what is the 'good for her' zeitgeist? (in defense of women's wrongs)
now free from the chains of academic research ethics, i examine the contemporary discourse that makes up the GFH phenomenon.
Last night, I submitted my MA dissertation entitled, ‘The Age of Female Rage: Tracing the Anti-heroine and ‘Good for Her’ (GFH) Zeitgeist through Euripides’ Medea and Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl’. In it, I attempt to capture the quasi-ironic misandrist tones that prevails throughout contemporary online discourse, particularly in the #femcel, #femalerage, and #womenswrongs subcultures. Due to the constraints of academic research ethics, I was not able to fully delve into an analysis of the social media trends that form the foundation of GFH. I plan to properly dedicate time and effort into this research, but for now, I deserve a well-earned fucking break! Therefore, to keep you sexy hungry readers satiated, I have decided to publish excerpts from my dissertation research project that outlines what I have coined as the GFH zeitgeist.
Firstly, I would like to address the indisputable sexism that pervades even today—from its casual manifestations such as not making space for us on the couch or at the table. Or, perhaps, how men tend to neglect housework because it doesn’t and hasn’t ever been a concern for them before, whereas women gravitate towards chores as it’s been drilled into us from a young age that it is our responsibility to take care of these things while our fathers and our brothers move to sit carelessly, full-bellied and open-crotched in the living room to scream and belch at the game that’s been on throughout the entire dinner, not even cognisant of the fact that they’ve been looking past us.
The euphemism ‘equal rights, equal fights’ encompasses moderate casual sexism, as it haphazardly veils the threat of feeling entitled to the legal right to… hit us? And where are these so-called ‘equal rights’ that you believe we have? America currently ranks 43rd on the global gender gap index, a UNESCO study that measures gender parity across four main components: economic participation and opportunity, educational attainment, health and survival, and political empowerment.1 I left a Texas where, I needn’t elaborate, these disparities manifest all too clearly.
The prevalent speculation on feminism is that it’s about equality. It’s not about equality, it cannot yet be. It is impossible to seek equality under such a flawed system. Women’s liberation cannot happen until the patriarchal system has toppled. Men are not and should not be considered the standard of humanity. True feminism cannot be choice feminism. I must remind that the choices available to women are heavily influenced by the patriarchal system and female socialisation. This is why it is so important to have access to education and literature that provokes critical thought. We must realise that the choices available to women only harm us in the long run, thus reinforcing the system that oppresses us.
This being said, I have a fear of coming across as ‘white feminist’. I understand that, given Kimberlé Crenshaw’s intersectionality theorem, my lived experience only allows me access to a narrow lens. But I do not think this hypothetical critique should deter me from researching and advocating for the liberation of others. Ultimately, we all have the same aims: to live freely.
You may ask, why come up with a provocative neologism such as GFH? Moreover, why compare the works Gone Girl (GG) and Medea? To circle back, what keeps these texts relevant to this day and the reason why I return to them is because the circumstances that led to their creation have not changed. The works’ sociopolitical settings seem to have evolved, but have they really?
True, we’re no longer in ancient Greece, but the system which pushed Medea to the brink, and later Amy as well, is uncomfortably familiar. These are conditions we can relate to, even in 2024. What Amy or Medea have went through could happen to you, or me, or to any woman, anywhere.
The contextual nuances have evolved to fit our current social situation, but the mundane banalities were always there. Through a comparative study of these two texts, I seek to expose how alike the lifeworld today is with the fictional narratives in question.
EXCERPTS FROM ‘THE AGE OF FEMALE RAGE’:
In the evolving realms of literature and popular culture, there has been a recent shift towards embracing morally complex female characters who challenge conventional gender norms and societal expectations. Central to this shift is the emergence of the anti-heroine: “a female anti-hero [...] characterised by conflicting features and internal motives, typically generating sympathy from the audience that strives to justify their behaviors despite the accompanying cognitive dissonance of doing so” (OED).2
In a contemporary patriarchal society where women are expected to conform and are often punished when they deviate, the antiheroine’s appeal lies within her characteristic refusal to become a passive victim to preconceived gender expectations. She thus becomes an essential figure within what I have coined the ‘Good for Her’ zeitgeist: a trending cultural phenomenon that celebrates women who take bold, often morally ambiguous action to reclaim their power.
The relevance of these works is further cemented through their unnervingly realistic portrayals of the anti-heroines’ male counterparts. While we have never met a Manhattanite celebrity or an ancient sorceress, we have all met their husbands. As a woman, we have all either grown up with him, dated him ourselves, or consoled a friend who has been victimized by him.
We all know the type of man embodied by Jason the Argonaut and Nick Dunne: mediocre, brooding, and neglectful, draining the resources of their partners before replacing them at the slightest inconvenience. There is thus a certain satisfaction in watching these unrealistic women take revenge on their all-too-realistic husbands, who resemble those men that have personally wronged us and are rarely, if ever, punished in the real world. Amy Dunne and Medea are vehicles for the audiences’ disenchantment with this kind of man, and witnessing these women tear him down is cathartic.
Ultimately, I argue that the anti-heroine, a distinct literary and cultural figure that reflects the gender-based challenges faced by women across different historical periods, merits adoption into academic vocabulary. I contend that the gender-neutral label of ‘anti-hero’ is inadequate to fully capture the complexity of characters like Medea and Amy, as their actions are deeply intertwined with their gender identity. Therefore, the term ‘anti-heroine’ is proposed as a more accurate descriptor, one that acknowledges the specific gendered experiences that shape these women’s actions and how this subverts gender norms.
Only recently has secondary and public criticism been able to manoeuvre around the immorality of the anti-heroines’ crimes and engage in open-minded discourse of the characters and their motivations. We realise the blurriness between our uncomfortable realities and the fictional context, seeing reflections of ourselves in both sets of spouses.
These stories are cathartic narratives, as the anti-heroines become conscious of the power that we all inherently have within ourselves, and use it, regardless of norms, sociological conditions, or punitive consequence. This is especially significant for marginalised communities—women, the queer community, people of colour, and immigrants—who may see a reflection, however big or small, of their own lived experiences in the injustices the two antiheroines overcome. However, we do not have to replicate these preconceived gender norms.
While certain institutions and environments demand those behaviours, we have the power to resist, and, perhaps, even change them.
<https://www.weforum.org/publications/global-gender-gap-report-2024/in-full/benchmarking-gender-gaps-2024-2e5f5cd886/>.
OED, “anti-heroine” (n.), July 2023, <https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/2019382423>.