Diversity & 80's Sword & Sorcery

Today's post is a little more personal than I usually get on this blog. I typically keeps things vague and nonspecific about myself, but I believe this is a story worth sharing. (Yeah, that's right. That title goes with those opening lines. Buckle up.)

My love of speculative fiction, in all its mediums, blossomed at a young age. I grew up watching Princess Leia infiltrate Jabba’s lair to save Han, reading about Lessa the dragonrider, who didn’t wait for someone else to save her or her world, and in these SFF characters, I saw myself.

Last week, while reminiscing about Willow—one of my most beloved of childhood movies—I remembered the experience of seeing it for the first time. I recalled the joy and wonder that stunned me into rapt silence as I watched in the too-cold theater with my dad. (You don’t understand, I was six. And I was silent. The whole movie. Me. Not talking. At six.) In Willow, I found myself in a movie for the first time, and it hooked me on fantasy for life. Because in that movie, I saw someone like me doing heroic things, being a hero. That nostalgic memory reminded me why diversity in stories MATTERS.

First, I must share something about myself in order to set a proper stage. So gather round, gentle readers, and I shall tell you a tale.

Once long ago, during a time of seagulls flocking, neon leggings, and breakfast clubbing, lived a little girl short of years and shorter of stature. For, you see, this particular two year old was different than the other boys and girls of the City of Steel. This little girl did not grow.

Yeah. That’s me. I’m that girl. Ohh, twist ending! (Okay, not at all.) After many different doctors and unsuccessful hospital visits, I was finally diagnosed as GH Deficient (growth hormone deficient) at two-and-a-half years old. What does that mean, you ask? Simply put, it means my pituitary gland doesn’t produce growth hormone. Further reading here.

Time for fun facts about being GH Deficient! My immune system isn’t a prize fighter. My metabolism is sluggish, at best. I look several years younger than my chronological age. When I was a child, I didn’t grow taller. I was proportional, just tiny. And I took growth hormone harvested from human cadavers for six months, which means I can’t give blood, because I could be a carrier for Creutzfeldt-Jacob disease. Yup, that’s right—Mad Cow Disease.

Moo.

My diagnosis predicted that without any treatment it was unlikely I’d ever be taller than 3’5”. So, basically, I’m genetically a hobbit.

Now, if you’ve ever met me, you know that I am much taller than 3’5”. I’m almost 5’2”. Because I was a guinea pig. Until I was sixteen, I participated in a pioneering study that genetically engineered e-coli into human growth hormone. (Sounds like the bad premise for a zombie movie, right? Well, thus far, I haven’t died, craved human flesh, or done anything remotely zombie-esque. Early mornings don’t count.)

As a kid and later an adolescent, I always felt like an outsider, because I was physically different, and first graders can be merciless when presented with Different. But I remember my dad taking me on a movie date when I was six, when the bullying was at its worst. That movie was, of course, Willow.

If you are ignorant of 1980s sword & sorcery films, you may have never heard of or seen Willow. (And, trust me, your life is poorer for it.) The movie tells the story of Willow Ufgood, a Nelwyn farmer played by the brilliant Warwick Davis, whose children discover a human baby girl destined to defeat the evil sorceress Bavmorda (which is the BEST evil sorceress name EVER). The movie has trash-talking brownies, and sled rides to safety, and Val Kilmer (fresh-from-beach-volleyball-days Val Kilmer) as Madmartigan, a human thief Willow finds in a cage.

But more importantly, Willow is the hero, and the Nelwyn, his people, are little people. The hero was a little person. This delighted me, and it shocked me. I remember bursting with pride over Willow’s heroics (I was a VERY excitable six year old. If you’ve met me, this comes as NO surprise.). I also remember earnestly telling my parents afterward that Willow and his family were like me, and that little people could be heroes, too. They, of course, wholeheartedly agreed and then introduced me to The Hobbit, because I’ve been blessed with incredibly awesome and geeky parents.

By watching Willow as a kindergartener, in seeing myself depicted on screen, I realized being GH Deficient didn’t limit what I could achieve or who I could be. Stories can widen the scope of what we imagine as possible. Willow connected me to something bigger than my individual experience. It showed me that I wasn’t alone in my struggles.

Willow’s own people bullied him. The humans discounted him as less capable. But he fought on and never surrendered. Despite a desire to return to his family and farm, Willow Ufgood did the hard things, even though he felt unworthy and overwhelmed. Willow depicted a person like me standing against bullies, from Burglekutt in his village to the evil sorceress Bavmorda.

Even though Willow is a cheesy 80s sword & sorcery movie, it helped a six-year-old girl feel less isolated. It gave her the courage to be herself and to stand up for herself, because who she was could be great. That’s why it matters. That’s why stories of any and every medium should feature characters from all walks of life.

If you’ve never been shocked to see a character like yourself reflected in a story, then maybe this doesn’t resonate with you. You don’t see why this is a Big Deal, because you’ve seen yourself in stories your entire life. I’d like for you to consider what it would feel like to have never watched a movie or a TV show, or read a book where someone like you was the hero. Can you imagine the slack-jawed wonder you’d feel seeing yourself represented as a fully realized character? With strengths and weaknesses and desires and frustrations, instead of merely being there for the purpose of comic relief?

While you might want to dismiss Willow as a cheesy 80s Sword & Sorcery movie, the Nelwyn are handled, in my opinion, well. The Nelwyn aren’t portrayed monolithically as a people. You have Burglekutt, who is a jerky jerk-face bully. You have Willow, a family man who gets frustrated and angry about his journey, gets frustrated and angry with Madmartigan, and humans in general. You have Willow’s best friend, who is loyal, but eventually returns home. The Nelwyn are people, and like people you get the good, the bad, and the ugly.

If you’re a writer, I encourage you to consider the characters in your stories. Who are you representing? How are you representing them? Why are you representing them?* This world is diverse and infinitely more interesting because of its diversity.

Every person deserves to have a voice, to UNDERSTAND they are valued and important and capable of amazing things. Every person should have that opportunity. Every person should experience stories about people like themselves doing Great Things.**



*If you’re intimidated and scared that you’ll “get it wrong” with your characterizations, I would pass on a brilliant recommendation from the insightful Sara Ryan. Buy a copy of “Writing the Other” by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward.

**There are so many reasons why diversity matters. This is just one. One that happens to have a deeply personal connection for me, so it is my perspective and my story, and it touches on a much larger, complex issue. There’s a lot I don’t say that should be said, and I’m sure what I’ve said has been said better by better writers. This is just one story, one facet, one example.