By the honor of Greyskull, she has no power

This is my contribution to the excellent Action Heroines Blog-a-thon going on over at Film Experience.

When I was a child I watched way too much television. I used to have fits of kicking and screaming whenever they tried to tell me to go to bed when I wanted to watch The Muppet Show or Fraggle Rock. I was so unhappy with the world of divorce and mean stepdad that I needed some kind of escape, and Jim Henson was it. Red the Fraggle was always my favorite. She was a tomboy, like me.

But when I started spending all day and night in front of the magic box my parents decided that was it. No more TV. From the time I was six until I was 14 I was only allowed two shows: the news and Twin Peaks.

I know, right?

Anyway, I'm a defiant girl and a bit on the aggressive side. So when you tell me I can't do something I immediately try to find a way to do it whether I want to or not. Although I threw myself into books, I still wanted to piss my stepdad off as much as possible by watching TV as much as I could.

The only time I could do this was between the time I got my latchkey ass home from school and when my parents came home an hour or two later.

My stepdad got wise after a while. He started to feel the TV when he came in to see if it was warm. So I learned to turn it off during commercials and let it cool down. It was always a damn one-upmanship game at my house. But I digress.

My point is, the only shows that were usually on at the time of day when I could watch TV were Thundercats, He-Man and She-Ra. I adore the Thundercats. I'm not overly fond of He-Man since I could never quite shake my irritation of the way nobody seemed to notice that delicate Prince Adam was never around when his overly masculine twin was saving everybody on his large pussy with his phallic sword. He has the power indeed.

Which brings me to She-Ra, who most definitely does not have the power. Did you notice? She wears a skimpy outfit and spends way too much time on her hair and makeup and carries sort of a preppy glittery Barbie-meets-Cameron-Diaz-on-steroids vibe about her. And she's the worst action heroine ever.

Sure, she's great at making us all talk about our feelings. And she could heal and do magic spells and make her hair grow longer at will - always a plus for those days when you just want to feel princessy.

But whenever there was a real problem in the forest kingdom she had to call for help. She's supposed to be some badass tomboy with her fancy sword but if the shit really hit the fan she immediately called her manly brother to come save her with his penis power. Or she hollered at her friendly woodland creatures who all rushed in to save the day.

I was a badass tomboy. I certainly never dressed like that. For Christ's sake, look at how short her skirt is. And her nails are freshly manicured. And her chest is big enough to support a strapless top. And what is up with that stupid hat?

When I was a little girl I needed a heroine. I needed a girl who could take care of herself and fight all the forces of dark around her the way I wanted to fight against the forces of dark around me. I needed Sydney and Buffy and Xena and Aeryn and Ripley. But back then all they gave my elementary school ass was a girlie girl who thinks bunnies and glitter will save the world.

No thanks.