I read a lot of fiction and have attended many movies in my lifetime. As the story unfolds, the heroine and hero must fit my stereotypes to maintain my interest.
I think of a movie I saw several years ago, “The Heat.” It starred Sandra Bullock as a tall, slender FBI agent and Melissa McCarthy as a chubby, foul-mouthed, Boston cop. The two worked together to take down a drug lord. My mind would never have accepted the characters if their roles had been reversed.
When men are involved, the hero is usually tall, dark and handsome–never short, bald and dumpy. He has a distinctive name such as Rhett, Lance or Pierce and not Tom, Dick or harry.
It isn’t just pretend-people that must fit stereotypes but society tries to apply the same restrictions on everyone. While I was growing up, I was a tomboy, an energetic and sometimes boisterous girl who liked wearing overalls every day and whose behavior was considered more typical of fellows. I preferred batting a softball and running with the guys instead of wearing a skirt while sitting to play jacks with the gals.
When I became a bride in 1959, a married woman was expected to be a fulltime wife and mother. The husband was the breadwinner who went to work to support his family. I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied with that role after our three kids were in school. As a compromise, I had the opportunity to be a freelance journalist working from home writing articles for area newspapers and national magazines.
When I attended writers’ workshops during the summer to enhance my skills, everyone dressed casually, usually shorts and a loose-fitting shirt. It was surprising to learn the person I was sitting beside and visiting with had a day job as a pastor or a psychologist. He or she didn’t look like my mental picture of a member of that profession.
When you meet a person do you attempt to pigeonhole them?