Anne of Green Gables – Bitch Flicks

Seed & Spark: Beyond the Bechdel Test: Strong Female Friendships on Screen

On screen male friendships are portrayed completely differently than their female counterparts. Boys have rebellious adventures together for adventures sake (e.g. ‘Kings of Summer’). Boys pull off heists together (e.g. ‘Oceans 11′). Boys are “bros” and seem to get along for the most part.

But girls are a different story. Girls fight over boys (e.g. ’27 Dresses,’ ‘Something Borrowed’). Girls are catty (e.g. ‘Bride Wars’). Girls are overly dramatic (e.g. ‘I Hate Valentines Day’).

This is a guest post by Molly McGaughey.

When I was 10 years old, there was one thing I knew I needed more than anything else—even more than a drum set (and I was pretty sure I had to have one of those). There was one thing that trumped most other prized possessions.

I always knew that I needed to have a bosom friend. Why? Anne of Green Gables told me so. A few hours each week were spent playing the movie over and over and watching the overly imaginative redhead get into mischief with her kindred spirit, Dianna.

I related so much to Anne: the way she let her imagination get the best of her, the way she went on adventures with Dianna and the way that, though they didn’t quite turn out as planned, those adventures were poetic just the same. Because anything can be marvelous when you have imagination and a bosom friend, of course.

For my 11^th birthday, I finally got that drum set that I wanted. Sure it was patched up with duct tape and from a yard sale, but it was mine and it was wonderful.

I was thrilled. That is, until I told a neighbor about it. He promptly informed me: “Drums aren’t for girls.”

Though new to me at the time, the process of deciding what is and isn’t for girls or boys started centuries ago. Strangely, it often applies to more than objects, extending even beyond hobbies and careers to relationships. Certain kinds of relationships have been deemed “normal” for each gender.

And, as a film-lover, I can’t help but wonder if the stories told on screen affect why we have certain expectations of same gender friendships.

On screen male friendships are portrayed completely differently than their female counterparts. Boys have rebellious adventures together for adventures sake (e.g. Kings of Summer). Boys pull off heists together (e.g. Oceans 11). Boys are “bros” and seem to get along for the most part.

But girls are a different story. Girls fight over boys (e.g. 27 Dresses, Something Borrowed). Girls are catty (e.g. Bride Wars). Girls are overly dramatic (e.g. I Hate Valentine’s Day).

As I grew older and watched less of Anne and Dianna and more of modern day “chick flicks,” I felt my expectations about female friendships shift. But let’s get one thing clear: I think it is unlikely that female friendships are drama-filled because that’s how our gender is programmed to behave. It is time to consider that this is a reflection of what we’ve seen portrayed on screen.

We’ve all hopefully heard about the Bechdel test at this point. We know that strong female protagonists are few and far between in the world of motion pictures. But a vital facet that often gets overlooked is that even when women are portrayed, strong female friendships are not.

Time and time again, when two guy friends are in a movie, it’s an adventurous buddy comedy romp, but the minute that girls are paired together it’s because they are competing for a guy. Or, when that is not the case, one exists just to listen to the other’s problems (and, thus, speed up the storytelling). A third option is that the friends backstab, gossip, and their friendship breaks up. These female friendships are not often a semblance of a healthy relationship.

Have you ever noticed how much girls fight on screen? Whether it be friends or sisters or an evil stepmother, it seems to be a much more common trope for female characters. Can you imagine the latest buddy comedy featuring two guys that try to sabotage each other to get the girl while an evil stepfather looms in the background? Why is that not a thing?

Think about it next time you pop in a “mindless chick flick” starring a group of girlfriends who tend to be dramatic or the next time you stop by the theatre to see the latest action adventure featuring two guys that pull off insane heists together, without an argument. Think about it the next time you see an evil stepmother paired with a father that is totally chill. Are we allowing what’s on screen to dictate what kind of interpersonal friendships each gender should or probably will have?

Movies show us what’s normal. They show us how to be, giving us something to aspire to. When we see dream chasers, friendships, and true love on screen, we want it. So it’s important to have a better representation of what friendship, sisterhood, and girlhood really means.

