I Never Wanted to be a Princess

By: Sara Boivin, art historian

I never wanted to a be a princess. I didn’t host imaginary tea parties. I didn’t bottle-feed baby dolls. I didn’t own a Barbie (not one). I never liked pink, never asked for a crown or tiara. I was forced to wear bows and ribbons in my braids. In fact, I was forced to wear braids. You know the kind…hair parted in the middle, mind-numbingly secured at the scalp, and again at the tail with bands bearing large plastic balls that could take out a tooth if you whipped them around too fast? Yeah, that kind. But my long thick, dark brown braids served me one incredible purpose…to have my mother twist them and pin them into “Leia buns.” This was a common request after my first exposure to the Star Wars series, which admittedly was the Empire Strikes Back, released in 1980, as I was only three when Star Wars IV arrived in theaters. I saw it at the end of June in the old movie house in Lake Placid, NY and all the way back to our camp, I shot my imaginary blasters through the back windshield at various Imperial Starfighters, closely resembling old Ford trucks and wood-paneled station wagons.

Sporting the Princess Leia braids at age 10 and Leia in Empire Strike Back, Planet Hoth.

Even at six years old, I knew the Star Wars experience was bigger-than-life because I felt enveloped and invested in that world. I was hooked. Lucas got me young. And so, I fell in love for the first time that day; with the act of movie-going, embracing two hours of escape, the seemingly endless creativity alien life-forms provided which satisfied my wild imagination, and with Leia. At the time, I was too young to know Princess Leia was a role model. That is only a revelation that comes with maturity, but for the first time in my young life I was more interested with what was on screen than which candy I had access to. Leia first appears in A New Hope via hologram, clad in white, projected by a droid while unveiling a mystery with an urgency I didn’t quite comprehend. However, Leia made me believe her message was very, very important and that her role mattered. So Leia, in essence, goes on to carry the entire saga even when she wasn’t on screen. But when she was present the character was complicated; often soft and caring, coupled with a sharp wit and sharper tongue. She could shoot a pistol, sling personal insults at ruthless dictators, and continue to fight for her personal beliefs and the shared principles of many being attacked by a few.

“Like I said, I never wanted to be a princess at a tea party, but a princess who fights in a rebellion and becomes a general shaping the future of the cosmos?
Right on.”

Now, the fact that Stars Wars IV, V, VI were considered unacclaimed movies with less than stellar acting and character development is not lost on me today but at six, who cares? I reveled in watching a young woman fight alongside men, garner respect amongst her counterparts as she built a galactic alliance to fight evil. She inspired people around her to stand up for what was right and good, and risk everything to shape a better future throughout the universe. And she wore cool-ass braids while doing it!

And as the Lucas, turned Disney formula continues, the franchise is still empowering women and girls to save the universe as seen in The Force Awakens to Rogue One. Rogue One had me on the edge of my seat as I watched yet another Star Wars heroine emerge, although quickly fade from the storyline only to find out actress Carrie Fischer had died while I was in the theatre. My two hours of escape were over and reality slapped me, and all Star Wars lovers in the face. Ms. Fischer’s death is a sad loss for the movie studio, a sad loss for her cadre of fans, and an even sadder loss for her surviving real family. Ms. Fischer had done the seemingly impossible for women in Hollywood by returning after almost 40 years to reprise that same role…well, sort of. Leia’s character, although brief on screen-time in The Force Awakens came back better, more mature, tougher, and even more beautiful in her confidence. What a pleasure it has been to watch Leia grow from a young princess with a purpose, to a general in the Resistance. Frankly I was looking forward to seeing how Ms. Fischer would bring General Organa’s leadership to life and be inspired by a seasoned role model fighting the good fight all over again. Because like I said, I never wanted to be a princess at a tea party, but a princess who fights in a rebellion and becomes a general shaping the future of the cosmos? Right on.

So tonight, if my hair was long enough, I’d whip up some Leia-style braids and wear them around proudly (in the privacy of my own home). But alas, my hair is too short. So instead, I’ll go outside into the frosty air, look up into the clear night sky, spy the brightest star I can find, and name it “Leia Organa” and wish both the character and the actress who brought her to life, a deep and peaceful sleep in a galaxy, far, far away.

Sara Boivin lives in Saratoga Springs, NY and is the curator of the Yates Gallery at Siena College, where she is currently collaborating and leading the efforts to repatriate ancient artifacts to their country of origin. Committed to the arts, Sara is also a painter working to complete a new body of work for exhibition. In addition, she cares deeply about politics and the future of her community and has been involved in local grass roots movements to effect change where she lives.

From Pain and Despondancy, a Call to Action

By: Grace A. Pan, a senior at Yale University

For me, November 8th, 2016 may well be a day that will live in infamy. Like many others, I woke up that morning with a tangible sense of empowerment, heading to the polls with my girlfriends as we cast our votes in our first ever presidential election for the first ever woman President of the United States. And like many others, I stayed up late that night, sobbing with my friends as we realized our votes were not going to elect the first ever woman POTUS.

