The thing about writing a story that addresses latent sexism is that I am forced to confront the the sexism of those around in all it’s forms. I am complaining about my writer’s group at the moment, but I have heard similar things from people outside of that group. I have created this beautiful, strong, dominant, sexual woman, and no one can stand it. They say, “Oh she is so smart, so funny, so interesting. Shouldn’t she be arrested? Shouldn’t she lose everything that is important to her? Shouldn’t she be made to repent by the cruelest means you can conjure? Shouldn’t she die?” In other words, you can’t let her live, you must destroy her. They say, “She is not really a casanova. A female casanova would be needy, desperate for approval. A female casanova would be manipulative and hard. A female casanova would be crude and disgusting.” In other words, a female casanova would be, must be, cannot be other than the most depraved kind of human being. I knew that this idea would challenge readers, and make them think. I did not know that it would disturb them so, and that their disturbance would become my own in response.
And yes, I’m probably overreacting. It might have something to do with the fact that my ankle has swollen to the size of a large apricot.
No, people really do respond that way.