The Stories Girls Need: A Response to Freya India

Yes, the right has forgotten feelings. No, arguments will not win the hearts and minds of today's young women. Here's what could: Emotionally evocative stories of female formation in truth and virtue.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

If you have not yet read the recent First Things essay by the popular writer Freya India, The Right Has Forgotten Feeling, you should.

Twenty-four-year-old India grew up in the dominant, secular culture of the UK without so much as a nominal religious bulwark against its amoral norms. Her female peers, she maintains, desperately need to know the right-coded truths that she now accepts: casual sex is a bad deal for women; religion organized around the traditional family is a good one.

But according to India, the right’s attempts to persuade young women of these realities by way of intellectual argument are mostly futile and sometimes destructive. She counsels those who want to help girls eschew today’s amoral norms in favor of something better to embrace and fulfill—not ignore or condemn—the emotional and spiritual needs that are leading young women to uncritically embrace the secular left’s now-hegemonic lies in the first place. “The left,” India observes, “hears [young women’s] pain.” It “often has the wrong answers,” but “at least it listens.”

I confess that I was skeptical when first saw India’s piece, with its provocative thesis of a title, pop up in my Substack feed. After all, it is one of my foundational contentions that women should eschew both mainstream feminism and “trad” antifeminism precisely because, far from forgetting feeling, each has essentially infantilized and patronized women by elevating emotion and identity to the vaunted place that we should reserve for truth and virtue.

But India has convinced me that for all my harping on reality principles, I have largely failed to notice the only reality that matters here: the young women who most need to imbibe traditional values are constitutionally unable to do so. They cannot keep emotion in perspective, because they have no perspective. And they are not rejecting truth or virtue. A person cannot reject what she’s never seen, learned, or heard about.

The hollow remains of an already amoral, leftist culture are all that today’s young women know. There is nothing left to push back on in youthful rebellion, and nothing left to embrace on the other side. India writes:

Few try to understand what young women might be searching for in therapy culture, finding in liberal feminism, hearing from the left—what needs are being met that aren’t met elsewhere. Don’t we see that this world offers them no other sanctuary? Don’t we see that many young women haven’t “abandoned” faith, haven’t turned their backs on the sacred, but were born into a world already desecrated? That they haven’t forgotten their worth but were never taught it?

India suggests a remedy: that we talk about and argue from feelings rather than statistics, research, and texts. Talk about, for example, “the wound of growing up between two homes” and “help young women see that there are things in this life that should be held sacred, and that includes young women themselves.” And maybe she’s right about how we should relate to today’s twenty-something women. Maybe we should create the equivalent of a Federalist Society for therapists to attract more people with conservative values to psychological counseling. Maybe we should flood the social media zone with as many charismatic traditionalist influencers as we can and see who catches on. For India’s peers, it might be too late for anything else; and these tactics might do some good, as far as they go.

But we have much more opportunity to steep the next generation of girls, the ones in preschool and grade school today, in truth, goodness, beauty, and wisdom before the culture lays sole claim to their attention. We don’t want them to grow up amid this same desecration, such that we’re once again trying to find balm for their broken souls a decade from now. We don’t want to be always on the defensive, helping individuals heal from a lifetime of dashed hopes and nonexistent morals by out-emoting the left (which we’ll never be able to do). We want to prevent the souls of the next generation from being broken in the first place, even as they encounter this broken world.

We may not know exactly how, but we can start by trying to fill the souls of today’s girls with worthy art, specifically, the kinds of great stories that address female formation in ways that subtly, and therefore deeply, steep girls in truth and virtue.

The Power of Great Stories

I am thirty-seven years old. I grew up in the dominant, secular culture of the US in the Sex and the City era. Things then were about as morally desecrated—though not as inhumanly pornified—as they are now.

When I have considered why I was invulnerable to the mainstream feminist ideas about work, sex, family, and more while so many of my equally (and more) intelligent peers were felled by them, I have thought mostly of my dad. A Catholic university professor and nonpartisan public intellectual, he has made a career of dispelling popular myths and replacing them with hard truths. At his hands, as a tween and a teen, I received lasting inoculation against ideological illogic. So, when I breathed in the culture’s regnant feminism with everyone else—first the popular kind, as a girl coming of age among mainstream peers, and then the academic iteration, as an undergraduate and graduate student in the humanities—I was already inured to its flaws because I was disposed to question supposedly incontrovertible dogma.

