You’re more like
A new born deer
In the middle
Of rush hour traffic.

And that caught me by surprise,
Because I always thought
That tough guys
Saved their rawest moments
For the showers.

I listened for a busy signal
Or a chance to call you back,
Because I had been dressed
In my heavy layers
Of thick skin
That I wear through
Harsh winters
Of heartless love affairs.

Where men use hooks
Made out of formal pleasantries
To tug at the inside of my cheeks
And reel me into their
Late night fantasies.
And I couldn’t stand
Listening to yet another pompous
Answering machine.

But you
Are not like the others.

Sure,

You might have the devil

On your tongue,
But you are the quivering lip
Before the first burst of
Laughter.
And I am stunned,

I am speechless
By the way your hands
Ask permission to touch.

You “please”
And “may I”
The way my curves
Respond to your fingertips
When you trace the cracks in my back,
And I can’t help
But whisper “thank you”
For treating me
Like a pilgrimage
Rather of conquered territory.

Our voices line up
With our limbs
As we wrap around each other
Like a french braid.
We kiss. Hard.
Like you’re trying to
Confess your sins
Into the outline of my mouth–
There are no pretenses left
No need for forced language
Filled with remorse
No need to “fake it”–

No dial tone.

Later on,
I am left lying
In a bed of stolen covers.
Watching the waves
Underneath your chest
Rise and fall like the calm
Before a storm–

You say “come here”
And throw me across your body
Like a puppet
With no strings attached.

You harken me back
To a time of housewives
Who let their hair down
For the gentleman
Who calls her by her real name.

And maybe,

Maybe later on

We’d laugh the sun awake.

And maybe,

I’d cook breakfast
In a slip dress
While coiling the curly wire

Of the landline
In between my fingertips

Knowing that this:

This is a conversation.

I am yours.
All encompassed.
Just because you asked nicely.

Just because,
You remind me of the buried notion
That chivalry might not be dead
But instead has shitty reception.

I know you don’t like the use the phone much,

But if you get a chance–

Be a gentleman

And call me sometime.

Sophia

Warning…spoilers below!
 

The Hunger Games. I get it. The young adult fantasy genre is sort of our generation’s current fad, the big thing that everyone is diggin’. As a young adult fantasy writer, I can get on board with that. As a feminist writer, I can always get on board with a female lead, especially one like Katniss. Or so I thought at first.

Before The Hunger Games, we had Harry Potter and Twilight. Before Katniss, we had Hermione and Bella. Two very different heroines. Hermione is arguably a pretty rad role model for young girls. She does well in school and assists our hero, Harry, in defeating a powerful and evil wizard. Hermione was certainly encouraging to read about when I was eleven and felt insecure about my frizzy hair and glasses. Knowing Hermione was a nerd made me feel okay about being one too. The author of the series, J.K. Rowling, gives Hermione a lot of room to grow in the course of her seven-book series, and what I like most is that Hermione is not entirely defined by her boy troubles.

Bella has boy troubles, too, except her boy troubles are the focus of all four Twilight books. Bella is sad in New Moon (the second book in the Twilight series) when Edward the vampire peaces out. She’s so sad she cries about it and nearly kills herself by jumping off a cliff. My opinion: not compelling, author of Twilight series Stephanie Meyer! But seriously, this is a popular heroine who is COMPLETELY defined by her relationship with men. We hardly know her in any other way, and that is outright ridiculous.

Honestly, I think romantic troubles are important aspects to include in young adult novels, whether the main character is male or female, because when you’re going through puberty, that is kinda what you focus on… the preferred sex. However, it isn’t the only thing going on. Puberty, or even just growing up, has a lot to do with personal growth- growth beyond being in love. And I believe Rowling does a pretty decent job with Hermione on that front. Meyer, as I mentioned before, does not do such a great job. For me, neither Bella or Hermione really hit the nail on the head. What the young adult genre has been needing is a heroine readers (both male and female) can admire. A heroine who is strong and who isn’t defined by boy issues, or love triangles…

That’s why I was excited when I first met Katniss.

In the beginning, it was love at first sight with Katniss. She comes from a tougher, less privileged universe than Hermione and Bella, and she has real survival issues to deal with. That’s another issue with Hermione and Bella: they are both in school. So with Katniss, you get away from that “checking out the dudes over lunch” scene. Not to say that the school setting isn’t effective, but it’s a little played out when you return to it book after book in a series.

