Christensen’s “Unlearning the Myths That Bind Us”

Linda Christensen’s essay “Unlearning the Myths That Bind Us” very much validates my views and experiences of children’s culture. While I’d like to think racist tropes, body shaming, and social inequality stood out to me as a child growing up in the 80s and 90s, it was the portrayal of females that terrified me about the society I was to grow up in.

For as long as I can remember, something was not right with depictions of women and girls in movies, cartoons, television, and magazines. I don’t know what was whispered to me, or what in my inherent nature caused me to feel revolted by these portrayals. Disney princesses, Barbie’s, women in MTV videos and magazine ads, the one female cartoon character identifiable by her thick eye lashes and bow – I saw nothing of myself in them. I didn’t try to look how they looked; I didn’t want what they wanted; I didn’t seek the kind of attention they attracted.

Because of this, I genuinely feared growing up, cried in my bed asking God to let me be twelve forever, or turn me into a boy. I’d wake up disappointed by still being a girl. The onset of puberty was devastating. I knew I’d never walk down the aisle in a billowing white dress, and could picture no future that made sense for myself. (I’d now call this gender dysphoria, and back then may have concluded that I was trans. I’m glad I didn’t go down that path, because I don’t feel trans today, but can relate to that struggle. I’m bisexual, if that matters. It was a bit disappointing that Christensen didn't touch on heteronormativity.)

Once Christensen’s teen students studying children’s media started identifying demeaning stereotypes and problematic themes, they couldn’t unsee them. Some longed for their previous ignorance, lamenting “Ignorance is bliss.” That’s a phrase you’d never hear me utter, but my slightly younger sister can be quoted as such, and completely aspires toward the feminine ideal fed to us as children.

Christensen’s students take action by writing and creating projects to raise parents’ awareness about these harms. My own mother was a not-so-radical feminist, pointing out to me that “girls can do anything boys can do, but boys can’t be midwives.” She upheld societal expectations by dressing the part, giving maternal care, bearing mistreatment from my father, and generally behaving within the accepted parameters of womanhood. I didn’t judge women for this behavior, and was not revolted by real life feminine women. I found comfort in my grandma’s care and cooking, and thought dresses looked pretty as long as they weren’t on me. Mom placed no limitations on the media I consumed, which was largely to keep me occupied while she was at work or finishing school work, so I don’t recall her having the time to critique anything I watched.

Jessie Spano on 90s Saturday morning TV’s Saved By the Bell was the first female character I could really root for. She called out sexism, was a vegetarian, protested big oil, and knew her values and fought for them. How satisfying it was in the recent Bell reboot when Jessie’s ex-boyfriend AC Slater recalled of their high school years, "We all made fun of you, but you were the only one who knew what was really going on. Styrofoam is bad. Drilling for oil on a football field is bad. A school-sponsored bikini contest is bad."

Jessie Spano, played by Elizabeth Berkley on Saved By the Bell