Dear Wonder Woman Director Patty Jenkins,
You don’t know me, and you will probably never know me. But you’ve made this middle aged mama very happy.
Why? I was born in 1970. I was a little girl when Lynda Carter brought Wonder Woman to life on my tv screen and I loved it. I grew up on a street where all the other kids my age were boys. Every time we played “war” I was the nurse. The nurse? Even though I held my own in fist fights with the other boys and jumped my bike off that rickety homemade ramp just like they did, I was still relegated to roles like “nurse” when we played.
Wonder Woman was my hero. She could disarm men with her beauty and then kick the crap out of them. She was the only female superhero who wasn’t some other male hero’s afterthought protege. Batgirl, Supergirl… Wonder Woman was a woman, not a girl, and she was an original. Wonder Woman was all that the little girls in the 70’s had, until Princess Leia came along. I watched every single Super Friends cartoon and loved that she was in on the saving instead of always the one being saved.
Let’s just go ahead and deal with the Bionic Woman for a minute. I watched that show. But a woman filled with spare parts to do the bidding of the U.S. government just didn’t do it for me. And, again, she was a spin-off of the Six Million Dollar Man. Electra Woman and Dyna Girl – anyone remember them? They were pretty cool, but… they weren’t Wonder Woman.
When Batman vs. Superman was being pimped out, I was pretty damn excited to see that Wonder Woman got some time. Until. Everyone who EVER saw it raved – about how bad it was. Nooooooo. I have avoided watching it to this day, because I didn’t want to see Wonder Woman in a bad movie.
Fast forward to the advance press for Wonder Woman. Please, please, please, please was the whispered prayer of every strong woman, but especially of the 70’s girls. Cautiously optimistic, we watched the trailers. When the first advance reviews came out and were glowing, we may have squealed a little.
I sat next to two of my boys in the theater; the oldest had seen it a couple of days earlier with some female friends and came home raving about how good it was. “Mom, YOU definitely need to see this.” My youngest turned nine and wanted to see Wonder Woman on his birthday. Who am I to fight good parenting?
You need to know that I’m not a crier. Like, ever. If I do cry, it’s probably because I’m incredibly angry about something. There was one point during Wonder Woman, though, that it almost happened. Without spoilers, I’ll say it was the very first war battle scene involving Diana. When that bad ass business was completed, I found myself tearing up a little. THIS was Wonder Woman. This was MY Wonder Woman. And I am sitting here next to two of my three sons who are just as impressed as I am. When the house lights came up, I needed a minute.
Patty Jenkins, thank you. You didn’t go out of your way to make Wonder Woman a feminist statement. You didn’t dumb her down or sex her up, either. You didn’t have any other agenda except to bring all that is good about our super hero to life. I just sneaked a peek at your bio. You are only a year younger than me. That explains a lot. #SolidaritySister
Thank you for turning Gal Gadot into the Wonder Woman I always hoped I would see on the big screen. Thank you for making this Wonder Woman everything I hoped she would be.