The deeper pangs hit the next day when I watched Hillary Clinton’s poignant speech in which she implored us all to “never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it.” Here was one of the world’s most dedicated, skilled, and passionate women experiencing perhaps the most devastating, high-stakes loss of a lifetime. Yet even in loss, she was able to, with poise and grace, call on her fellow women and Americans to keep fighting. With her resilience, she has renewed a sense of civic duty that many in my generation seem to have given up on.

It is no secret that millennials have the lowest voter turnout of any age group. Having grown up long after the suffragettes’ movements or the Civil Rights Movement, it is easy to believe that inequality only exists in the deadened pages of the past. It is easy to believe that as a society, America has progressed far past historical injustices. It is easy to fall complacent.

But in the same way that President Obama’s win hasn’t diffused racial tensions, Secretary Clinton’s potential win wouldn’t have done away with all the barriers we face as women. We live in a nation where less than 20% of the sitting U.S. Congress is female, where Sam Bee is the only woman on late-night, where I am often the only girl in my physics classes. Secretary Clinton’s painful loss holds this structural sexism up to scrutiny, making clear that our nation isn’t a peachy post-historical one, and inspiring in us a greater need to passionately fight and serve just as she has.

On November 12th, I walked with 20,000 other people from Union Square to Trump Tower. Young women and men brought posters and friends; elderly couples came with their adult children; mothers and fathers held up their daughters on their shoulders. These parents, in bringing their young girls, wanted them to see that unity and equality are the still the values that need fighting for. They showed them to not be afraid to stand up for what is right and to make sure their voices are heard.

For many of us, it was also the first time exercising our First Amendment rights to peaceably assemble. We were an eclectic group, but it was incredibly uplifting to see people willing to speak out for the rights of those different from them. (My personal favorite was the back-and-forth between women and men: “My body, my choice!” followed by “Her body, her choice!”) While some may be critical of those only now coming to the defense of others, sometimes it takes a loss for people to recognize each others’ similarities. Surely we all had differences in our political or personal beliefs, but I ultimately felt safe and supported in this community of strangers, most of whom looked nothing like me or even each other. I was truly moved by how empathetic everyone was, coming out of the protest with a rekindled optimism and powerful sense of individual responsibility and impact.

Nationally, the week following the election saw a massive surge in donations to non-profit organizations; for example, Planned Parenthood garnered more than 200,000 new donations, 40 times more than in a typical week. Many of my friends and I set up recurring donations to various non-profits and used social media to encourage others to do the same. These donations give me the hope that collectively we can make a large impact, starting with belief that each individual can make a difference.

And on Inauguration Day weekend, more than 100,000 women and allies will unite to March on Washington to stand for environmental rights, women’s rights, LGBT rights, immigrant rights — human rights.

I hope that these displays of civic duty and feelings of empowerment don’t just ride the coattails of this election but continue to manifest in every one of us as we continue our work as parents or professionals or activists or children. I hope that we do not become complacent, that we do not just read think-pieces without taking action, or abstain from political participation altogether. Hillary’s loss has been painful for many of us, as it represents a cracked glass ceiling that didn’t break, or the sense of a promise rejected. But this “what could have been” is not so far in the future if we believe in our ability as individuals to make change, to be the role models our daughters need.

Irrespective of our political leanings, we can all consider Hillary’s challenge to us that she delivers through the frame of scripture: “My friends, let us have faith in each other, let us not grow weary and lose heart, for there are more seasons to come and there is more work to do.” I am optimistic that out of the confusion and despondency of this loss will rise a greater yearning for equality, a renewed sense of duty, and action.

Grace Pan is a budding physicist who aspires to use her amateur roles as photographer, comedian, and writer to help promote gender equity. She co-organized the American Physical Society's 2015 Conference for Undergrad Women in Physics and is the photographer for all women in physics events at Yale. She's ecstatic to help bring visibility to women in male-dominated domains, be it physics or politics.

Art as a Symbol of Power

By: Jimena Arnal, PiP Guest Blogger

Women are complicated, or so they say, the thing is that we can manage many more things in our brain than men. This drawing has pieces of the women who founded it, those they esteem, as well as, those they admire for what they will become. It is a symbol of power, that we can do anything if we put our minds to it, and if we get together, no one can truly beat us. 

I was still struggling through my own hardships when asked to do this piece and it ended up being one of the steps needed for me to take to feel better, get back to myself and help many during the process. 

Jimena Arnal is a Marketing Communications Masters candidate from Emerson College. She is the founder of TeachersLibrary in Boston, which aims to be a new Tech Nonprofit that solves the shortage of fluent English teachers in secondary schools in Latin America by providing them resources and mentors. Prior to TeachersLibrary, Jimena founded UnMundo which she’s since turned into an online community for people to find the empowerment necessary to pull themselves out of desperation and exhaustion, by doing three simple good deeds at a time. She has a B.S. in Administrative Sciences from Universidad Metropolitana, in Caracas, Venezuela.