Katniss is also a hard-ass – which, believe it or not, is really refreshing. Although Hermione is powerful, it sure seems like she spends a lot of time crying and nagging the two other heroes. Still, that is pretty good compared to Bella, who has no personality at all.

Anyway! So I’m reading The Hunger Games and I’m like, “Yeah, you tell ‘em Katniss. You go! I hope you don’t die.” She handles situations well and logically. And I dig that Peeta, the male lead, encompasses more stereotypically female attributes – he’s sensitive, arguably more sensitive than Katniss. And a sensitive hero with a grumpy butt-kicking heroine is a fantastic dynamic to be sharing with kids. Seriously, boys need to know it’s okay to be sensitive. One example of this in the story is that Peeta clearly harbors romantic feelings towards Katniss, and when she learns about them she brushes them off. This is in part due to the novel’s dystopian setting, which makes Katniss pretty suspicious of everyone and everything, but it’s also because she has more important things to worry about…like staying alive.

There are political themes in The Hunger Games that are genuinely different from other books in the young-adult genre and I feel like Collins is doing a great thing by commenting on how awful and powerful reality TV has become. I mean, although we don’t have shows where teens are forced to kill each other, The Hunger Games makes you think about the TV shows we do have. Isn’t there something a little Survivor/Fear Factor-esque about the Hunger Games? And when the tributes are picked and given stylists to give them make-overs, doesn’t that just scream America’s Next Top Model or Bridalplasty? One of the most popular shows on TLC is Toddlers in Tiaras, which encourages mothers to spray tan their four-year-old daughters and parade them around like dolls…when are we going to realize that something is wrong here? The Hunger Games is a little bit like Pixar’s Wall-E where even though the future portrayed in the story is just fictional, there is a degree of warning in the message. Something that doesn’t settle right in our stomachs as we leave the theater or close the book. I mean, isn’t this why Fahrenheit 451 is still popping up in high school English classes across the country?

The Hunger Games offers young readers a lot to think about: questioning aspects of government and social economics, and the relationship between power and greed, to name to a few. The Games are a way to keep people oppressed, and this is an interesting aspect of the story that Katniss considers. The social oppression of the games and then her winning seems to cause an identity crisis within her. Now she has the means and money to survive and provide for her family – but this means now she has time to think about who she is and what she wants. And what she wants is…

Hold on. Wait a second…did this book just end with a love triangle? That guy Gale, who was in the book for like the first 15 pages is now a possible contender for Katniss’ heart? But wait, maybe she likes Peeta after all! Oh, this is so confusing… who will she pick? Oh, I have a question-

WHO CARES?! Katniss, did you not just murder a bunch of teenagers? Are you seriously concerned about which boy you like more? Do you NOT have more serious issues going on in your life? What happened to all that identity issue stuff? Questioning the government? Wanting a better life? I liked that! That was about you! Not about boys.

It’s funny. In Twilight one of the key ingredients to the story was Bella’s love triangle – who does she like more? Edward the Vampire or Jacob the Werewolf? In Harry Potter And The Half Blood Prince, Harry doesn’t even want to talk to Hermione because all she’s worried about is her love triangle with Ron and Lavender. And this battle of ‘does Ron like me?’ seems to take up a lot of the plot. Love triangles aren’t always bad things, but haven’t we had enough of them?

Everything in The Hunger Games is written pretty decently, and the plot compelling EXCEPT for the love triangle. Had Katniss’ initial worry in the series been that she loved Peeta for the wrong reasons, or that their connection was based solely on survivor’s guilt – I could have gone along with that. But I didn’t see where the Gale connection was coming from. Katniss never seemed very concerned about love, and the turn was very unnatural.

And in some ways this isn’t even Katniss or author Suzanne Collin’s fault. What is the most disturbing is the desire to spin the Twilight phenomena of ‘picking teams’ onto The Hunger Games. “I’m Team Peeta” a.k.a. “I’m Team Edward.” I think Twilight established early on there was no Team Bella. So what does that say about Katniss?

Like I said before, I think it can be a good thing for young adult novels to have romantic aspects. And romance always has its bumps, it doesn’t need to be sugar-coated. But this was a book about survival, identity, and politics; I think we could have been spared another love triangle and another heroine with the same old boy troubles.