In Defense of Tropes: Is the Damsel in Distress or in Meiosis?

I thought I was done defending tropes in my last three-part blog series, but then I thought, why stop there? Nobody said it had to be three. Seems like I left quite a bit on the table and as I’m struggling to get Part 3 of the Bloodstone Dagger done, I figured why not delve into more trope territory to get my head back in gear? As they say, ‘Content is King’ (do they say that? I don’t know, whatever.) Here we go.

I’m a big fan of love triangles, bad boys, and chosen ones. That’s why I featured those tropes first because it brought me so much smug satisfaction to defend them for all you fine readers. The trope I’ll attempt to defend now, however—not going to lie, isn’t my fave. But it’s so ubiquitous across all types of media that it’s nearly unnoticeable and yet, it’s becoming increasingly rare in our modern era. The age-old Damsel in Distress.

Disclaimer: It has been said that the Damsel in Distress (DID) trope is problematic as it glorifies violence against women or the objectification of women. As I’ve stated in previous blogs, it is bad to do these things to anybody, but it’s not bad to explore these topics in your works of fiction. Violence in real life is violence. Violence in fiction is simply talking about it. That’s my opinion, some may disagree. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that nobody has set out to abduct someone after reading The Princess Bride.

With that out of the way…

What’s All This Then?

The DID trope is ancient—as in the beginning-of-the-written-word ancient. It’s one of the most basic tales ever told right there with love stories and revenge plots. You can find DIDs in folklore from all over the world and across every time period. From Greek Mythology, Medieval Legends, Norse Sagas, and Indian Epics, to more modern detective stories and superhero comics. There is just something about a helpless female and dashing young hero coming to her rescue that puts the writer’s pen to paper again and again. It’s like a poltergeist that keeps leaving the door open that we swear we closed or that pesky algorithm showing us that advert that you can’t be bothered to click on and yet it keeps appearing until you finally say, “Damn it, okay Instagram, fine!”  It’s like there is something in our collective unconscious trying to tell us something important, but we choose to keep mindlessly consuming it, lambasting it, or ignoring it altogether. Either way, we don’t give it much thought.

Today’s entertainment media has made painstaking efforts to get rid of this tired trope. The DID is now a worn-out old hag. Nobody is coming to rescue her. Sorry, bitch, you’re on your own. Who needs a strong warrior man with glistening muscles to show off his prowess, huh? You’re a strong female lead who can do anything she sets her mind to. You got this, girl.

I understand why this trope is under attack as of late. The reason I was hesitant to defend this one is that I personally don’t care for the DID for likely the same reason most women don’t and that is because it’s boring. As much as I love the muscly man making his way through the haunted forest to slay the dragon, it’s hard to relate to his counterpart all held up in some castle somewhere doing literally F all, apart from making snappy remarks and failed escape attempts that make you scream, “You idiot, don’t go upstairs, the exit is not upstairs! Gaaad.”

But then… I did the unthinkable. Without even realizing it, I totally put a DID in my latest fantasy book, The Queen of the Skour. The entire thing literally revolves around an abducted princess and a bunch of dudes coming to save her. A trope that I have no love for somehow found its way into my own story, and I didn’t even blink an eye. But how could I do this? To womenkind? To fantasy fiction?

Then I got to thinking

Perhaps there is something defendable about the DID after all.

Who’s it All For?

The most important step in figuring out why a trope exists is to determine who gets off on it. Or rather, who sits on the demand side of supply. We find both men and women consume DID stories, but depending on the target market, the trope manifests itself differently.

Men seem to be the main target for DID plots. The most common areas she appears in male-oriented entertainment is in video games, which for a long time, have been mainly aimed at men and boys. This is where you get games like Mario Brothers and Legend of Zelda, which feature quite literally, a princess waiting to be saved at the end of the game. She has no agency, no real role apart from serving as the prize the player wins at the end. Of course, game plots have evolved since the 80s (Mario and Zelda included), with games like the Last of Us or The Witcher. These games feature a young daughter type character that needs saving, rather than a marriable woman, but still serves the damsel role nonetheless. Other forms of media consistently feature helpless women in danger, like the dames in noir pulps, ditzy broads in Mel Brooks spoofs, or Lois Lane getting scooped up by Superman seconds before she becomes a puddle on the sidewalk. Only later on when this type of media was geared toward women and girls more often, have these DID stories taken a back seat. So, it might be safe to conclude that the DID is primarily an invention by male creators for male consumers.

