Nearly a decade ago, a girl was announced dead. She was six years old.
There wasn’t a funeral for her; instead, there was a quiet celebration of her death. Critics applauded the end of her, wishing good riddance instead of empathetic condolences. As she got lowered into the ground, women everywhere whooped and hollered. Men stood back and silently wept.
Buried with her was her brightly colored hair, retro sense of style, underground music taste, and quirky personality that captured men’s fascination. Despite always maintaining the same sense of personality, she took on a myriad of eccentric names: Sam, Holly, Claire, Alaska, Clementine, and Summer being just a few.
But there isn’t enough space for that many names on a gravestone, so instead, hers reads this:
REST IN PIECES
MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL
2007 - 2013
She wasn’t a girl at all, but the idea of one. Specifically, she was a trope created by men and perpetuated by the media. The Manic Pixie Dream Girl (MPDG) was born in 2007 by film critic Nathan Rabin, whose review of Cameron Crowe’s Elizabethtown first put a name to the archetype (though she existed long before that). He describes the character as a girl who “exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures.”
Basically, the MPDG is a portrayal of a whimsical, quirky girl who enters a man’s life to give him purpose – then, she flees the scene. She saunters into his boring world, showing him great art, unusual literature, and love – because often, the type of man who becomes infatuated with her has never experienced it before.
She sounds too good to be true, right?
Right. Besides not existing, there are a few catches with the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Despite her intense infatuation with the male protagonist, she almost never aligns herself with the traditional idea of a Hollywood romance. Instead, MPDG doesn’t want commitment. She is an unconventionally dressed carrot, dangling herself in front of a man who loves to read, has an annoyingly large vinyl collection, and is overall just a nice guy.
In these movies and books, the man is never to blame. He falls head over heels for this woman he has placed on a pedestal because she was written for the purpose of helping him change into a better, more fun human being.
Often, the audience is led to believe that these are desirable dynamics. At the peak of the MPDG trope, real women were sculpting themselves into the mold of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, believing that donning colorful hair will attract the sensitive guy of their dreams.
***
I was six years old when the Manic Pixie Dream girl was born, though I had yet to be introduced to her. It wasn’t until her death that I became acquainted with her, and even then, she didn’t have a formal title.
For me, she first appeared under the name of Alaska Young. At 11 years old, I was introduced to the world of John Green, the author of Looking for Alaska (2005), An Abundance of Katherines (2006), Paper Towns (2008), and The Fault in Our Stars (2012). Though all of these books have female protagonists that share traits of the classic MPDG, Looking for Alaska takes the cake. The protagonist, Miles “Pudge” Halter, becomes infatuated with Alaska Young, a naturally gorgeous, incredibly smart high schooler that reads a hundred books a day and has an overly articulate tongue. She has an addictive personality, picked her whimsical name herself, and has a damaged past – all at the ripe age of 17.
But most of all she has the attention of Miles, who was the boy of my dreams as far as I was concerned. Maybe my infatuation with Miles types was because I was too young and too impressionable, and maybe it was because I found that book right as my hormones were raging. Regardless of the reason, I felt a thirst for not only being loved by a boy like Miles but by anyone in general. And in Looking for Alaska, everyone loved Alaska.
It is also worth noting that the Manic Pixie Dream Girl archetype was all that there was for me when it came to role models in media. I wasn’t athletic – I spent P.E. in the corner of the gym, my nose turned up in a book. I didn’t have a lot of friends, I was a bit weird, and I cared about my grades more than the usual kid. This meant that when looking at my options of role models to idolize, I didn’t have the luxury of many choices. I wasn’t a natural Marilyn Monroe, Kate Hudson, or Jennifer Lopez. Growing up, I would curl up with my mom and a rom-com and always leave wondering why I didn’t share similarities with the personable girls on screen.
Instead, I found solace in characters like Alaska. She was weird, creative, and loved words – all traits I shared with her. Alaska Young was my gateway drug into the world of Manic Pixie Dream Girls. I had found my place, my character, and my ideal personality – I just didn’t realize it also meant conforming myself to misogyny.
***
Beth Powell was sitting on the ground in her set design class, brushing paint on the board beneath her. She was sixteen. Her hair, which she had dyed black so it would make her skin look paler, was disheveled around her face. Her brushstrokes were so feverish that some green paint had splattered into her hair and got wiped across her cheeks like an unconventional blush.
She felt a presence, and suddenly a figure crouched beside her. It was a boy in the grade above hers—she recognized his glasses and his acne. He was super tall and had dishwater blonde hair, a lanky figure, and round glasses. “Beth,” he said, waiting for a beat so that she would look up at him through the strands of hair in front of her eyes. “You’re such an anomaly. I just can’t seem to figure you out.”
You can’t make this stuff up.
Powell remembers that moment like it was yesterday because, while it did make her a little uncomfortable, it confirmed that her facade of being that girl was working. In fact, that interaction encouraged her to not only keep up the facade but to amp it up even more.
“Even though now and at the time it grossed me out, a small part of me was like, ‘I’m that girl,’” Powell says, now 24. She’s wearing a black turtle neck with an orange vintage floral camisole overtop, jeans, and a worn black leather jacket. “A small piece of me was satisfied for being noticed for being so artsy, and I wasn’t even trying during that moment.”
At 16, Powell’s favorite movie was Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, a movie infamous for the perpetuation of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope. In it, Romona Flowers is a “weird girl” who is there to change the life of Scott Pilgrim, the main character who she has won the undying attention of. She wears skin-tight jeans, combat boots, tees, and army jackets. Her hair, which is cut short besides two long pieces that frame her face, changes colors more often than the seasons.
