Smurfette
I was shook when my grandfather told me that I was just a temporary VanGunten, doomed to lose the name, as one misplaces a toy. Around this time, I became obsessed with Smurfette. The other Smurfs have name-attributes: Brainy, Brawny, or Jokey. What is the special thing about Smurfette? Her gender. She’s the only female Smurf. The very nature of “the feminine” is isolation. I learned this over and over, from Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Lady Havisham, and Tinkerbell, who had a little cage where she’d go to pout when Peter ignored her.
When the two of us arrived at breakfast, in matching white dresses, Mom said, “Oh no you don’t. Don’t be sneakin’ Smurfette into the class portrait.” But I disobeyed my mother and took Smurfette to school on picture day. You should see my smile in our photo. I know I’ve been naughty. I have broken the rules, but I’ve lived enough girl years to understand that obedience will get us nowhere. We must seize every opportunity for mischief and rebellion. We must stick together.
She-Ra
We must own our power!
Cathy ACCCKKK’d at diets and dates, but He-Man screamed, “I have the power!” At least She-Ra had more power than Cathy which made a difference. It helped to have She-Ra mixed in with Cabbage Patches and rainbow ponies. At the very least, it gave me a character to play when those name-keeper brothers got the Grayskull castle for Christmas.
Miss Piggy
Miss Piggy knows she’s bacon, so she can’t figure out why Kermit is always playing games. I chased after my boyfriend during the Yacht Club’s pig roast. I threatened him with kisses until he hid under a table, still peeking beneath the gingham tablecloth. The spit turned: Eve with that apple stuck in her mouth. As night set in, the old men decided that since I was the prettiest little girl, I should get the tail. They presented me with a charred curly Q. When I cried, my parents apologized on my behalf—“Sorry. She’s tired. She’s had a busy boy-crazy day.”
Betty Boop
Halfway through 5th grade, I developed a cartoonish hourglass shape. Developed. Like a bad habit. Like a roll of film taken by a 6th grade art teacher who urged me to lean back on my hands, chest forward. Developed. Like in college, when my psychotherapist boss cornered me after hours. “Oh my, it seems I’ve developed quite the obsession with you, but to be fair, I’ve always had the biggest crush on Betty Boop.”
I fell asleep in french braids and a Smurfette nightgown. I woke up with hips, tits and bouncy curls. I don’t recall the actual night. The event might’ve escaped my attention. I was oblivious when my mother and grandmother traded looks at breakfast. In class, I was a “distraction.” Boys who still barely cared about girls, well, they were hardwired to notice. They didn’t know why or what exactly. They struggled to explain their interest, using phrases like “sticky outtie booty” and “square hips.” You go like this and then like this and then like this. They fondled the air in crazy 8’s (like they learned from their granddads.) I bled hot tears and ran home.
I threw myself on my bed and sobbed. Dad was scared. He hedged in the doorway. Heaving, I spit the words through streams of snot “Bbboys...called...me...nnnames.” Dad demanded details. The exact insults! The names of the boys! The names of their fathers and their father’s fathers!
I blubbered—embarrassed—“They called me...BBBbettty Bbbbboop.”
Dad broke into tears.
Aeon Flux
In the era of Daria, I was Betty. Even in flux, I was Boop. By then, I’d leaned into my Clara Bow appearance with flapper hats and dresses so old the velvet looked like moss growing on my soft body. The magazines were heroin chic and Aeon was Jessica Rabbit meets the Terminator. It wasn't enough to be emaciated, we also had to be muscular, but also voluptuous. I was annoyed while watching Aeon Flux with a guy friend who’d just gotten me high (for the first time.) From there, he segued into a make out sesh. Later, he wanted to “address" it, but I insisted we never speak of it again. That was fine by him, he said, because “You can’t kiss.” I took that straight to my ex who was offended. “Your kisses are the best thing that ever happened to him!” So I flirted—“It all depends on whether you like to be mauled”—and we got back together.
That whole sequence of errors can be blamed on Aeon Flux. Clearly.
Aging Anime
In our high def society, a woman’s pores are larger than life on 85 inch widescreen televisions, but candy pixels are more forgiving. I’m not ageless like Lisa Simpson, I'm getting older. It’ll happen less and less where eyes widen at my resemblance to Betty Boop. She’s looked the same since 1930, while I speed away from Boop with the same startling feeling as when I came upon her, almost overnight. I needn’t retire to the cartoon graveyard—when the time comes, I will dye my white hair all the colours of the rainbow. I’ll get those new Astro Boy boots and wear them with psychedelic caftans. I’ll add to my collection of novelty sunglasses shaped like yellow lightning bolts & oversized pineapples. It’ll be full-on Studio Ghibli. I’ll be toonier than ever.