Now, I’m not about to go on a feminist rant here; this trope has been beaten into the ground already. I’m just here to figure out why women are repeatedly getting put in danger on the page for all human history and across all cultures. Why do men consume this trope at all? We could say sexism and call it a day, but how about we simply ask some men what they think about the DID?

Well, I asked some men and it turns out it’s pretty much what we figured.

It’s about getting that poon. Eh hem.

Okay, how about we explore this a little more, shall we?

It’s obviously not just about ‘getting some’ vicariously through the hero on screen. That’s what pornography is for. It’s about the journey in ‘getting some’ that matters. In the fantasy realm that men inhabit while reading comics, watching films, or playing games, there is this deep-seated need to prove one’s worthiness. They can do this by overcoming impossible odds, passing tests of strength, or mental prowess. Men do this every day without even thinking about it. It’s that urge to not let the car pass them in the right lane, to tell that one dirty joke, or turn any tube-shaped household item into a gun or light saber. It’s the desire to be first and never last. In fact, the very act of achieving a goal creates a surge of testosterone in men, sometimes referred to as the ‘victory effect’.

The woman at the end is not a mere prize, otherwise she could easily be replaced by a loot crate or a puppy. It has to be a woman because only a woman can truly judge the man’s worthiness. She stands as proof of his prowess, even if she doesn’t ‘get’ with him in the end. Many DID stories don’t end that way. The DID can end up with someone else or not even be the object of his affection in the first place.

His heroic feats will still be known across the land…

so that some other fair maiden can hear about them and BAM, poon is back on the table.

It doesn’t always have to be about sex. Like the aforementioned Last of Us, these stories can serve as ways men can play out more paternal fantasies, as in, protecting their young or their community. But even in these stories, a female’s approval is the ultimate prize whether she be in the form of a potential mate, his own daughter, or some other representative of what’s important to him. It’s about achieving that goal, coming out on top, and getting that sweet, sweet, victory effect. In our animal past, the approval of a female is key in solidifying that effect.

Then what do women get out of the DID? I mean, it’s in our stories too, albeit in a different way and a little less common. The most iconic fairy tales like Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella are classic DIDs. Only instead of focusing on the prince’s journey, it’s the princess who gets to be fleshed out. We get to see her in her normal world, how kind she is, how valued she is in her community, how clever and resourceful she could be. She’s an all-around great gal. Admittedly, I enjoy these Disney films the least, but they are classics for a reason, beloved by women and girls everywhere. There must be something appealing about a woman waiting for that perfect man to come along and sweep her off her feet. As a reader of romance novels, I can attest that nearly every single one entails the heroine getting kidnapped or endangered in some way until her sexy duke/werewolf/vampire/pirate lover comes crashing in to make heads roll. However, in these books she often contributes more in her own rescue; she’s not helpless the entire time. But there’s still something nice about a potential mate proving his capabilities just for you. She always sensed he was worthy, but it wasn’t until he came to save her that she knew for sure. He is the one; the one who can be counted on to not only protect her, but their future children and community at large. He is a man worthy of passing on his genes into the future. There’s a power in that, a power that only females have. And for some, that power is intoxicating.

Therein lies the secret to the DID’s success. To make it compelling for men, women, and everyone in between, both character archetypes need to be relatable. If the damsel is too ineffectual on the plot, your story will fall flat with female readers, but if she’s too capable, it won’t satisfy male readers’ fantasy. And that may be perfectly okay with you. I’m not here to satisfy male readers’ every whim, but if the damsel saves herself before he gets there, then that’s not really a DID story, but more of a thriller with a female protagonist. And I’m here to defend the DID trope for what it is, not what I wish it to be.

What Does it All Mean?

We’ve established that the DID is a ubiquitous and ancient trope, and we explored who responds to it and possible reasons why, but we are left with one big question. If it all boils down to carnal desires (or sometimes paternalistic desires), why express it in the form of a defenseless female tied to a railroad track as the cowboy rides to her rescue with seconds on the clock? Surely to Christ there are other stories human beings can craft to elicit the same response? And of course, there are, but it still doesn’t explain why this particular trope just won’t go way.

 Another Disclaimer: The following is based on my own knowledge and limited research within the timeframe I set out to write this post. Certain claims and facts could be out of date or flat out wrong. I am not a biologist. I am an author/accountant who dabbles in evolutionary psychology and the odd woo woo idea from time to time. This is all for fun, folks. I don’t take myself that seriously, so you shouldn’t either

To find the answer we have to go even deeper. I’m talking really deep. Deeper than the ego, superego, and the Id—or anything Freud could dream up in his coke-addled brain of his. We must delve back further than recorded history, further than the stone age, even further than when our Mesozoic mammalian ancestors walked the earth. We must dive down so far into our evolutionary past that we land smack dab into the primordial soup that birthed every living creature. Right where it all began, a billion years ago.