It is no secret that media of all types is influential to everyone, but especially on youth. Often, teenagers will imitate what they see on screens in an attempt to become similar to the characters they relate to, or just want to be more like. For Powell, this meant dying her hair, wearing baggy graphic t-shirts, and trading her converse sneakers for combat boots. It also meant lying to others about her hobbies so that she seemed “cooler” and “more attractive” to men around her, preferably men like Scott Pilgrim.
The Romana Flowers version of Beth Powell wrote poetry, had an obsession with unique teas, painted portraits in her free time, and overall was “different than other girls.” She was everything a certain kind of boy would want, and everything Powell wanted herself to become – except that she did not exist. Powell was constraining herself to fit into a narrative that wasn’t true to herself.
“Everything I made myself like were things that I actually liked on some level, but I made those specific things become my entire personality. I thought that by amplifying those qualities, I would become truly happy,” Powell said. “But I wasn’t being true to myself. I was being true to a character that was written entirely on surface-level.”
***
MPDG’s are written into scripts and novels with no actual backstory – they’re based entirely on superficial traits and never given their own plotline. In reality, it is impossible for women to make themselves conform to an actual Manic Pixie Dream Girl, because they are not real. Yes, real women can have quirky interests and interesting clothing choices, but they also have their own story arcs and minds of their own. The difference between Manic Pixie Dream Girls and women like Beth Powell and myself are that we are real.
For centuries, the world has manicured this idea that men are always the main-character in every story, and that women were simply there to aid them. Laurie Penny, an author who has explored the implications of MPDG’s in the real world, wrote that “men grow up expecting to be the hero of their own story. Women grow up expecting to be the supporting actress in somebody else’s.”
Since 2013, the Manic Pixie Dream Girl has been killed due to people recognizing the misogynistic implications surrounding the trope. In her place, though, new misogyny has taken root. Women can’t do anything unique without being scrutinized for trying to be “not like other girls,” and often these remarks come from other women themselves.
***
Ever since I could read, I have had a thirst for books – that’s just a trait I have nurtured. Sure, I amped up the complexity of books I read when I was a teenager and went through my own MPDG phase. But I still love to read, especially now as a 21-year-old. The other day, I was told there was a fifteen minute wait for my hair appointment. To pass the time, I whipped out a book I keep in my purse, thumbing through the crisp pages until I found my last stopping place.
My roommate, a 21 year old woman, looked at me and scoffed. “What?” I asked, closing my book. I could tell what she was going to say by the cadence of her snicker.
“Nothing,” she said, looking down at her phone as she waited for her own appointment. “You’re just so different and quirky.” She was implying that I was reading because I was trying to look like a woman who loves to read, instead of me actually being a woman who loves to read.
My response to her, which was full of feisty words, jumbled up like marbles in my mouth – cold and heavy against my tongue. There was too much to say, and I was so tired of having the same conversation with people my own age.
***
It is great that the MPDG stereotype has been beaten into her grave, but the world celebrated too quickly at her demise. Hurrah for the end of misogyny in media! Unfortunately, misogyny in the real world still exists, and now women who share any qualities of an MPDG are suffering the consequences via passive aggressive remarks.
Another unfortunate layer added to the MPDG and misogyny cocktail is the comparisons of the MPDG to women with neurodivergence in any form. Perhaps this is why women like Beth Powell and myself clung so deeply to these characters from a young age – both of us have been diagnosed with chronic ADHD. For the two of us, it shows itself in impulsive behavior, hyperactivity, hyperfocusing on obscure hobbies, and more. These traits, oddly enough, are all hallmarks of the classic MPDG – making it all the more harmful when MPDG’s are written and romanticized in media. (And especially harmful when society turns their backs on traits associated with the MPDG – because that means they are turning their backs on real women with autistic tendencies.)
In addition, the MPDG is often written with mental illnesses such as anxiety, depression, OCD, and bipolar disorder – leading to the fetishization of these illnesses. Something that, unfortunately, has been going on for a long time at the hands of men. In 2012, a study was conducted at the University of Texas in Austin that found that men are more likely to pursue a woman who looks more “psychologically vulnerable” – but only for short-term involvement.
That’s right: men are scientifically proven to be more attracted to mentally ill and neurodivergent women, but they are less likely to want actual relationships with them.They save those for the less-attractive, mentally stable girls.
Suddenly, the fact that so many MPDG’s have been written into media is a lot more problematic than thought feasibly possible.
But there is hope. Since 2013, media has become significantly more progressive, and female writers and directors are on the rise. Gerta Gerwig wrote and directed Lady Bird, one of my all-time favorite films, about the complicated and beautiful relationship between women and their mothers. It has served as a catalyst for me in college, transitioning me from MPDG movie lover to female-lead film devotee. Sofia Coppola (The Virgin Suicides, Marie Antoinette), Debra Granik (Winter’s Bone, Leave No Trace), and Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) are just a few examples of women dominating the filmscape, writing strong female characters with substance and complexities – exactly like women are in real life.
Variety of female emotions and feelings have also begun dominating media. In Gone Girl (Gillian Flynn), a book that has been adapted into a blockbuster hit, main character Amy Dunne embarks on an infamous monologue driven by female rage. “You are not dating a woman,” Amy sneers. “You are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them.”
People are becoming aware of the sour effects that MPDG’s have in the real world, and it is beginning to transition into media created today. The unfortunate reality is that, because the MPDG has been written into existence, she will still exist for young girls to conform to. And because the MPDG has been such publicly burned at the stake, women who have genuine quirky tendencies, mental illnesses, or neurodivergence continue to be shamed for things they cannot control.
Throw salt over your left shoulder, because the Manic Pixie Dream Girl still exists. She may not have been real, but the women she continues to effect are. And she might have formally died, but her ghost is haunting women everywhere.
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