As an independent filmmaker, I want to tell stories that better represent female friendships and the adventures to be had through kindred spirits on screen.

The latest short film I’m directing, Live a Little, while totally unique from Anne of Green Gables, just happens to be about a spunky, imaginative, talkative redhead and her best buddy. They must conquer an overly ambitious bucket list by the end of the day. Chick flicks don’t have to be about romance or cattiness. It can also be a genre about kindred spirits doing what kindred spirits do best—having adventures.

Molly McGaughey is a director, writer, performer based out of Manhattan. She is crowdfunding for her latest film “Live a Little” on Seed & Spark. She can be found on the internet at mollyvivian.com and also founded The Not So Starving Artist, an online resource for Performers, Filmmakers and Writers. Her comedic directing work has been featured on comedytvisdead, funnynotslutty, playbill, backstage and more. Molly is also a character actress with an affinity for improv and standup. You can find her on Twitter at @Molls_MCG.

Children’s Television: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts for our Children’s Television Theme Week here.

The Feminism of Sailor Moon by Myrna Waldron

This has been a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. I’m an absolutely die-hard fan of Sailor Moon, and part of that is because it served as my childhood introduction to feminism. That might be a little bit hard to believe, considering the superheroines of the show are known for outfits not much more revealing than Wonder Woman’s. Silly outfits aside (you get used to them), this show was absolutely groundbreaking. Its protagonists are 10 realistically flawed, individual and talented teenage girls (and women) who, oh, you know. Save the world.

Why Jessie is the Worst Show on Disney Channel by Katherine Filaseta

For those who don’t know, this is a Disney Channel series about a girl from Texas who moves to New York City and becomes nanny for a Brangelina couple with four adopted children from around the world. If done well, it could allow for very educational programming for children about diversity and identity. Spoiler alert: it hasn’t been done well. It’s been done terribly.

Was Jem and the Holograms a Good Show for Little Girls? by Amanda Rodriguez

Though the show’s focus on romantic love, fashion, and female rivalry are of dubious value, there are definitely a lot of good things going on with Jem & the Holograms: the notion that fame and fortune should be used for philanthropic means, that female friendships can be strong and form an important network of support, and that a sense of community is crucial.

She-Ra: Kinda, Sorta Accidentally Feministy by Amanda Rodriguez

She-Ra: Princess of Power represents a network of powerful women who not only like each other, but they support each other, organize a rebellion against an oppressive patriarchal regime, and get shit done. The example this powerful group of women set for impressionable girls like myself is tremendous.

Why I Love Adventure Time by Myrna Waldron

Adventure Time is a Cartoon Network animated series that combines surrealistic comedy, fantasy and science-fiction. Based on a 2008 short by Pendleton Ward that went viral, it parodies the tropes, archetypes and cliches of fairy tales, video games and childhood action figure battles. The basic premise is about Finn, the last remaining human, and his best friend/adoptive brother Jake (a shape-shifting dog), going on your typical slay-the-monster-save-the-princess adventures. Now in its fourth season, it’s an enormous hit with all genders and age groups and shows no signs of slowing down. And let me tell you, as a feminist, why I am absolutely celebrating this show.

Anne of Green Gables: 20th Century Girl by Ren Jender

What makes good television programming “for children” is elusive. No demographic is unanimous in its tastes, but children differ from one another more than other groups: what fascinates a 4-year-old can bore an 11-year-old and vice versa. Add to this problem that most critics and programming creators are not children themselves, and we can see why most children’s programming is so terrible: because it, even more than other types of art, is based on, to quote Jane Wagner “a collective hunch.” Still, like a Supreme Court justice famously said about pornography, most of us, even those of us who don’t have children, can recognize excellent children’s programming when we see it, like the 80s made-for-television Anne of Green Gables, based on the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Hey Arnold! A Bold Children’s Show by Nia McRae

Hey Arnold! taught life lessons without the viewer realizing it. An episode called “Stoop Kid” taught kids about the benefits of getting out of their comfort zone. The episode “Chocolate Boy” humorously analogized drug addiction. Arnold’s closeness with Gerald alongside Helga’s rapport with Phoebe highlighted the importance of friendship. The wrongness of first impressions was a reoccurring lesson; a dumb character would have moments of wisdom or a snobby character would have moments of vulnerability or a seemingly lucky rich kid would be shown as unhappy and/or overstressed. My favorite example of this message is in the episode “Ms. Perfect”, which introduced the character of Lila. Her popularity caused female students to envy her at first. But once they learned about Lila’s troubled life, the girls apologized and accepted her.

