It’s About What You Believe: A Letter to Diana of Themyscira (aka Wonder Woman)

This is the latest in my series of letters to inspirational female characters that will be compiled in a book alongside letters from my fellow fangirls and fanboys. If you are interested in being part of The Fan Mail Project, I’m still taking submissions on a case-by-case basis, and you can check out all the information here

WW poster


Dear Diana,

I never thought I’d write a letter to you. Growing up, I didn’t read many comic books, so when I was getting ready to see Wonder Woman, I had only the slightest idea of what to expect. I thought you would kick ass and that your story would be empowering—not just for me, but for so many young girls who get to grow up now with your story as a part of their superhero movie pantheon—but I didn’t expect to see much of a reflection of myself in you.

You see, I’m not exactly built in the typical “strong female character” way. But then I discovered something amazing during my first viewing of Wonder Woman: neither are you. I sat down in that darkened movie theater and expected to see a woman whose strength would inspire me to want to be more like her, but what I ended up seeing was a woman whose strength has inspired me to want to be more fully myself.

“Strong” and “tough” are often synonyms, and, for most of my life, it’s been hard for me to see myself as strong because I’m about as far from tough as it gets. When it comes to how women are perceived—both in life and in the media—it’s typically the tough ones who become leaders, who earn people’s respect, and who get things done. No matter how often we tell women that vulnerability and openness can be a strength and not a weakness, it’s hard to believe when most female heroes in the media only smile when it’s a huge moment of character development and when most people in life are told more than once to “toughen up and stop being such a girl” when they openly display emotion.

For years now, one of the first phrases that comes to my mind when I’m asked to describe myself is “painfully sincere.” I think I was born without the ability to mask my true feelings about anything, and for decades, I’ve seen that as one of my greatest weaknesses. People have preyed on that part of me since I was a kid.

“They’re just saying that because they can tell they’re getting to you.”

“You’re an easy target. It’s fun to get you riled up.”

“Don’t let them know it bothers you, and they’ll stop.”

“You can’t hide that you’re mad at me. I can see it all over your face.”

“Katherine, your brow is furrowed. You must be confused by the assignment.”

“Calm down!”

“Why do you care so much?”

I spent so long hating that part of me—my emotional transparency, my painful (in more ways than one) sincerity. And then I saw you, and I saw how we were allowed to truly see you. I saw your indignation, your sadness, your childlike sense of wonder, your hope, your frustration, your joy, your desire, your confusion, and your conviction. You felt no shame in your emotions—whatever they were. You showed what you were feeling as you felt it, without ever feeling a need to hide your emotions or push them down to appear stronger or more in control.

And you displayed a range of emotions unlike any female character I’d ever seen in this kind of role before. In many cases, when we talk about “strong female characters” being open and vulnerable, it shows itself only in crying when something terrible happens and in letting themselves fall in love. You did both of those things, but you also sighed with awe when you saw a baby for the first time, delighted in the taste of ice cream, whined about restrictive clothing, felt sickened when you saw animals and people being hurt, and giggled at the feeling of a first snowfall. You laughed and cried and yelled and smiled, and you were never weakened or preyed upon because you were an open book.

Instead, your emotional transparency did something amazing: It inspired the people around you. Steve, Sameer, Charlie, and Chief didn’t take advantage of your sincerity or treat you like were some kind of naïve child to be protected or pitied because you weren’t hardened by the world. Instead, they opened up and softened under the careful glow of your warmth—they followed you into battle not just because you could block bullets and lift tanks, but because they wanted to be around someone like you, someone who believes in people with a clarity and a purity that makes them want to believe, too.

