Circe Marden-Rull looks at Grandmother characters and tropes in media, exploring their importance along with our relationships with our own older female family members.

When I was younger, I was gifted a book called Grandmothers’ Stories: Wise Woman Tales from Many Cultures. This book is full of stories about spirited grandmothers from everywhere from Sweden to Senegal. Some stories were more familiar such as ‘Mother Holle’, a traditional German fairytale, while other stories such as ‘The Midwife and the Djinn’ from Senegal were new to me.

Regardless of what culture these stories originated from, crucially, they all celebrate the figure of the ‘Wise Woman’. Because as much as I love listening to a bit of Olivia Neil’s podcast, it is important to remember that the women who inspire us and that we choose to expose ourselves to should not just be young, conventionally beautiful and successful within a capitalist framework. In Grandmothers’ Stories, Mutén defines this wise woman figure as ‘the keeper of tradition, the storyteller, the teacher, healer and leader of her people’. In a time of social media and the glorification of girl-boss feminism, I think a turn back to the past is needed more than Ever.

The ‘Wise Woman’ in these stories are powerful protagonists who defy stereotypical visions of youthful femininity, emphasising that feminism should not be about productivity or looking a certain way. Instead, we should look to traits such as resourcefulness, kindness and independence. Naomi Wolf’s The Beauty Myth indicates that as the social power and prominence of women have increased, the pressure they feel to uphold unrealistic physical beauty standards has grown stronger because of commercial influences on the mass media.

Therefore, whilst we have become a more equal society in many ways, we now more than ever see beauty and youthfulness as essential values for women. In Western society, the rise of social media has contributed to this, meaning that older women are often disregarded and seen as having lost their value as women. Whilst ‘girl-boss’ feminism is extremely linked to appearance and youthfulness, the ‘Wise Woman’ goes beyond this restrictive and one-dimensional image of feminism.

In line with this symbol of the ‘Wise Woman’, I like to see my grandmothers as feminist icons. They are both strong women who have challenged norms and continue to display autonomy in their everyday lives. My Spanish grandmother was exiled to Colombia during the Spanish Civil war. Not only did she and her family have to fully adapt to another culture, but she also helped raise her younger sister. Her strength of character is also clear in her present actions; she is by no means a typical grandmother, and cooking is not a priority for her. Instead, she loves to spend hours snorkelling in the sea despite her lack of mobility and crutches. Her strength of character ultimately symbolizes the feminist power the wise woman archetype holds. While my English grandmother may have had a somewhat more conventional life, she has recently rebuilt her life since her husband died and now spends her time doing yoga classes, teaching herself art and lino prints and giving me interesting book recommendations. Her quiet confidence is admirable.

Perhaps in contrast to the ‘Wise Woman’ symbol, the pop culture critic Matt Brennan signals a rise in the Bad Grandma syndrome – “Unapologetic and at times unexpectedly crass, stylish, successful, and independent, the Bad Grandma resists the erasure of older women in American society by refusing to become invisible.” “[She] recognises that feminism is a lifelong struggle, not a war that’s been won. And she’ll keep on fighting to the bitter end, ardently refusing to go quietly.” Gangsta Granny, a favourite movie of mine, is a prime example of ‘Bad Grandma syndrome’. The protagonist subverts the image of the one-dimensional innocent sweet Grandmother, who, as well as loving Scrabble, is in fact an international jewel thief. However, ultimately, although the ‘Bad Grandma’ and the wise woman archetype may seem different on the surface, they both envision grandmothers as sources of power and autonomy who we should understand beyond their maternal role.

At university, often surrounded by people exactly your age, it’s easy to lose contact with your elderly relatives. Calling your grandmother and hearing about the gardening she’s been doing may not compare to ringing your uni bestie and having a morning debrief. However, I encourage you to call your grandmothers and catch a glimpse into the wisdom and agency these women can bring you.

An ideal way to get an insight into your grandmother’s true selves is by asking them about their past; don’t shy away from asking them about past relationships, friendships and potentially even their uni days. My Spanish grandmother is always full of surprising advice, she is assertive and I love hearing her stories about when she was my age.

In a recent call, I was asking her for some romantic advice and she said ‘Your life is your own and you don’t owe anybody any kind of explanation’. (La vida es tuya y no le debes ninguna explicación a nadie). If this isn’t unapologetic feminism I don’t know what is!