**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post
from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary. If this is your first visit to The
Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that
follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone. In said introductory post, which,
shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we
all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes
with a perfectly clear lens—hence the
name The Scratched Camera.
Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that
follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.** ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~
Hermione Granger—Bossy Insecure Know-It-All
For
a very long time, I disliked Hermione Granger. I, much like most of her peers, saw her as a brash, bossy
girl who sought to push until you knew she was the best. She never very rarely
failed. At this juncture, I could
list all of her accomplishments to insure we are all on the same page as to
just how talented Hermione Granger is, however, I fear doing so would take up
the bulk of my target word count all on its own, without any analysis involved.
There
are, however, a few achievements that need to be noted to show that Hermione
Granger is, of course, an exceptional witch. She’s always the first in Harry’s year to master a new
spell. Of the Golden Trio, she is
the first to master casting non-verbal spells. Often, she is able to cast spells or create potions that are
far beyond her current year in Hogwarts—for instance, the Polyjuice Potion in
second year or the Protean charm for the D.A. coins in fifth year.
You
get the point. She’s brilliant—borderline
genius, according to J. K. Rowling.
And I hated her for it.
Now, after years of studying heroines, I can dissect my issues with
Hermione down to one factor—she wasn’t relatable to me. I was always on the Draco side of
things—always coming up a few steps too short of someone like Granger else
in my life. This made me resent
Hermione a bit.
That
is, until Half-Blood Prince. In the sixth book, the characterization
of Hermione changed fundamentally for me.
Seeing her suffer over Ron’s ‘relationship,’ if it can even really be
called that, with Lavender humanized her. Her issues and jealousy over Ron in sixth year revealed to
me that he wasn’t her only issue; she had a whole series of deep insecurities,
all with the same source—her paralyzing fear of failure.
Of
course, we’ve known about this insecurity since Prisoner of Azkaban, when Granger faced down the Boggart. I, however, much like Snape and Malfoy,
was so blinded by my intense dislike of her supposed superior attitude that I
just chose to omit it. I rationalized
that that simply couldn’t be the case.
To me, I couldn’t see how such a successful girl could actually fear
failure.
This
was, of course, ridiculous. It
just took me some time to come to that realization. But once I did, a new Hermione was revealed to me. This Hermione constantly struggled with
being the underdog and felt she had to prove herself. As one of a very slim number of Muggle-borns, she felt incessantly
burdened by bullies such as Malfoy to validate that she deserved the chance to
study magic. In her mind, if she
so much as slipped up once, she would feel like she had forfeited her right to
a spot in the school. In the mind
of Granger, she had to strive to be exceptional to prove that she could be
strong.
This
last realization has been a recent one and has led to several questions in my
mind. I have read articles that
link Hermione to a concept I’ve come to know as The Exceptional Woman. This character feels a need to be
better than everyone around her—particularly every male—to prove that they
deserve their power and position.
In a way, it’s a control complex.
These characters crave knowing that, no matter what happens, no matter
who or what they lose, they can still, not only function on their own, but excel while others struggle and marvel
at their achievements.
In
a sense, this is true for Hermione.
She craves that control of knowing something Harry and Ron don’t. Although, granted, they’re so dense,
I’m not so sure that would necessarily be a difficult goal to achieve. In Rowling’s own words, Granger feels
“utterly inadequate,” and, therefore, attempts to beat everyone at every
possible thing she can, in the process “projecting a false confidence that can
irritate people.” It is this last
part that interests me and which saves Hermione from truly becoming an
Exceptional Woman. Her confidence
and irritating braggart personality are false,
put in place to make it seem as if everything is okay, when truly she’s barely
able to keep her head above water.
While
I understand Hermione’s need to be exceptional so she can be viewed as strong,
it truly shouldn’t be necessary.
One critic complained that her “hysteria and crying happen far too often
to be considered a believable part of the development of Hermione’s character
and are quite out of line with her core role in the book.” To which I ask—what is her core role in
the book? Robot? Emotionless bag? There seems to be a misconception in
our society that for a girl to be strong, she must not cry. On the contrary, I think one of
Hermione’s greatest strengths is her ability to cry and show emotion. If she hadn’t been visibly upset by
Ron’s departure in Deathly Hallows,
the entire exchange would’ve felt hollow to me.
In
fact, it is moments like those that persuaded me to change my opinion on her to
begin with. Her sadness over Ron
leaving and the misery she feels until his return pressed acutely on my
heart. I suffered just as she
did. When Bellatrix Lestrange
tortured her on the floor of Malfoy Manor, I couldn’t even imagine bearing such
pain, let alone pushing through it to manage to still keep a cool enough front
to lie to the woman about the counterfeit quality of the sword.
