**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~
Kat Stratford—Men and Assholes are Unworthy of Her Time
Where
the current generation of teenagers suffers from the Bella Resonance—a term
which here means the effect Bella Swan has had on an entire generation of
female teens and preteens, resulting in a group of females whose top priority
in life is acquiring a boyfriend and future husband—my generation had Kat
Stratford, from Ten Things I Hate About
You. Kat actively works to
defy every cliché that could potentially be applied to females in general—in
the process, creating an effect of her own. But more on that later. The resulting character is an unapologetic, nonconforming
feminist with well-hidden insecurities and vulnerability.
At her very core, Stratford
dislikes the preconceived notion that all girls must fulfill the same set of
clichés and subjugation to males.
This inclination results in a deep feminist center that fuels the
shrewish and tempestuous impression she pervades. For instance, when popular jock Bobby Ridgeway attempts to
hit on her in the lunch line, she is not flattered, as those who worship Bella
might have been. She, instead,
lashes out—and not in a way that is portrayed as anything resembling cute. She’s angry and she means business, unlike most other
fictional female anger, which eventually gets downplayed as fodder—against
him, deeply insulted at his assumption that she will accept him—although, if
you were to ask her, she would adamantly maintain that he kicked himself in the
balls.
This disposition also contributes
to her dislike of aggressive male Joey Donner, who seems adamant that all women
should bow down to him in his glory.
She, unlike many of the other females at Padua, sees no charm to his
personality. In fact, his
assertive comments tend to chaff her to the point of no return, resulting in a
barked response—most notably, the comment referenced in the title of this very
article, which displays her insistence that society prefers men who are
notoriously rude (an observation that is accurate beyond the point of
pathetic in its applications to society).
One final note on Kat’s feminist
front—her opinions clearly serve to saturate and infiltrate her taste in music
and literature. She favors “angry
girl music of the Indie Rock persuasion,” a clear indicator that she seeks
solidarity for her outcast status in lyrics. Her stated opinion on Hemingway—that’s he nothing more than
an abusive misogynist—also declares a demand for progressive literature.
Her insistence that even simple items
of culture meet her high expectations displays a stubborn refusal to conform to
the perimeters for females set by society. As an alternative to the cliché that girls regularly cry as
a means of manipulation, Kat seeks to turn that pain around and often prompts
the crying of others in return.
Unlike the stipulations of the
Belle Paradigm, in which a character is the perfect depiction of what society
expects of a woman—elegant, dignified, equipped with a remarkably endless well
of empathy and accompanying compassionate nature—Kat is often portrayed as
quite the opposite: temper-driven
to an extreme, leading to her frequent label as a “heinous bitch,” as she
actively works to spread anything but joy about Padua. She achieves this goal in a variety of ways;
from declaring it must be asshole day as Donner blokes her way, to yelling at
Michael to improve his driving techniques.
She adamantly refuses to follow in
the footsteps of others, going so far as to declare to Verona that she seeks to
embody the unexpected. This results from a young and naïve mistake—a submission
to sleep with Donner. The choice
was made entirely because it was what everyone else was doing—the popular thing to do. After this blunder, she sets herself to
a determination to go against the grain whenever possible; a trait she attempts
to breed in her sister as well.
Her statements to Bianca—who suffers, according to Kat, a disturbingly compliant
tendency brought on by capitalistic propaganda, resulting in a fetish for the
materialistic and superficial sides of life—that she can do better than her
perky passive exterior, while somewhat misguided, are really nothing more than
a blind hope to teach her sister the very lesson she had to learn the hard
way. Regardless of her sister’s
lack of progress in the area, Kat still sticks to her guns, refusing to ‘people
please’ any further—why, she rations, should she live up to other people’s
expectations instead of her own? Why
should she, indeed, when her expectations for herself and for society are
obviously superior to the vapidly materialistic ambitions of her teenage
colleagues.
Where society expects her to giddily
attend prom, she snarls that it is nothing more than an outdated ritual, meant
to provide boys with an opportunity to feel up a girl. Society expects her to flutter at the
very sight of Patrick Verona approaching her; she instead digs her heels in. Even once she declares her thoughts on
the matter, she can acknowledge that she has feelings for him, but she
absolutely hates that that is the
case, a theme that was carried throughout the bulk of their relationship.
When he implies she seeks to grab
his attention, she sarcastically mutters that that is, of course, her mission
in life. While I know many women
for whom that is their true mission in life—Bella, I’m looking at you—with
this statement, Kat makes it very clear that she refuses to compromise her
temper, personality, beliefs or goals for the sake of a male, even for someone
as attractive as Patrick Verona.
This mentality is applicable to
other males outside of Verona; Kat is explicit in her belief that she has no
interest in dating any of the mindless riff-raff evident at Padua. However, it should be noted that this
does not imply she refuses to date at all, although that is the interpretation
that is commonly drawn from the situation. Alternatively, she is refusing to settle on someone she
finds dull and unacceptable in terms of complementing her—hence her eventual
acceptance of Verona, but more on that to follow.
This refusal to date is regularly interpreted
as abnormal by the common teenage community she is surrounded by—a population
that typically defines things such as Bogey Lowenstein’s party as normal, although that very definition
tells me all I need to know on the subject. This distinction is clear to Stratford, who rejoices in her
resulting depiction as an outcast.