But just because you believe in people doesn’t mean they’ll always live up to that belief, and in your discovery of that harsh truth, I saw a reflection of how difficult it is to be someone who cares openly, believes fully, and is met time and time again with the reality that wearing your heart on your sleeve makes it very easy for it to be broken. This has been a hard time to be a believer—to be someone who can’t seem to stop hoping that there’s good left in the world. There have been moments in the last year that have knocked me back with astounding force, making me confront the notion that things I thought were true were simply things I wanted to be true and forcing me to see that caring and believing isn’t always enough. Sometimes people are going to be motivated by anger, selfishness, and fear instead of a desire to do what’s right. And when those moments have happened, it’s made me hate even more intensely the fact that I can’t seem to turn off my ability to care and my desire to hope. It’s made me feel as if it’s better to just hide from a world that doesn’t deserve my caring.

But just as you learned, sometimes it’s not about what people deserve; it’s about what you believe. You were crushed by the truth that men are not always good, and I loved that you were allowed to have a moment of truly struggling with this crisis of faith. When I’ve had moments of despair, I’ve beaten myself up over them because I tend to think good people keep fighting even when it’s hard. But watching you own your disappointment, anger, and desire to walk away from the problems of mankind reminded me that even superheroes can have moments of complete disgust over how terrible people can be. If you can feel helpless in the face of humanity’s darkness, then it’s okay if I feel that way sometimes, too.

In the end, though, what made you a true hero was that you saw the darkness in the world and still chose to believe humanity’s capacity for goodness was worth fighting for. You came into your powers most fully not because of hatred or vengeance or anger, but because of love. You were at your strongest when fighting Ares when you let your emotions—especially your love—take over. In so many areas of our lives, we as women are still taught that to display too much emotion is to show weakness, so to see you truly become a world-saving superhero because you gave in to your emotions and let them drive your actions made a huge impact on me. It can be easy to focus on all the negative things in the world and to let those things take away my desire to show how much I care. But you taught me that the most heroic thing anyone can do is to accept the world’s darkness but still choose to believe there is goodness left in the human race and to let that belief strengthen your desire to care and fight with everything in you when it would be easy to become apathetic.

You believed in humanity’s goodness with such all-consuming certainty because you allowed yourself to experience it, and I will forever be grateful that we got to see you enjoying life and not just stoically going about your mission. You are the Superhero Who Smiled, and as someone whose default facial expression is often a smile, I appreciated that perhaps more than any other thing about you. I’m often afraid that my readiness to smile makes me less of a formidable force in the professional world and makes people take me less seriously in many aspects of my life. For women, warmth is often mistaken for weakness, but your warmth is one of your defining character traits—and that never negated your power. You smiled when your mother told you stories, when you heard Charlie sing, when you fought in battle, when the man you loved talked about making breakfast, and so many more times that it was impossible to count them all. And you still got to be not just a hero, but the hero. Smiling didn’t make you any less of a badass; being warm didn’t make you any less of a warrior. Thank you for helping me believe that I can smile and still be strong.

You’re the softest superhero I’ve ever seen, and I mean that as the highest compliment I can give. Because if you taught me anything, it’s that softness and strength can coexist beautifully in a woman’s heart and that you don’t always need to be tough to be powerful. Thank you for helping me see that my sincerity can be a strength and that I don’t need to “toughen up” to be taken seriously. I wish I’d discovered you sooner—maybe it wouldn’t have taken me 28 years to learn to love the part of me I always wished was different. But I’m just thankful I have you now to look at and learn from any time I need a reminder that wearing your heart on your sleeve (or your Bracelets of Submission) is hard, but it’s also heroic.

13 thoughts on “It’s About What You Believe: A Letter to Diana of Themyscira (aka Wonder Woman)

  1. Gorgeous, sweetie. Absolutely gorgeous.

    Ok, confession time. I haven’t seen WW yet. (I know. I KNOW. *hangs head in shame*) Don’t worry. I will. Especially after posts like this.

    YES! Strong does not always equal tough. Gentle people can be strong. Happy people can be strong. Caring people can be strong. Strength, like so many things, comes in all shapes and sizes.

