…despite the fact that its ‘three most powerful wizards are male’.
I’ve been away from the blogging keyboard for a while, so bear with me.
I recently read something on, if memory serves me, Tumblr, saying that ‘Scholars’ have said the Harry Potter series is sexist because its three most significant and/or powerful characters – Harry, Dumbledore, and Voldemort – are male.
Firstly, let me say that I haven’t read further into this, for two reasons: number one is that (as an English Literature graduate if nothing else) I would like to think that no ‘Scholar’ would be short-sighted enough to see the series like this; number two is that, as I’ll come to, I can’t imagine this is true.
Let me tell you why, for me at least, it can’t be. Some of the thought process is fairly basic, and some is perhaps not. As I’ve said, I’m out of practice, so this may not be the smoothest thing you read all evening.
Looking a little from the outside in, there’s this:
- JK Rowling was, is, and will continue to be the very definition of a strong, independent woman (granted, I’m being a little presumptuous, but that’s the impression you get from every charming and level-headed interview she has ever given)
- Why would a female author write an inherently sexist (specifically, anti-female or female-dispowering) series, anyway? As a piece of social commentary perhaps, but ‘Harry Potter’ reflects more on politics, power, and religion (or cultism) than anything else
Now, allow me to consider some other characters (mostly women, but also men), and why the idea of this three men-of-power situation isn’t what our ‘Scholars’ make it seem.
The great Molly Weasley is the most significant matriarch of the entire series (granted, Mrs Potter sacrificed her life for our protagonist) – not only is she in charge of the (enormous) family, but she is feared (but in a good way), and clearly must have some power; in fact, when she kills Bellatrix, we see just how powerful she can be when provoked, and there is nothing weak about that.
Speaking of Bellatrix, we have another great example of the powerful woman, and the absence of sexism in the ‘Harry Potter’ series. Granted, she may be a follower with a touch of the fearful and pathetic, but let’s not forget that she is also magically powerful. More significantly, she essentially props up Voldemort as his right-hand; even Lucius Malfoy, with all his arrogance, is weaker than she. She also willfully kills (being, essentially, the Voldemort in Neville Longbottom’s story) as a second’s thought; of course, all this really shows is evil and a disregard for life, but the same is seen in her leader and in him it is viewed as power, so why not her?
Moving on, another two female characters for now: Minerva McGonogall and the pink ice queen that is Dolores Umbridge. For the former, she props up her leader much like Bellatrix – she is a confidante and a peer; what are men, without women? She and Albus Dumbledore are equals, and she is his natural successor at the end of the series. Now, Umbridge is simply terrifying, and that largely covers it; if the series were sexist, she would never be as such, because the writing would never allow it. How can you oppress women if you ‘allow’ them to have voices, power, and presence? Yes, you’ve guessed the answer already: you can’t. And, in case anyone has forgotten, you shouldn’t.
For a moment, we should approach this from another angle; that is, not from ‘what about the women disproves sexism towards them?’ – rather ‘what about the men does the same?’
- Rubeus Hagrid is lovable, but magically weak; if the matter in question is the power held by the three men we are considering, then Hagrid is the perfect example of emasculation; his magic alone is in ironic juxtaposition to his size and strength
- The weak, unlikeable, or cowardly – Aberforth Dumbledore, Snape, even Ron Weasley – have to go through significant character development before their significance can be realised; Neville, too, lest we forget
The list could, I’m sure, go on, but I will take one final person: the brightest witch of her age. The conversation is about power and significance. For the first, then, I have already answered the charge: Hermione Granger is more intelligent than anyone else we encounter (remember, too, the days of the Time Turner), and she has greater magical power than all but a few others (Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle, both of whom – like Hermione – can cast spells without words, or wands). Not only that, but she is the balance for Ron and Harry; the organiser, the calmer, the sense, and, of course, the power. In many ways, she is more significant than Harry, and as intelligent as Albus. If anyone is proof of an absence of sexism in the ‘Harry Potter’ series, it is her.
And the last and perhaps most important thing to discuss is why it makes perfect sense for Harry, Albus and Tom to be the powerful character they are – yes, I’m not even denying that their power is existent, but it is not as two-dimensional as the ‘three boys were given big wands and strong minds – the girls can’t have that’ – and, more importantly, why it is essential that they be male. It’s the things that follow which made me question whether ‘Scholars’ really made the claims of sexism. So, I’m finishing with a flourish and my sights on the primary matters of power and gender (and what they do to connect these men); ‘I open at the close’, if you will.
The world of ‘Harry Potter’ may be be a fantasy, but it does not exist entirely outside of the spectrum of realities past and present – not politically, culturally, socially, or otherwise. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore may well be somewhere around 100 years old, so naturally he was born, educated, and employed in a time when his gender was the priority, with greater opportunities and the like. Naturally, then, he has had more chances to develop such impressive magical skill, more opportunity to reach a position of power; he is male, firstly, because it affords the reader an opportunity for a contextual realism in an otherwise fantastical world. Albus Dumbledore essentially must be male, for one more reason: Harry Potter is his generation’s James Potter – he is much like his father. While Mrs Weasley is his mother figure, Dumbledore is the father figure, and one which his character absolutely needs; indeed, he wants to idolise his father, and Albus (along with Sirius Black) provides a channel through which his love and admiration for a male figure can be directed.
Voldemort, like the only man he ever feared, has had a determination and education empowered by the times in which he grew up (he is around 70 years old at death), so it makes sense that he be male. His anger towards his father also supports the necessity that Dumbledore be male – he would not feel such anger and hatred towards a woman, because those feelings in young Tom were borne of a man. What’s more, the childishness and vitriol of his anger, his approach, and his general countenance (mostly as a child, though even up to the last moments of the series) would have none of their anti-charm if Voldemort were female; the immature and contrary nature does not suit a female character, who would be much more composed, pragmatic, and mature.
Now, to The Chosen One. He is the first-born son, and like our other leading men (who are also first-born sons), this immediately places him on a pedestal; more importantly, and like his nemesis, he is also an only child – the greater the parallels between them, the more significant their relationship, even if one of those parallels is an inherent sense of entitlement and arrogance. If we consider the notion of heroism, we have another reason that the protagonist must be male: being a hero is naturally connected to masculinity. While this might sound like sexism, it is not (strictly speaking) – it is simply archetypal. Much like Tom’s personality traits, too, Harry’s brashness and arrogance would have none of the realism in a much more level-headed female character – one like Hermione Granger. One last fleeting thought is this: the gender of the main character is, by and large, a coin flip, and with a female author in JK Rowling, we should perhaps dial down the cynicism.
So, to take a step back and look over this all, the series may well be named after the boy who lived, but it could just as easily have had some alternative monikers. Humour me:
- ‘LILY POTTER and the SACRIFICE THAT STARTED IT ALL’ – featuring the woman who did not live
- ‘MINERVA MCGONOGALL and the SCHOOL IN DANGER’ – featuring the headmaster with a reckless attitude
- ‘GINNY WEASLEY and the BOY SHE STANDS BY’ – featuring the girl who gets into troubles
- ‘LUNA LOVEGOOD and the KNOWLEDGE UNKNOWN’ – featuring the girl who is underestimated
- ‘MOLLY WEASLEY and the MOTHERLY HEART’ – featuring the family that was never expected
- ‘HERMIONE GRANGER and the BRIGHTEST MIND’ – featuring the boys who need their friend
This all, for me, is how I understand the notion of sexism in ‘Harry Potter’; really, it is how I come to understand why it is not there. ‘Scholars’ or not, we may never know.
Just remember, never wake a sleeping dragon.
Scott McGinn 