The Impact of Sexism and Caricatures: A Personal Revelation

By Angela Greenman

In frustration I push my chair away from the computer and march from the room. I’ve been struggling with my protagonist’s relationship with her adopted daughter in the sequel to my debut thriller, The Child Riddler. The protagonist, Zoe, is a badass spy/assassin. She’s a ruthless killer who acts and speaks without filters. Now, in the sequel, she must learn patience as a caring parent. Also, in her new management position, she’s required to be a diplomat as her agency battles the military for territory over a groundbreaking directed-energy weapon. I can’t find a graceful transition in her growth from cold-bloodedness to the sensitivity required for parenting and diplomacy. 

On the dining room table is a peach envelope from my brother. As I slit it, my heart tugs. He always sends wonderful, glittery birthday cards with messages about my strength and his admiration for me. Perhaps his cards glisten because I read them through tears. We had a rough childhood in a single-parent household that faced poverty, homelessness, and domestic violence. At ten, I started babysitting and dog walking to bring in a few dollars so he could have milk. I took responsibility to ensure my brother, six years younger, was cared for and protected. The birthday cards are one of the sweet ways he expresses gratitude for my being there for him. 

Sure enough, glitter spills from the envelope. Displayed across the card’s front is one word: Fierce. Gazing at the shimmering word, I cringe. Fierce? Me? I’m not violent. I’m a peacemaker. I don’t think I’m aggressive. 

The card contains a handwritten note that ends with “and each year you seem to grow fiercer.”

I cringe again, though I don’t know why. My brother is giving me a fantastic compliment and I admire fierce women. After all, I created Zoe. 

I’m tough, yes. I held my own at the table—sometimes as the only woman present—with strong managers and brilliant technical experts at the US Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and later as a member of the prestigious International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) Corporate Operational Safety Review Teams. 

I’m intense. My drive launched me through the glass ceiling … but fierce? I don’t think I fit the images of bulked-up men with machine guns that fill my mind. 

Propping up the card, I head back to my computer. The book won’t write itself. 

A news headline on the recent US presidential election flashes on my screen and I close it quickly. I abhorred the sexism and caricaturing of the torturous, year-long election. Articles about sexism in the campaign quoted people who describe women as emotional—and who claim this is a negative for a president who must make tough decisions. 

Huh? A person can’t be tough and emotional? Don’t leaders and parents possess both qualities?

Earlier one candidate had combined sexism and caricaturing, saying snidely that his female opponent was “ambitious.” 

Come again? Men are praised and admired for being ambitious.

As a result of his dig, “ambitious” became a negative label that branded his opponent. She was harshly defined in a barrage of sound bites, video clips, and unflattering photos. They presented her as one thing, and one thing only—a snake that would do anything to get to the top. 

Caricaturing happens to male candidates too. But this one-dimensional, sexist, cartoonish portrayal infuriates me the most. That’s because women have been victimized by sexism in all areas of life—career and personal—for too long. 

As if a light bulb flashed, I realize why I’d been struggling with Zoe’s parenting. I saw her as a caricature—as only fierce, nothing else! 

What about me? Why do I feel I can’t be both fierce and a peacemaker? 

Subconsciously I’d absorbed the media’s bombardment of insidious, prejudicial thinking. The title of my sequel, The Invisible Predator, also fits the dangers I see in our political climate. Sexism is an invisible predator feeding on the darkness that goes with our human complexity—the fears, anxieties, and insecurities. The violence in my childhood made me fear confrontation that could lead to yelling and abuse. The nasty, aggressive campaign noise brought me back to the exhausting darkness of my past. Tiredly, I had entered my shell and declared myself to be only a peacemaker. This screaming ferocity is not me. 

But fierceness does not have to be loud. 

In my mind’s eye I saw some of the amazing women from around the world whom I’d met during my decade as a nuclear communications expert for the IAEA. It did not matter where these women were relegated to sit in the room or what attire they wore; intelligent strength powerfully radiated from their eyes. They had a beautiful, strong fierceness. The fierceness was quiet, but it was there. 

I’d forgotten the one thing I’d learned with certainty during my international travels: people are complex. People are raised in deep and rich cultures and exist in harsh and exotic lands. We are not born as just one thing, or of just one thing. Our complexity is what nurtures families, builds civilizations, and sends human beings into space.

I loved Zoe’s complicated and strong psyche so much that I wanted to write a sequel to her story. But while complexity is fascinating, it’s hard. I had allowed Zoe and myself to become caricatures rather than making the effort to dive into our deeply rooted dynamics. I know what drives me, but it’ll take some work to know Zoe better.

I’m amazed at how one thoughtful card can be an awakening. 

Thank you, brother. 

With love, your fierce sister.

—

Angela Greenman’s debut techno-thriller, The Child Riddler, has received 14 award recognitions, including in a Gold Medal for Thriller by the Florida Authors and Publishers Association; Silver Falchion for Best Action Adventure Book by Killer Nashville; and American Fiction Award for Techno Thriller. Website: angelagreenman.com

Facebook: Angela Greenman – Author

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THE CHILD RIDDLER

Despite the angry scars she carries from her childhood training, Zoe Lorel has reached a good place in her life. She has her dream job as an elite operative in an international spy agency and she’s found her one true love. Her world is mostly perfect—until she is sent to abduct a nine-year-old girl.

The girl is the only one who knows the riddle that holds the code to unleash the most lethal weapon on earth—the first ever “invisibility” nanoweapon, a cloaking spider bot. But Zoe’s agency isn’t the only one after the child. And when enemies reveal the invisibility weapon’s existence to underground arms dealers, every government and terrorist organization in the world want to find that little girl.

Zoe races to save not only the child she has grown to care about, but also herself. The agency prescribed pills—the ones that transform her into the icy killer she must become to survive—are beginning to threaten her engagement to the one person who brings her happiness. Can she protect the young girl and still protect the one thing she cares more about than anything else?

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Category: On Writing