At the beginning of the series, Sansa is a 13-year-old girl who enjoys embroidery and daydreams about marrying a prince. She aspires to be a proper royal lady, upholding tradition, which causes tension with her tomboyish younger sister, Arya. Initially, many viewers (including me) were put off by Sansa’s snobby demeanor, materialistic nature and naïve obsession with living a fairytale life. However, through the course of the show, Sansa endures a series of traumatic experiences which transform her from a callow child to an intelligent and resilient woman.
First, Sansa leaves her home and is betrothed to a destructive young prince, who soon orders her father killed (and makes her watch). Living with his family, she must conceal her grief and act agreeable, or risk her own life and the lives of the rest of her family. During her time living essentially as a prisoner, Sansa learns from others how to survive in such an environment. She meets other women who advise her to use her sexuality and charm to persuade men to do what she wants. In femininity, they find strength.
She later escapes this place with a quasi-family friend, Petyr Baelish, who is known throughout the kingdom for his manipulative and conniving ways. Nevertheless, she initially trusts that he has her best interests in mind. They take refuge with Sansa’s aunt, whom Baelish convinces to marry him so that he can gain control of her stronghold. Sansa then watches as he murders her aunt and frames another person, discovering that this is a trick he has pulled before.
Still, Sansa does not foresee Baelish’s next betrayal. He hands her off to be married to a sadistic man who has taken over Sansa’s home, and leaves. Her new husband brutally rapes her, beats her, and threatens her with violence. Eventually, she manages to stage another elaborate escape and sets off to find her brother.
Having endured years of physical, sexual and emotional abuse, Sansa displays extraordinary strength and grace. When she reunites with her brother, she immediately takes the lead on reclaiming their home, negotiating alliances and working toward unifying her family. She is no longer trapped in her prior passive role of being tossed from man to man.
The seventh season satisfyingly highlights the progress she has made. Aforementioned Baelish is back, and spends the season sowing seeds of discord between the Stark sisters. His interactions with Sansa echo those of prior seasons, particularly during the time when he “rescued” her from one dangerous situation only to throw her into another. Feigning concern for her safety, he tries to convince her that her sister is scheming against her.
In the final episode, it is revealed that Sansa had been pretending to believe him the entire time. She puts Baelish on trial for treason and sentences him to death. Before ordering his execution, she utters her iconic line, “I’m a slow learner, it’s true. But I learn.” Though he had dismissed her as gullible, Sansa was able to outwit a man not only famous for his insidious cleverness, but who had previously taken advantage of her. Her measured temperament, thoughtfulness and careful calculation brought her justice.
Despite this radical growth, many have not come around to the Sansa train. Perhaps it is true that “no character can ignite a fandom’s ugliest instincts more than a flawed teen girl doing her best.” I’ve had conversations about this with women who identify as feminists, and who continue to hate her character. They cite her prissy attitude at the beginning of the series and the fact that she is not aggressive enough in war (never mind her diplomacy).
Last week, a friend said that she would never like Sansa because she made a certain military maneuver once. In this case, Sansa’s brother, Jon, had refused to take her advice, so she negotiated an alliance on her own and saved their army from certain defeat. This strategy was a success, but my friend insisted that Sansa put her brothers at risk by not sending the allies in even sooner. This argument seems to imply that Sansa should have just worried about taking care of her family rather than thinking about the bigger picture, relegating her to the private sphere and a caretaking role.
Men in the series have made much riskier military endeavors resulting in tragedy. For example, in that very battle, Jon is provoked into charging too soon after the rival leader kills his brother (without Sansa’s secret plan they would have lost). His emotions overcome him and he falls into an obvious trap, yet I have never heard anyone suggest that he should have had more concern for his family or is too emotional to be a leader. Dismissed for her “feminine” qualities and criticized as heartless when she is strategic, Sansa is tied up in double standards.
Unlike other, more popular female characters (e.g., Arya and Daenerys), Sansa did not have the luxury of impulsively using violence to get her way. She could not rebel overtly against the people who held her captive, lest she be killed. So, like many women in the real world, she relied on her wit and negotiation skills to stay alive and attain her goals in a patriarchal society.
Women are often put in positions where lashing out is not a permissible response, and we cope with our emotions in other ways. This approach should not be devalued just because aggression and anger are the more accepted (masculine) way of accomplishing something. Stoicism should not be mistaken for weakness, nor rage for strength.