Gravity Falls: Manliness, Silliness, and a Whole Lot of Awesome by Max Thornton

Figuring out who you are in the face of societal pressures that buffet you every which way is the trial of growing up, and helping people to do that is one of feminism’s goals. It’s also at the heart of Gravity Falls, which helps cement this for me as an exciting show.

Celebrating Sesame Street by Leigh Kolb

So what does idealistic, feminist children’s television look like? It looks like Sesame Street, which over the course of its 45-year run has won more than 120 Emmy Awards. Sesame Street‘s frank and honest treatment of race, women’s rights, adoption, breastfeeding, death, childbirth, incarceration, divorce, HIV, health, bilingualism, and poverty throughout the years has added a dimension of social understanding to a show that also deals with teaching children their ABC’s and 123’s.

Adventure Time – Why Lumpy Space Princess is Important by Gaayathri Nair

LSP’s character design can barely be called feminine in the ways that we as a society code things feminine. This is especially true if you compare her to other female characters on Adventure Time such as Flame Princess and Princess Bubblegum. Her gender markers are the fact that her name is Lumpy Space Princess, the fact that she is pink, and that her speech takes on the patterns and vernacular of a valley girl although her actual voice is low and not immediately parse-able as feminine. The other main gender marker of LSP is the fact that she is into traditionally feminine things such as shopping and make up.

Steven Universe: A Superhero Team We Can Believe In by Megan Wright

Steven Universe embraces non-traditional families. Steven is a perfectly happy kid, who is raised by three women who love him. The Gems are wonderful guardians for Steven, acting as mothers, sisters, and leaders to him. Even though the Gems and Steven don’t always see eye to eye, they always try to step beyond their comfort zones for one another. The Gems may not understand the concept of video games, but if Steven wants to go to an arcade, then they’ll go. If Steven wants to throw them several birthdays for the thousands of ones they haven’t celebrated, they’ll let him dress like a clown and play party games with them, because even though they don’t understand it, it clearly means a lot to Steven.

Friendship Is More Than Magic: Feminism and Relationships in Puella Magi Madoka Magica by Kathryn Diaz

Imagine a world where young girls are trapped in a system that sees them as commodities. Imagine that any girl could be tricked into giving herself up to a life that is by all appearances filled with magic, beauty, excitement, and good, but exists to feed off the energy of their spirit. The girls are purposely pushed to their limits. When they have become too cynical or burdened, the system condemns them and sends in younger counterparts to pick them off. Imagine that these girls are pitted against each other, that once they have been lured in with heroic, fairy tale trappings, they are encouraged to turn around and use the power that they should be grateful for to use and destroy each other. At the top of this system sits a small white creature. He just can’t understand why girls get so upset when they learn the facts of life they signed up for.

…..That wasn’t very hard to imagine after all, was it?

The Magic Garden: Female Leaders In Children’s Television by Hayley Krischer

With their soft voices and pigtails Paula and Carole had a purpose: they created a serene little oasis while sitting on swings and singing, calling kids to “come and see our garden grow.” In The Magic Garden, there was a garden of make-believe where the “magic tree grows lollypop sticks.” Paula picked on her guitar and Carole encouraged you to stamp your feet or clap your hands on the “pop” during “Pop Goes the Weasel” without sounding like a droning fire alarm. Watching an episode of The Magic Garden was like going to a music class—the women pushed kids to sing faster and faster with the speed of the music, harmonizing and smiling, their easy melody a break of sorts to all of the outside noise.

