Rewriting the Strong Female Character in Media 

We all know her.  

She’s the action hero who never cries. The emotionally detached detective. The girlboss who works 80-hour weeks, outruns trauma and definitely doesn’t need help from anyone. She’s the “strong female character” we’ve seen a hundred times, and she’s become more trope than truth. 

In the early 2000s and 2010s, female characters like Lara Croft, Katniss Everdeen and Olivia Pope were hailed as feminist icons. They were smart, stoic, and fiercely independent. But over time, many of these portrayals have flattened into one-dimensional figures who equate strength with emotional suppression. 

Lara Croft in Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft, for instance, captures the classic “strong female character” in full effect. In one clip, Croft performs immaculate martial arts moves, flawlessly efficient and relentlessly unstoppable. Its strength presented as a spectacle: pure physical power without emotional insight. A perfect example of the trope feminist critics challenge_, the hyper‑competent warrior who’s revered, but not humanized. 

Feminist media critics like Anita Sarkeesian have argued that many so-called “strong female characters” are often crafted not to reflect how women see themselves, but to serve as male power fantasies, physically dominant, hyper-competent and emotionally hollow. These portrayals matter because the media doesn’t just reflect reality, it shapes our perceptions of identity, strength and what roles are possible for women to occupy. 

What Real Strength Looks Like 

Real strength isn’t about being untouchable. It’s about being touched by life and choosing to keep going. It’s a vulnerability. Self-compassion. Knowing when to ask for help. That kind of emotional resilience is far more reflective of the human experience, and especially the way women often show up in the world. 

In her work on self-compassion, Dr. Kristin Neff explains that strength can come from soothing ourselves rather than silencing ourselves. Her research shows that people who practice self-compassion are more resilient and mentally healthier, not less tough, but tougher in ways that matter. 

Think of Moana, who leads with heart, not aggression. Or Sydney from The Bear, who is assertive, brilliant and also clearly overwhelmed, struggling to manage expectations and her own perfectionism. Or Fleabag, who’s flawed and raw but lets us see her grief, shame and healing process. 

These women aren’t strong in spite of their softness, they’re strong because of it. 

In one powerful moment in The Bear, Sydney, usually composed and competent, has a sudden panic attack in the hallway after seeing The Beef’s four-star review on her fridge. It’s a raw, vulnerable display of emotional breaking point: strength that falters, not from weakness, but from the weight of expectations. This clip beautifully illustrates “soft strength,” where a heroine’s emotional reality is the source of her power. 

Softness Is Not a Weakness 

The stories we consume shape our inner lives. A 2020 study from the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media found that female characters in popular films are still significantly more likely to be portrayed in caregiving roles, but when they do lead, they’re rarely shown asking for help or expressing emotion. This contributes to the myth that “strength” means doing it all alone, with no cracks showing. 

This messaging can be damaging, especially to young women trying to live up to unrealistic standards. When we never see our softness reflected as a strength, we learn to hide it. We push through burnout, dismiss our own needs and feel ashamed of emotions that are actually deeply human. 

The Rise of Soft Strength 

Fortunately, a new wave of storytelling is emerging, one that embraces soft strength as not only valid, but revolutionary. Shows like Big Little Lies, Maid, and Sex Education as well as movies like Everything Everywhere All At Once are highlighting women who cry, rage, care, collapse and rise again. 

Characters like Celeste Wright (Nicole Kidman) in Big Little Lies or Beth March in Little Women show that strength can look like surviving, caregiving, forgiving or walking away. Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh) in Everything Everywhere All At Once saves her family not through force, but through kindness, empathy and radical acceptance. 

These stories don’t erase pain, they humanize it. They show that it’s possible to be vulnerable and still powerful, emotional and still capable, soft and still strong. 

Rethinking the Strong Female Character Trope 

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about rejecting traditional strength. Action heroes and bold leaders still have a place. But we need to make room for other kinds of strength too, the kinds we see in real life, in ourselves and in each other. 

As media scholar Sarah Banet‑Weiser argues, popular feminist narratives often stop at “individual empowerment,” boosting self‑esteem and personal ambition within a neoliberal framework, but real change requires emphasizing collective care, emotional honesty and community‑building. We need to expand our understanding of strength to include interdependence, vulnerability and solidarity. 

A Call for More Human Heroines 

So, what can we do? 

• We can support writers, directors and creators who are telling emotionally complex stories about women.  

• We can call for media literacy in schools that helps young people question narrow portrayals of strength.  

• Most importantly, we can stop apologizing for our softness. It’s not weakness, it’s evidence of our capacity to feel, connect and survive. 

Because the next generation of strong female characters shouldn’t have to choose between being powerful and being human. 

They should be allowed to be both.