First, Sansa leaves her home and is betrothed to a destructive young prince, who soon orders her father killed (and makes her watch). Living with his family, she must conceal her grief and act agreeable, or risk her own life and the lives of the rest of her family. During her time living essentially as a prisoner, Sansa learns from others how to survive in such an environment. She meets other women who advise her to use her sexuality and charm to persuade men to do what she wants. In femininity, they find strength.
She later escapes this place with a quasi-family friend, Petyr Baelish, who is known throughout the kingdom for his manipulative and conniving ways. Nevertheless, she initially trusts that he has her best interests in mind. They take refuge with Sansa’s aunt, whom Baelish convinces to marry him so that he can gain control of her stronghold. Sansa then watches as he murders her aunt and frames another person, discovering that this is a trick he has pulled before.
Still, Sansa does not foresee Baelish’s next betrayal. He hands her off to be married to a sadistic man who has taken over Sansa’s home, and leaves. Her new husband brutally rapes her, beats her, and threatens her with violence. Eventually, she manages to stage another elaborate escape and sets off to find her brother.
Having endured years of physical, sexual and emotional abuse, Sansa displays extraordinary strength and grace. When she reunites with her brother, she immediately takes the lead on reclaiming their home, negotiating alliances and working toward unifying her family. She is no longer trapped in her prior passive role of being tossed from man to man.
The seventh season satisfyingly highlights the progress she has made. Aforementioned Baelish is back, and spends the season sowing seeds of discord between the Stark sisters. His interactions with Sansa echo those of prior seasons, particularly during the time when he “rescued” her from one dangerous situation only to throw her into another. Feigning concern for her safety, he tries to convince her that her sister is scheming against her.
In the final episode, it is revealed that Sansa had been pretending to believe him the entire time. She puts Baelish on trial for treason and sentences him to death. Before ordering his execution, she utters her iconic line, “I’m a slow learner, it’s true. But I learn.” Though he had dismissed her as gullible, Sansa was able to outwit a man not only famous for his insidious cleverness, but who had previously taken advantage of her. Her measured temperament, thoughtfulness and careful calculation brought her justice.
Despite this radical growth, many have not come around to the Sansa train. Perhaps it is true that “no character can ignite a fandom’s ugliest instincts more than a flawed teen girl doing her best.” I’ve had conversations about this with women who identify as feminists, and who continue to hate her character. They cite her prissy attitude at the beginning of the series and the fact that she is not aggressive enough in war (never mind her diplomacy).
Last week, a friend said that she would never like Sansa because she made a certain military maneuver once. In this case, Sansa’s brother, Jon, had refused to take her advice, so she negotiated an alliance on her own and saved their army from certain defeat. This strategy was a success, but my friend insisted that Sansa put her brothers at risk by not sending the allies in even sooner. This argument seems to imply that Sansa should have just worried about taking care of her family rather than thinking about the bigger picture, relegating her to the private sphere and a caretaking role.
Men in the series have made much riskier military endeavors resulting in tragedy. For example, in that very battle, Jon is provoked into charging too soon after the rival leader kills his brother (without Sansa’s secret plan they would have lost). His emotions overcome him and he falls into an obvious trap, yet I have never heard anyone suggest that he should have had more concern for his family or is too emotional to be a leader. Dismissed for her “feminine” qualities and criticized as heartless when she is strategic, Sansa is tied up in double standards.
Unlike other, more popular female characters (e.g., Arya and Daenerys), Sansa did not have the luxury of impulsively using violence to get her way. She could not rebel overtly against the people who held her captive, lest she be killed. So, like many women in the real world, she relied on her wit and negotiation skills to stay alive and attain her goals in a patriarchal society.
Women are often put in positions where lashing out is not a permissible response, and we cope with our emotions in other ways. This approach should not be devalued just because aggression and anger are the more accepted (masculine) way of accomplishing something. Stoicism should not be mistaken for weakness, nor rage for strength.
1 comment:
I totally agree with everything you are saying. Sansa really gets overlooked by a lot of people because of how she acted in the first season, but she really has grown. And while she may be a "slow learner," she has learned from the best: Ned Stark, Cersei, Tyrion, Petyr Baelish, Jon Snow, Ramsay Bolton, and Lady Olena. No one on the show has had this varied an education in either leadership styles, how to recruit and become allies, nor on how to determine who to trust. Sansa is in a real position of power, and has almost become de facto Warden of the North. While Jon has the title King of the North, she is the one who has been making alliances and taking care of the kingdom and its day-to-day operations. I honestly would not be surprised if she ended up on the iron throne at this point.
Anyway, great post! I am glad someone else realizes that Sansa has the potential to be a feminist icon as well.
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