Better Than Two: Female Power Trios in Children’s TV by Emanuela Betti

Power Trios in children’s TV, like duos, are still composed of oversimplified types and characters, yet they also suggest that femininity is not so black and white. Three character ensembles introduce characters types than are on a greyer scale than the polar-extremes of the Light/Dark Feminine trope. In the case of female Power Trios, the formula consists of three characters that respectively represent beauty, brains, and strength. Characters representing beauty are usually ditzy and childish, but they are also sensitive and the mediators (so if they happen to be “dumb” they’re at least depicted with a good heart); characters representing brains are sometimes the group leaders, but also rational without being distant or cold; finally, characters representing strength are usually impulsive and hot-headed, but their rash tendencies are balanced out with a loyal nature.

The Imaginary World of Mona the Vampire by Elizabeth Kiy

The series chronicled the adventures of Mona Parker, a young girl who enjoys dressing up like a vampire and sees saving her town from monsters as her mission in life. The stories are Buffy-lite: a giant bug substitute teacher, a robot babysitter, doppelgängers, a computer virus with mind-control powers, and new cafeteria cooks who aim to poison the school with salmonella. Though the show often pulls out from Mona’s fantasies to reveal the reality of the situation, Mona’s fights against the forces of darkness, usually end up somehow solving the crime or prank, exposing a conspiracy or locating the lost item anyway.

Exploring Imagination and Feminine Effacement in Cartoon Network’s Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends by Jenny Lapekas

Why examine this offbeat show through a feminist or ethical lens? Because Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends (Craig McCracken, 2004-2009) is wildly inventive and subversive. Its plot, which explains that children’s imaginary friends must eventually go live at Madame Foster’s zany orphanage after he or she has outgrown their friend, insists that a child’s imagination has the power to make something real, whether adults believe it or not. At this home, young children are welcome to come and “adopt” one of the friends who is housed there. In this way, the friends are concepts that are “recycled” in order to accommodate children as they grow up.

Adventure Time vs Regular Show by Amanda Lyons

There is one thing that, for me, gives Adventure Time a bit of an edge over Regular Show, and it’s been compounded after sitting through a two-hour back-to-back marathon of both shows over the weekend. It boils down to this: while both cartoons are awesome, Regular Show is pretty much a bro-zone while Adventure Time has a bit more room for the ladies.

Pepper Ann: Pepper Ann Much Too Cool Not To Be On DVD: A Letter to Disney by Janyce Denise Glasper

Behind black rounded glasses is Pepper Ann–a puffy red haired chick wearing eccentric style complete with black and white sneakers. An overall normal girl living in a normal world. In the town of Hazelnut, this humorous hip nerd lit up our shared television screen over vast bowls of high sugared cereal bowls. Like my sister, tomboy Pepper Ann played video games, adored roller blades, and sports while Pepper Ann’s precocious best friend Nicky loved books and had an indie spirit vibe like me. Wide range of diverse characters included Pepper Ann and Nicky’s other bff Hawaiian Milo, a rotund Swiss boy, typical popular blond chicks, and African American twins. There seemed to be a treat for everyone.

Pokemon: Escapist Fantasy for the Budding Feminist Child by Nia McRae

Should a writer depict a world that mirrors reality and show the problems within it or should s/he depict the ideal world we want to live in? Pokemon leans more to the latter. Pokemon, just like Star Trek, depicts a world that’s egalitarian or at the very least, very close to it. It’s a world where gender, race, and sexual orientation appear to be irrelevant. As a kid, I couldn’t articulate very well why I loved Pokemon so much but now I can. My joy was due to many things in the show; the adventures which encouraged my love of travel, the fun and catchy songs and most notably, the strong presence of dynamic, ambitious, and fun female characters.