Why are we here, you ask? When it comes to interactions between the sexes, I’ve always believed that we are simply biological machines acting out the primordial dance of our gametes. At the heart of sexual reproduction is the most rudimentary DID story told over and over again.

Think about it: There’s the ovum, the damsel, locked away inside an impenetrable prison, hopelessly lost in a dark forest that is the uterus. She’s non-motile—virtually no agency. She was safe and happy before, living among her sisters in the ovaries, growing and developing together. Then one day, turmoil. A surge of hormones breaks part the follicle—her safe haven. Contractions force her into the fallopian wilds. She’s alone, lost, and scared. All she can do is send out signals in the form of chemotaxis in the off chance something’s out there to hear her cries. If something doesn’t reach her in 24 hours, she’ll disintegrate, her remnants flushed away in a river of blood.

Nature is brutal, I know, but there is hope for our poor egg. In comes the sperm. The white knight (I’m sorry, we’ll make it through this, I promise). He’s plucky and spry; he’s got the right tools for the job and is raring to go. He’s trained all his life in the testes for this chance to prove himself, to set himself apart from his billions of brothers. Most live and die at home, never getting to experience true glory. Today however, the stars have aligned, the mating ritual is underway; it’s do or die time.

Ser Spermatozoa is catapulted head first into a foreign and hostile land. The army accompanying him serves as some protection as they navigate through the darkness…

…but he must remember that although they are brothers at home,

they’re rivals in here.

More than half of them meet their end at the treacherous mucous membrane, but somehow his trusty flagellum sees him through with only a few scrapes. But this is just the beginning. Now, he and the rest of those strong enough to break the barrier must traverse a vast, unforgiving wilderness. Ravenous beasts lurk in the shadows—the dreaded immune system. Leukocytes and macrophages view the sperm as nothing more than an invader, not the saviors they believe themselves to be.

After what feels like an eternity, our hero reaches a fork. One way leads to his glory, the other, certain death (in most cases). Wait! What is that? The path to his left illuminates before him and there comes a call from the deep. Some of the others go the wrong way; they aren’t the brightest swimmers in the nut. But our guy knows the way, as do many others. It’s a race against time to reach the ovum. Time goes on and the sperm must rest in the cilial woods to avoid the ever-present leukocytes. The others begin to die off all around him, some from the beasts hunting them, but most from starvation. Their fructose rations are getting low. The cries from the ovum are getting louder. She’s close. That gives him the strength to keep going.

Then he sees it, a looming fortress floating on the wind, with the screaming ovum trapped inside. He reaches the walls; she calls out to him. ‘Help me, help me!’

‘Do not fear, I’m here to save you!’ Luckily, he came equipped with the only weapon that can break through the seemingly impenetrable force field. Like the dragon that guards the locked room in the castle, brave Ser Spermatozoa uses his magical enzymes to knock down the walls that imprison the fair ovum.

He has proven himself worthy.

From that moment onward, no others can enter.

Ovum and sperm come together at last, utilizing both of their abilities to help guide themselves safely to the uterine wall where they live happily ever after in meiosis.

You can call this story sexist, one sided, or unfair, but it just may be the most important story ever told because it’s the reason each and every one of us is alive to tell stories in the first place. And there are so many more stories we can tell.

So, if you find yourself accidentally putting a DID in your story, don’t feel bad. We are narrative driven animals and we share in one giant narrative with all life on this planet. It’s a beautiful gift we were given and we owe it to the universe to keep telling its stories. Even the ones that seem tired and outdated. It just means there’s still more to explore.

The DID will continue on for all time, for better or worse, to remind us where we came from and who we can become.

Want to find out how my own DID fared?

In Part 2 of The Bloodstone Dagger - Queen of the Skour, I delve into the origins of humanity…

…which pairs unexpectedly well with the aforementioned sperm and egg analogy. Pretty spooky. Click here

 Also, keep on the lookout for Part 3 when it comes out, where I attempt the DID in reverse: The Dude in Distress or Mansel in Distress (MID).

I don’t have another trope in mind, so feel free to provide suggestions in the comments. If you can name it, I’ll defend it.