The Unlikable Female Protagonist
Graphic by Isabelle Hauf-Pisoni.
As each chapter came to a close in Sally Rooney’s debut novel, “Conversations with Friends,” I felt a strong sense of frustration with the main character Frances. Maybe it’s because of the way she lies to her best friend or the way she pushes away those who care for her. Regardless of her frustrating decisions, she’s undeniably one of the realest female characters I have ever read.
In working out my feelings toward Frances, I realized that what drew me to her was the very nature of her unlikability. Putting myself in the context of the story, I would have probably found her too complicated and unappealing; but, I’m not a character in her world. I’m a reader who gets to look inside her head and connect with her perspective.
And, to be completely honest, my thoughts and choices aren’t always so picture-perfect either.
“I had left myself no one to confide in, no one who would feel any sympathy for what I’d done.”
My favorite protagonists have all the same characteristics: messy, uncertain and self-destructive. Yet, I can fully immerse myself in their struggles because they are representative of how real, flawed human beings behave. It’s not like these female characters are pursuing world domination or anything inherently evil, they’re just making pretty mundane lapses in judgment.
As readers, we crave to see the goodness in every character we connect with. Redemption arcs and enemies-turned-lovers plot lines create the expectation that people in stories will always come around. I certainly felt this way toward Frances, hoping for her to quit being so stubborn and mend her broken bridges.
“I isolated myself from criticism so I could behave badly without losing my sense of righteousness.”
But, spoiler alert: Frances doesn’t spontaneously see some light that guides her to virtue. That urge within us to see her become a better person persists past the last page, just like in real life. She does grow for the better, reconnect with friends and work through internal conflicts, but it’s not because she wakes up one morning with a brand new moral compass. And that’s okay.
Take the main character of Ottessa Moshfegh’s “My Year of Rest and Relaxation.” From the start, we get her caustic insights into what disgusts her, like regular television and human interaction. Or, my most recent read, “The Comeback” by Ella Berman, shows how former childhood star Grace Hyde ignores her parents and dismisses her younger sister as she faces the trauma of childhood in Hollywood.
You want to yell at these characters from behind the page. Urge them to reach out. But, grappling with mental health issues and adulthood isn’t always easy and neat. These stories are so compelling because you get a front-row seat inside their heads as they work out their issues.
I find that this presumption of goodness can morph into not only a craving but an inherent obligation when it comes to female characters, struggling to break free from ideals of femininity.
Unlikable female protagonists ask readers to face the reality that women don’t have to be friendly or sweet or cater to some made-up fantasy of righteousness. Women are allowed to be bad for no ulterior reason—to simply exist as beings with tough decisions to make about tough life experiences.
“Was I kind to others? It was hard to nail down an answer. I worried that if I did turn out to have a personality, it would be one of the unkind ones.”
I often feel pressure to adhere to a very dignified and orderly sense of routine by meeting the expectations of kindness and complacency. From 10-step skincare routines to perfectly curated outfits, the way I present myself often gets conflated with value. Complex emotions become whines of fragility, and poor choices indicate a lack of reasonable ability to function on my own.
So, I love characters like Frances that are just so honest, messy and unsure. Her existence reinforces what I sometimes find difficult to remember: I don’t need to be perfect and reasonable all the time to be worth it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that some women suck, and it would be dishonest to say otherwise. Stories that celebrate the extent of womanhood—the good and the bad—will always have a special place in my heart, along with my affinity for the unlikable female protagonists.
Image courtesy of Lauren Cohn.