‘Anne of Green Gables’: 20th Century Girl

What makes good television programming “for children” is elusive. No demographic is unanimous in its tastes, but children differ from one another more than other groups: what fascinates a 4-year-old can bore an 11-year-old and vice versa. Add to this problem that most critics and programming creators are not children themselves, and we can see why most children’s programming is so terrible: because it, even more than other types of art, is based on, to quote Jane Wagner “a collective hunch.” Still, like a Supreme Court justice famously said about pornography, most of us, even those of us who don’t have children, can recognize excellent children’s programming when we see it, like the 80s made-for-television ‘Anne of Green Gables,’ based on the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Written by Ren Jender as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

When I was a kid, in the 1970s, children’s television was…strange. As more than one person has pointed out many programs from that period–with their talking golden flutes, soft-rock singers who are part insect, part human and a bizarre underworld in a magician’s hat–seem to owe more to late 60s psychedelia than any common guidelines–besides the obvious ones that prohibit sex, swearing and gore. As critic Pauline Kael pointed out in a review of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, a lot of films that are meant “for children” (including some Disney films) have scenes in them that leave their intended audience profoundly upset, like the death of Bambi’s mother or Dumbo’s mother (hmmm, another mother) chained and imprisoned. Kael recommended a list of films made for adults that were also appropriate for children because all too often films “for children” are the repository for acting that’s too awkward, plots that are too recycled, and scripts that are too terrible to pass muster with an adult audience.

What makes good television programming “for children” is similarly elusive. No demographic is unanimous in its tastes, but children differ from one another more than other groups: what fascinates a 4-year-old can bore an 11-year-old and vice versa. Add to this problem that most critics and programming creators are not children themselves, and we can see why most children’s programming is so terrible: because it, even more than other types of art, is based on, to quote Jane Wagner, “a collective hunch.” Still, like a Supreme Court justice famously said about pornography, most of us, even those of us who don’t have children, can recognize excellent children’s programming when we see it, like the 80s made-for-television Anne of Green Gables, based on the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

The title character (played to perfection by Megan Follows) is a girl (12 years old at the beginning) who is at turns dreamy, dramatic, exploited (as an orphan at the turn of the 20th century, her role in the households that “take her in” is often to care for many other younger children) and impetuous. She recites from books of poetry to get away from the drudgery of her everyday life and speaks to her own reflection in window panes to allay her loneliness. Although she encounters cruelty (as many other girl protagonists in literature, films and TV set in that era do, especially those who are orphans), her love of literature and her imagination have given her a combination of hopefulness and resilience not often seen in other girl characters.

The place where she finds what would now be called a “forever family” is an unlikely one–a small town on Prince Edward Island, Avonlea, in the title home of Marilla (Colleen Dewhurst) and Matthew (Richard Farnsworth) an unmarried brother-sister pair who are closer to the age of grandparents than most foster or adoptive parents would be. Originally they had requested from the orphanage a 13-year-old boy to help out on their farm, and when they see the orphanage has sent them a girl, plan to send her back. But loquacious Anne first charms Matthew, then stern Marilla (who is also reluctant to send Anne to another large family which seems intent on working her to death), so Anne stays for “a trial” that soon ends. She becomes a permanent member of the family.

Dewhurst and Farnsworth were award-winning stage and movie stars in the latter part of their careers, but they don’t have the vanity in their parts that more contemporary stars would: their worn tan faces, with prominent cheekbones, make them look like the older, hard-working (though prosperous) denizens of a farmhouse that these characters are. And because they, along with Follows, are so skilled, they bring a resonance to their scenes, especially those where they show their love for Anne. Farnsworth is especially endearing in a scene at the general store when he postpones buying a party dress for Anne (an item which, as a bachelor farmer, he’s never bought before) by asking for twenty pounds of sugar. Anne never takes their name (her own last name is “Shirley”) and calls them by their first names, never “Mom and Dad” or even “Aunt and Uncle” but the three are very much a loving, if non-traditional family. When the pair see Anne off to a larger town so she can continue her education, Matthew tells Marilla how lucky they were that the orphanage sent them her instead of a boy, Marilla answers, “It wasn’t luck. It was providence. He knew we needed her.”

Although the book was first published in 1908, very close to the time it portrays the TV movie (which has the look of a theatrical release, full of beautiful Prince Edward Island vistas) doesn’t have the sexism that can mar the literature of the past. Everyone (even the town gossip) takes Anne’s education (and the accolades she wins for her studies) seriously, though, in keeping with the period, Diana (Schuyler Grant) Anne’s “bosom friend” who accurately predicts when they first meet, “we’re going to get along really well”, is not allowed to continue school past a sophomore high school level and is instead expected to learn how to keep house.