In essence, she is proud of who she
has grown to be and, therefore, refuses to apologize for any hurt feelings that
may result. Her retribution
towards Ridgeway displays this rather brightly, as she smilingly declares to
the counselor that he obviously did
the damage to himself. The
audience sees this again as she vindictively slams into Donner’s car when he
won’t get out of her way, with nothing more than a remorseless “whoops,” escaping
her after the fact. She carries
this a step further, as she refuses to submit to her father’s contention on the
issue, instructing him to inform the insurance company that it was a seizure,
as an alternative to his suggested PMS.
When Verona approaches her directly
after soccer practice, instead of playing the part of a dainty girl, she openly
declares that she is sweating profusely.
Stratford rejects the stipulation that she should tiptoe around the fact
that she is an aggressive and skilled soccer player—whereas, those who hail
from a Bella-ized mentality may have considered underplaying their capabilities
to insure they didn’t intimidate a potential partner. But I digress.
The audience sees this again, as Verona pushes her to talk and she defensively
argues that, had he given her a more compelling topic of choice than cars, she
would’ve perhaps considered conversing.
She is undeniably skilled in the art of debate, a fact proven by her fervent,
if ruthless contributions to topics in her English class. Some may call it terrorism; she
likes to think of it as nothing more than expressing her opinion—yet another
facet of her personality in no need of an apology.
Unapologetic does not mean
infallible. Kat does admit,
however infrequently, that she isn’t perfect. She tells Verona that it is her goal to disappoint people
from first impression, as a method of self-preservation. Regardless of the fight she clings to,
she does eventually submit to Patrick’s persuasiveness and attends Bogey’s party
with him. We catch another glimpse
of vulnerability, as she attempts to pursue the relationship further by
initiating a kiss. While Verona’s
hesitation was a result of nothing but good intentions, the embarrassment and
humiliation that Kat suffers as a result is very realistically presented and
endears the character to the audience—shrew characteristics and all.
From Bella to Katniss:
Is Kat a good role model?
While Kat actively works to subvert the expectations placed upon females
by society, by doing so, she lingers dangerously closely to fulfilling an
entirely different but equally unpleasant trope. Frequently, some creators of female characters strive so
stubbornly to prevent falling into the superficial romantically inclined girl,
that the character becomes nothing more than an archetypal angry rock
chick. This description summarizes
a fair amount of Kat’s personality; in essence, in the character’s attempts to
avoid clichés, she inadvertently ends up becoming one. However, there is a unique facet to her
character that allows her to escape a definitive declaration of this trope; Kat
is one of few, if not the only, angry
rock chick to manage to end up with her chosen significant other. While this could typically detract
value from a character’s contribution to depicting a role model, in Kat’s case,
it broadcasts the message that a girl should never fail to be true to her own
nature in order to claim a significant other. Stratford’s stubborn clinging to her personality—even her less
attractive qualities—and simultaneous ability to attract a male, sends the
message that no girl—no matter what faults they may believe they have—should
need to submit in any way to retain a partner. Kat also falls safely along a scale I have created entitled
the Bella/Katniss Polarization—on which a female, either fictional or
nonfictional, is judged strictly in regards to the prioritization of romance
versus her own internal ambitions as the driving force behind her
decisions. While most would claim
Kat is perhaps a little too far inclined towards the Katniss line of thinking—Kat
and Katniss. Get it? to truly
be a superior role model, I disagree, as she does eventually submit to a date
with Verona and even initiates their first potentially intimate moment. She does, however, strive to apprise
everyone of her adamant belief that romance should not be the center of
anyone’s world, prompting an entirely new theory of mine entitled the Kat
Anomaly—a term applicable to females who decide against the Bella-ized
dominating determination that romance should reign supreme in a woman’s
priorities. This scores two rather
large points for Kat, who serves as a model that girls can attract the
attention of a man based entirely on being true to themselves, and that women
can—and should—strive for other
achievements than scoring an excellently attractive and rich husband. Between these two bullets, I can’t help
but score her appreciatively.
Role Model Rating:
10/10
From Lorelai to Wonder Woman: Is Kat relatable?
Kat is brazen, surprising even me occasionally in her contemptuousness,
which is saying something, as I’ve been told I’m a dangerously formidable foe
once crossed. While I can relate
to Kat’s temper and honesty, she is certainly an extreme opposite of the more
socially acceptable extreme of Princess Belle. She is not, however, above a humanizing loyalty and
insecurity. When Patrick suffers a
great humiliation to win her favor back, she goes to extreme measures to spring
him from his punishment. Her
dreaded drinking at Bogey’s party is a direct result of her feeling of failure
in regards to her father, who, despite his complaining, obviously prefers the
more conventional daughter of Bianca.
The hurt she suffers at her concession to Verona both in her dismissed
attempts to kiss him and in his prevailing betrayal at prom show a distress
that the previous shrew declarations didn’t allot for. Finally, while she was originally
indignant, she eventually rose above her prideful nature to accept a date with
Verona, in the process potentially alleviating some tension from the extreme
Belle’s of the world. While many
clichéd compassionate females may find Kat a hard pill to swallow, personally,
she’s right up my alley; while I can hinder her rating marginally for this, I cannot
destroy her evaluation entirely.
Relatability Rating:
7/10
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