The Feminist Power of Stories

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What does feminism mean to you?

My writing and gender studies professor posed this question to us in the second week of class, which we would answer in our first essay of the quarter. “I don’t want you to give me a dictionary definition,” she said. “I want you to think about what feminism means to you, personally.”

I’m a writer, so naturally, I thought, how does feminism relate to writing? And so I considered the stories we tell about ourselves, about our experiences, about the people and the world around us. Storytelling media, from film and TV to literature and theater, reflects the perspectives, experiences, and biases of the people making it—people who, for much of recent memory, have been overwhelmingly straight, cisgender white men. This isn’t just true of fiction, though. History functions the same way: governments shape the narratives they pass down to their citizens, obscuring or distorting various elements as they see fit in order to preserve the status quo and continue to oppress marginalized communities.

If history, then, is written by the winners, by the people who uphold patriarchy and white supremacy and countless other institutions of oppression, then feminist storytelling is about rewriting—no, reclaiming that history.

Often, that process of reclamation starts on the fringes in small communities on the outskirts of the mainstream. Fandom, for instance, can be a powerful tool for marginalized creators, particularly LGBTQ+ and/or neurodivergent creators, to express themselves. Though media representation for these communities is often lacking, many fans do still see parts of themselves and their experiences reflected in these stories, sharing these unspoken or unexplored perspectives through fanfiction, fanart, and fan “meta” (a loose term for essays and analysis). For instance, my Zhive colleague Julia recently wrote an excellent article discussing The Little Mermaid from a queer lens, exploring how LGBTQ+ audiences relate to Ariel’s character arc and journey. But marginalized fans can also shed light on places where media representation is lacking or problematic, as is often the case with characters of color. YouTubers like harriyanna hook, Princess Weekes, and Rowan Ellis all discuss mainstream media from their own unique perspectives, starting conversations around how race, gender, sexuality, class, ability, and other facets of identity are depicted and the effects that those depictions have on us viewers.

Mainstream media is making slow but steady progress in how it treats marginalized characters: not as objects or stereotypes or afterthoughts, but people with complex lives and emotions. Hollywood is investing in more creators who don’t fit the typical mold of the straight white male director, whose films open our eyes to new worlds and new stories beyond that singular experience. Greta Gerwig’s Barbie takes a humorous yet heartfelt look at the effects of patriarchy on women and men alike. Emma Seligman’s Bottoms gives a fresh, explicitly queer take on the teen comedy by following two misfit lesbians as they start a fight club. And my favorite movie, Lulu Wang’s The Farewell, explores the complicated nature of diasporic identity as its main character returns to her native China to see her dying grandmother.

We’re seeing creatives challenge how history has been told, too. The New York Times’s The 1619 Project (spearheaded by journalist Nikole Hannah-Jones) and Ava Duvernay’s film 13th both explore the legacy of slavery in the United States and how racism remains entrenched in U.S. society. LGBTQ+ historians and archivists work tirelessly to restore a community history that has often been buried, a history where the rich lives and contributions of its members have gone largely unacknowledged. 

The stories we read in books, see onscreen, learn in class—they are all meant to reflect the reality of the world around us. And yet so often, they downplay or erase the existence of real people, our lived experiences, our humanity. Stories shape our perception our worldviews. They shape how we view each other. How we view ourselves.

Stories are an instrument of power, too often weaponized against vulnerable communities to keep them in their place. But we can reclaim that power. Through storytelling, we can reclaim our past, redefine our present, and reimagine our future.

We’re here at Zhive because we have stories to tell—and we know you do, too.