The other characters are very much of their time too, in their dress, their speech (Marilla, when Anne tells her she doesn’t know how to pray, later tells Matthew she’s a “heathen”) their wall-papered, quilted and curtained houses and unsullied landscapes. Green Gables never has the kind of careless anachronism that even programs that pride themselves on their period accuracy, like Mad Men, do.

Gilbert (Jonathan Crombie) the boy who will become Anne’s love interest (though not until the very end, and with no kissing, so children who hate love scenes are safe) teases her when they first meet, at the town’s one-room schoolhouse, calling her “Carrot” because of her red hair. But instead of giggling, pouting or crying (the go-to reactions for girls in literature, TV and movies) she breaks a slate (which the children write on instead of paper) over his head.

Both Anne and Diana are drawn to Gilbert, but they don’t compete for his attention, realizing their friendship is far too central to their lives to ruin for a boy, even in their small town where the selection of potential “beaus” is limited. Green Gables is full of observations about living in a small community (which can also apply to living in the super-small communities of family–or a relationship): often showing Anne finding affinities and support from characters (many of them women) who seem unlikely allies at first.

Gilbert, although he is often Anne’s main rival for prizes and scholarships at school still respects her intelligence: early in their acquaintance he is rumored to tell a friend, “smart is better than pretty.” But Anne, though she begins Green Gables in pigtails, a smock and a tattered straw hat becomes a poised Gibson girl and a teacher by the end, with a cameo at her neck and gloves on her hands, her hair worn “up”–both beautiful and smart.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czJi_FpLBYY&feature=kp”]

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Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing besides appearing every week on Bitch Flicks has appeared in The Toast, xoJane and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender.

Classic Literature Film Adaptations Week: A Love Letter to ‘Anne of Green Gables’

Megan Follows as Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables (1985)

I’ve admired strong, intelligent and assertive women and girls for as long as I can remember.

When I was 3 years old, I danced to my mom’s Tina Turner albums while donning my Wonder Woman Underoos or my Princess Leia gown. I proudly asserted my female identity – even changing my name to “Girl” when I was a toddler. But my favorite pastime by far? Reading. Books transported me to another world, spiriting me away from my painful childhood. I was especially drawn to strong female protagonists: Karana in Island of the Blue Dolphins, Miyax in Julie of the Wolves, Jo March in Little Women, Meg Murray in A Wrinkle in Time, and of course Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables.

Anne of Green Gables was my favorite book growing up. Featuring one of my literary idols, Anne Shirley is a 13-year-old orphan sent to live with Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert on a farm on Prince Edward Island, Canada in the early 1900s. When I watch the 1985 mini-series based on Lucy Maud Montgomery’s beloved series, I relive that childhood love all over again. I usually prefer books to their film adaptations. But in this case, both versions complement each other perfectly. Megan Follows embodies Anne, capturing her feisty, intelligent, sensitive, compassionate and defiant personality.

I saw so much of myself in Anne. A loquacious and opinionated chatterbox, she talked too much which often got her into trouble. She devoured books, acting out her favorite scenes. She excelled at school and strived to be the top in her class. Stubborn and bold, Anne is a drama-queen – sometimes describing her situation as “the depths of despair” – with romantic dreams, a vivid imagination, quick temper and an insatiable curiosity.

Forever quirky, she asked to be called “Cordelia” and insisted people write her name with an “e,” as she swore her name without that crucial letter was just too plain. She loathed people making fun of her red hair, letting her fiery fury flare when she slammed a slate board over Gilbert Blythe’s head after he calls her “carrots”and pulls on her pigtails. (Hey, keep your hands to yourself Gilbert).

Anne is also vain. She’s obsessed with appearances, wearing fashionable puffy sleeves and laments the curse of her crimson mane, which she accidentally turns green after attempting to dye it raven black. She doesn’t grow out of her beauty obsession. Rather her hair eventually darkens to an “appealing” auburn and people begin to remark on her attractiveness.