    There is a type of strength required to be open and completely who you are and to feel what you feel and to share that without embarrassment. Sincerity is not easy. But I’m glad you’ve chosen to keep fighting the good (sincere) fight. You know I’ll always be Rose over here backing you up.

    Punch back. This is who I am. Be your great Katie self. Be your own kind of super-hero.

    • You’re just the absolute, best. Have I told you that lately? 😉 Forever the Rose to my Peggy.

      I can’t wait for you to see the movie (and to come back and tell me all your feelings and thoughts)!

  2. Katie, I am in tears after reading this. Absolutely fantastic! You so beautifully articulated why a hero who believes in compassion and love is so important and easy to relate to for so many. Bravo!!

  3. Katie, this is fabulous!! I am sorry it took so long for me to read it!

    “You came into your powers most fully not because of hatred or vengeance or anger, but because of love.” Yes. I love this about Wonder Woman. No “boo hoo woe is me” backstory motivating her, just a fierce desire to help others.

    I actually find her to be very similar to Superman in a lot of ways (another superhero constantly considered “boring” because of his wholesome image (we’ll ignore whatever DC decided to do with him in the movies)). I think I am one of the few people that had no problem when DC decided to make WW and Superman a couple (this coming from a person who wrote a letter to Lois Lane for your fanmail project, lol) simply because it was so obvious to see the similarities between the two. I love the inherent goodness in both of them and their desire to help.

    The thing that stuck me the most when watching this movie was how much second hand embarrassment I had. And that fact that I was mad that I had it. Because Diana had every right to demand to be listened to and respected -she was by far the most educated person in the room – yet she wasnt suppose to be there, or she wasnt supposed to do this, or that, because that is not how women were supposed to act. But I really hope that there are young girls out there watching the movie that can watch this and feel like they deserve the right to be heard without being made to feel like its wrong. I want them to have the same confidence Diana did when she walked right into the middle of everything instead of the gut wrenching fear and anxiety I felt.

    I think the movie did a great job of showing that while Diana was naive about a lot of things, she wasnt ignorant. She was well educated and confident in her skills and knowledge. Her ability to speak so many languages helped her connect with those on the battlefield and was just as an important tool as her sword and shield.

    It will be interesting to see what they do with her character in Justice League. I really hope they dont make her too jaded, and destroy what made her character so inspirational in this film.

    • Thank you so much, Shauna! ❤

      First of all, I echo your thoughts about Justice League. I'm both really excited to see more of her on a movie screen so soon and really nervous about how different she'll be. She was such a surprising inspiration to me in this movie, and I just don't want all of that to go away. (Also, I don't need that many brooding/jaded heroes in one movie, please!)

      I also think it's really interesting and super understandable that you had major secondhand embarrassment for Diana at times. I didn't feel embarrassed as much as I felt angry thinking of how little has changed. In so many instances, women who dare to speak up in a room full of men are still looked at like we're crazy or hysterical if we raise our voices even a little bit or just not taken seriously or listened to at all. It's sad to see that 2017 is not all that different from 1918 in that regard. But it's my hope that young girls will see this movie and want to be like Diana—charging ahead and saying what she knows is right despite all the voices trying to silence her. Like you said, the movie did an amazing job of showing that she is intelligent and well educated despite having little knowledge of the social norms of the world of mankind. Not only did she save the world with her superpowers, her ability to understand different languages and recognize formulas was the biggest reason they even figured out what was in Dr. Poison's notebook anyway. Without her knowledge, none of those men would have been able to do anything to stop her because they would have had no idea what she was planning.

  4. This is beautiful, Katie! You brought out so well what is amazing about Wonder Woman, and what I love the most about her. She is a ray of sunshine (as Gal also seems), and it was nice to see that celebrated in a movie that so many people loved.

    • Thanks so much, Leah! And I totally agree with you about both the character and Gal; it’s impossible for me to do anything but smile when I see her.

  5. Pingback: NGN’s Best of 2017: Reasons to Hope | Nerdy Girl Notes

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