Thankfully,
the above critic is the exception, not the rule. Generally speaking, there aren’t too many critics who
dislike Hermione. She’s viewed as
a bit of a feminist’s hero, an idea I completely agree with, now that I’m past
her false confidences. As Emma
Watson puts it, Hermione makes “brains, not beauty, cool.” Watson also claims that there’s a bit
of a trend in media now where intelligent women seem compelled to dumb
themselves down to please others.
This is a society-wide sentiment that I definitely agree is an issue. I’ve met several women who are like
this—purposely hindering themselves because it’s not right for a girl to be seen as too smart. We are, of course, alternatively, supposed to be smart
enough to attract the attention of men, but not so smart as to outsmart
them.
Hermione combats this point of view
entirely. I try to imagine her
selling herself short to assuage Ron’s bruised ego and I almost laugh at the
very idea of it. She knows when
she’s right and there’s very little you can do to compromise her on the issue
beyond that. Not many girls feel
this way; in fact, I’ve met far more women who sell themselves short than women
who, like Hermione, have the confidence to assure themselves they deserve what
they want. Hermione shows us the
alternative isn’t the solution; it’s only building the problem.
This
isn’t to say she’s cruel. On the
contrary, Granger can be very compassionate. Ask Dobby and he will certainly affirm that position and
dump a pile of knitted socks to prove it.
Nor is she a pushover. In
the process of completing this post, I have come to realize she can be quite
cunning when the occasion calls for it. She ignores the hurtful words of
bullies such as Malfoy; or, I should say, she ignores them until she can use
her intellect to craftily outwit them at a later time (Rita Skeeter,
anyone? Oh, that’s right. She can’t hear you from her trapped
spot in Granger’s jar). And,
unlike her book smarts, this intelligence is inherent; she didn’t get her
tricky sense of justice and vindication from a book or an afternoon spent in
the library. This cross between
book smarts and street smarts produces one of the best characters I think I’ve
ever read.
Or,
as Emma Watson puts it, “as I got older, I realized she was the greatest role
model a girl could have.” I don’t
think I could’ve said it any better myself.
From Bella to Katniss:
Is Hermione a good role model?
When I originally set up the somewhat witty name for this category,
there were really only two options for the good role model end of the scale, in
my opinion: Hermione and
Katniss. As I said in my post
about Katniss Everdeen, really the decisive factor was that Katniss is almost too good at staying distinctly out of love. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I judge Hermione for her
feelings for Ron. On the contrary,
I like both girls, and their respective approaches towards love, equally, as
both sets of tactics just fit with the girl’s personality perfectly. Hermione’s romantic foil is Lavender
Brown—a character I loathe a lot more than I probably should, based solely on
the fact that her approach to her ‘relationship’—let’s be honest, they were
basically in it for the making out—is really very similar to Bella’s: very clingy and dependent. Lavender has no sense of self without a
significant other (sound familiar?). Hermione, on the other hand, is far less dependent on Harry
or Ron than either of them is on her.
I suspect Ron’s first worry, upon realizing that Hermione was
appropriately peeved at his relationship with Brown, was to worry who would
help him with his next Transfiguration essay. But my approval of her handle on relationships is just the
tip of the iceberg. She’s
intelligent and unafraid to show it, no matter who happens to be on the
receiving end. Her compassion has
saved lives—literally—and fuels an inspirational amount of passion and
dedication we should all aspire to. But, above all, what makes her a fascinating role model is
her sense of self by the end of the seventh book. She has completely accepted herself—she doesn’t worry about
her looks, her blood status or how insufferable she may appear to be because, or,
as she says in Deathly Hallows, she’s
a “Mudblood, and proud of it!”
Role Model Rating:
9/10
From Lorelai to Wonder Woman: Is Hermione relatable?
The fifteen-year-old version of myself would scoff and bluntly say no,
with an accompanying look as if to say ‘you must
be joking.’ Now, in my early
twenties, I can fully appreciate just how stupid I was then. Hermione may have some unattainable qualities,
as she is distinctly above average intelligence, but it gives the audience
something to aspire to. Granger,
for all intents and purposes, shouldn’t be as good as she is at magic. Ask Draco, I’m sure he could give you
an earful on the matter. And, yet,
she, as a meager Muggle-born—a girl who wasn’t even raised with parents who
could secretly give her hints and start teaching her magic early—can best every
single person in her year at school.
Surely, we think, if she can do it, rise to the virtually impossible,
why can’t I? There’s also a
quality to Hermione that can’t help but pull you in—no matter what emotion
she’s feeling, she feels it so intensely. I like to think I’m a pretty passionate
individual, but I have no doubt that Granger has me beat by a mile. However, from my point of view at least,
her intensified devotion doesn’t cause her to become unattainable. On the contrary, in a world filled with
people who always seem to care far less about the minute than I do—for
instance, that probably insignificant episode of Doctor Who where Ten changed the world by saving Twelve from a
deathly volcano explosion—Hermione gives me a sense that I can’t possibly be
alone in my ardor.
Relatability Rating:
8/10
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