Now Anne’s beauty obsession would seem to detract from her feminism. While this is annoying, I liked that she wasn’t a paragon of perfection. Also, while I’m not sure this was the intent, it seems as if the film and book are commenting on the toxicity of beauty culture. Despite Anne’s proclamations that she would “rather be pretty than smart,” Anne’s intellect, creativity, kindness and loyalty are what win people over. Her relationships and her aspirations are what bring her joy. Not her appearance.

Female relationships are highlighted in Anne of Green Gables, which is great to see in our male-centric media. Anne anoints the amicable Diana Barry her kindred spirit and “bosom” friend. The two female friends nurture and support one another. When Anne is about to recite a poem in public, Diana tells her, “You’ve never failed at anything, Anne Shirley.”

We witness an interesting display of gender with Anne’s guardians, Marilla and Mathew Cuthbert. Matthew was kind, gentle and nurturing while Marilla was strong, disciplined and stern – reversing stereotypical gender roles.

Boys often seem to be revered in media and culture. But Anne of Green Gables challenges that notion. The brother and sister wanted to adopt a boy who would help them on the farm. Instead they got Anne, a boisterous girl. Anne tells Matthew, “If I’d been the boy you sent for, I could have spared you in so many ways.” But he replies, “I never wanted a boy. I only wanted you from the first day. Don’t ever change. I love my little girl. I’m so proud of my little girl.” When Matthew says to Marilla it was “lucky mistake” they got Anne, Marilla replies, “It wasn’t luck; it was Providence. He knew we needed her.” My favorite author Margaret Atwood points out that it’s not Anne but Marilla who goes through the greatest transformation. Anne teaches her how to not only love but how to express love. A boy didn’t save them; a girl did.

While we merely see a blossoming friendship, Anne’s eventual romance with Gilbert Blythe in the following film (and books) Anne of Avonlea, is still my ideal to this day. Despite being written over 100 years ago, it’s still refreshing to see an egalitarian partnership. Gilbert is Anne’s intellectual and emotional equal. He supports, nurtures and challenges her, pushing her to be her best. How could a feminist not search for her own Gilbert Blythe?

Dedicated to her career, Anne relentlessly advances her education with the goal of becoming a teacher. Always independent, she wants to forge her own path and pursue her dreams. She also hopes to fall passionately in love. Yet her aspirations, career, family and female friendships matter equally.

While the word “feminist” is never uttered (or written) in Anne of Green Gables, I have no doubt in my mind that Anne is a feminist, albeit “a stealth feminist.” As Chloe Angyal so eloquently writes:

“On the surface, she adheres to all the requirements of turn early twentieth century Canadian womanhood. She’s domestic, as is expected. She’s feminine and elegant, as is expected. She’s polite and courteous, as is expected, except for those occasions on which her temper gets the better of her. But underneath all that, she’s quite a rebellious young woman. She’s determined to be as educated as she possibly can – as educated as a woman was permitted to be in those days. Anne is an opinionated young lady, and she isn’t afraid to voice her opinions out loud when so many of her girl friends defer to men and to tradition.”

But as Angyal points out, Anne is also “a model for those of us who work for social justice.” Anne struggled through her early childhood, living with a cruel family until she’s 13. Never knowing love at all, she recites, “My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.” Yet despite her pain and loneliness – or perhaps because of it – she seeks to make the world a better place:

“Anne is capable of turning pain into beauty, and injustice into love. She is able to imagine a better world. More than that, she views it as her duty and her delight to create that better world, through teaching and learning or even, simple though it might sound, through treating people with kindness and empathy and love.”

Children need role models. But girls especially need strong female role models because of the inundation of sexist and misogynistic media. Children’s (and adults’) movies and TV shows too often suffer from the Smurfette Principle, revolving around boys. In our pink sea of princess culture saturating girlhood, it’s refreshing to watch and read a bold, intelligent and unique – and feminist – character like Anne.

Even though I wasn’t an orphan, I related to Anne. With my tumultuous childhood – my parents’ divorce, moving in with my grandparents and my mother struggling with mental illness – I was a lonely and opinionated only child, never feeling like I belonged, never feeling loved. I desperately yearned to find my place in the world, just as Anne did. It was comforting to see, even if only on-screen and in the pages of a novel, that I wasn’t alone after all. I had a kindred spirit in Anne.