Smurfette
I was shook when my grandfather told me that I was just a temporary VanGunten, doomed to lose the name, as one misplaces a toy. Around this time, I became obsessed with Smurfette. The other Smurfs have name-attributes: Brainy, Brawny, or Jokey. What is the special thing about Smurfette? Her gender. She’s the only female Smurf. The very nature of “the feminine” is isolation. I learned this over and over, from Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Lady Havisham, and Tinkerbell, who had a little cage where she’d go to pout when Peter ignored her.
When the two of us arrived at breakfast, in matching white dresses, Mom said, “Oh no you don’t. Don’t be sneakin’ Smurfette into the class portrait.” But I disobeyed my mother and took Smurfette to school on picture day. You should see my smile in our photo. I know I’ve been naughty. I have broken the rules, but I’ve lived enough girl years to understand that obedience will get us nowhere. We must seize every opportunity for mischief and rebellion. We must stick together.
She-Ra
We must own our power!
Cathy ACCCKKK’d at diets and dates, but He-Man screamed, “I have the power!” At least She-Ra had more power than Cathy which made a difference. It helped to have She-Ra mixed in with Cabbage Patches and rainbow ponies. At the very least, it gave me a character to play when those name-keeper brothers got the Grayskull castle for Christmas.
Miss Piggy
Miss Piggy knows she’s bacon, so she can’t figure out why Kermit is always playing games. I chased after my boyfriend during the Yacht Club’s pig roast. I threatened him with kisses until he hid under a table, still peeking beneath the gingham tablecloth. The spit turned: Eve with that apple stuck in her mouth. As night set in, the old men decided that since I was the prettiest little girl, I should get the tail. They presented me with a charred curly Q. When I cried, my parents apologized on my behalf—“Sorry. She’s tired. She’s had a busy boy-crazy day.”
Betty Boop
Halfway through 5th grade, I developed a cartoonish hourglass shape. Developed. Like a bad habit. Like a roll of film taken by a 6th grade art teacher who urged me to lean back on my hands, chest forward. Developed. Like in college, when my psychotherapist boss cornered me after hours. “Oh my, it seems I’ve developed quite the obsession with you, but to be fair, I’ve always had the biggest crush on Betty Boop.”
I fell asleep in french braids and a Smurfette nightgown. I woke up with hips, tits and bouncy curls. I don’t recall the actual night. The event might’ve escaped my attention. I was oblivious when my mother and grandmother traded looks at breakfast. In class, I was a “distraction.” Boys who still barely cared about girls, well, they were hardwired to notice. They didn’t know why or what exactly. They struggled to explain their interest, using phrases like “sticky outtie booty” and “square hips.” You go like this and then like this and then like this. They fondled the air in crazy 8’s (like they learned from their granddads.) I bled hot tears and ran home.
I threw myself on my bed and sobbed. Dad was scared. He hedged in the doorway. Heaving, I spit the words through streams of snot “Bbboys...called...me...nnnames.” Dad demanded details. The exact insults! The names of the boys! The names of their fathers and their father’s fathers!
I blubbered—embarrassed—“They called me...BBBbettty Bbbbboop.”
Dad broke into tears.
Aeon Flux
In the era of Daria, I was Betty. Even in flux, I was Boop. By then, I’d leaned into my Clara Bow appearance with flapper hats and dresses so old the velvet looked like moss growing on my soft body. The magazines were heroin chic and Aeon was Jessica Rabbit meets the Terminator. It wasn't enough to be emaciated, we also had to be muscular, but also voluptuous. I was annoyed while watching Aeon Flux with a guy friend who’d just gotten me high (for the first time.) From there, he segued into a make out sesh. Later, he wanted to “address" it, but I insisted we never speak of it again. That was fine by him, he said, because “You can’t kiss.” I took that straight to my ex who was offended. “Your kisses are the best thing that ever happened to him!” So I flirted—“It all depends on whether you like to be mauled”—and we got back together.
That whole sequence of errors can be blamed on Aeon Flux. Clearly.
Aging Anime
In our high def society, a woman’s pores are larger than life on 85 inch widescreen televisions, but candy pixels are more forgiving. I’m not ageless like Lisa Simpson, I'm getting older. It’ll happen less and less where eyes widen at my resemblance to Betty Boop. She’s looked the same since 1930, while I speed away from Boop with the same startling feeling as when I came upon her, almost overnight. I needn’t retire to the cartoon graveyard—when the time comes, I will dye my white hair all the colours of the rainbow. I’ll get those new Astro Boy boots and wear them with psychedelic caftans. I’ll add to my collection of novelty sunglasses shaped like yellow lightning bolts & oversized pineapples. It’ll be full-on Studio Ghibli. I’ll be toonier than ever.