But India’s essay made me see that most of the credit for my own invulnerability to the dominant culture around women’s issues goes not to my dad, but to my mom. Long before I was intellectually capable of his reason, I was emotionally and spiritually formed by her stories. Certainly, the books and ideas my dad provided taught me, on an intellectual level, how marriage and family formation benefit society. But more immediately important to me when I was India’s age was that, thanks to the books and films my mom introduced, I knew how falling in the kind of love that is likely to result in a happy, lasting marriage should (and shouldn’t) feel.

This is the emotional and spiritual formation that today’s right needs to encourage for today’s young women. Arguments will not reach people who are fundamentally unaware that there is anything left to argue about. We need to seize any opportunity to plant the emotional and spiritual seeds that could help girls to see and long for a world before—and maybe after—these ruins.

Here, in order of first publication or release, are five formational (sets of) stories that might help, or at least, serve as a starting point.

Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women (1868), Eight Cousins (1875), and Rose in Bloom (1876): For men and women alike (I read Little Women to my sons, too), self-mastery and self-sacrifice constitute responsible maturation, not intolerable oppression. Unfettered freedom is empty. Seek in potential romantic partners the steady friendship and loyal devotion that make a good husband, not the fickle infatuation that often leads to a broken heart. (The 1994 Little Women movie captures the book well, but there’s no substitute for reading it, along with the other two.)

L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables (1908) and Anne of Avonlea (1909): Imagination and passion are best deployed not to fantasize about a dream world that doesn’t exist, but to appreciate and improve the corner of the actual world that you inhabit. Perhaps more relevant than ever today: don’t be so intent on hooking some unattainable Prince Charming who checks all your predetermined requirements (or on living exactly the life that you conjured for yourself without the compromises that inevitably attend coupledom) that you overlook a more suitable match. (The 1987 miniseries is as good as or better than the books).

Yours, Mine, and Ours (1968): True love does not set you free; it does the opposite. The idea of love and sex as separate from commitment and responsibility is now a technical possibility, but it is nevertheless an eternal lie. Real love looks outward, to a life filled with as much chosen obligation to others as a given couple can handle.

American Girl’s original Felicity, Kirsten, Addy, Samantha, and Molly story sets (1986-1994): The timeless qualities of strength, bravery, and responsibility are for girls, too. The self-expression that we valorize today is actually infantilization, not empowerment. Growing up means growing past absolute beliefs about what should be, and into nuanced understanding about how to make the best of what is.

Disney’s Mulan (1998) and The Princess and the Frog (2009): Your ambition, intelligence, and drive do not militate against marriage; the men worth marrying find women who demonstrate these Tocquevillian virtues attractive. Moreover, prioritizing and/or achieving romantic partnership does not make you any less ambitious, intelligent, or driven. But women and men do not typically express ambition, intelligence, and drive in the same ways or to the same ends, nor should they be expected to.

This admittedly idiosyncratic set of stories is not didactic, moralistic, or antiquated. In fact, these stories are poised to fulfill the distinctly female craving for emotional authenticity and psychological intimacy with other women, fictional or otherwise. They do so in a way that militates toward truth and virtue, rather than against them. This—not argument, and not high art—is one powerful way that young women can establish a foundational sense of how a female life well-lived should feel.

Right now, the dominant version of womanhood ostensibly well-lived is constructed by Tik Tok influencers and flimsily feminist-coded cartoon heroines with all the hollowness of Sleeping Beauty and (remarkably) even less worthy ambition. Most girls will encounter this content, and most of them will be influenced by it, and many of them will influence one another accordingly. This is doubly true in an era when ideas about what being a woman looks and feels like are transmitted ever more entirely by popular culture and peers, due to ever fewer intergenerational family and community ties.

But if we believe in the sanctity of the human spirit—and we must, if we are to have any hope at all—then we have to bet that exposure to all the nonsense will damage a young woman far less if she is also exposed to quality stories that provide her with a deeper, broader, less presentist and more universal perspective. Imbibing quality art despite living in a decadent age is the mental and spiritual equivalent of eating nutritious meals despite also consuming junk. If the alternative is eating only junk, even some nutritious meals make a big difference to your general health.

There are many possible ways to increase adolescent girls’ exposure to such healthy content. Perhaps a reprint of the original American Girl books by a conservative publishing house with deep pockets is in order, or a prefab book club to encourage reading them in schools and libraries. Or, we might benefit from excellent live action films of Mulan and The Princess and the Frog or new film adaptations of those other old books—ones that honor rather than undermine their life lessons. These are all mere starting points, but they are a start, nonetheless.

None of these measures, standing alone, will restore our fallen culture on any scale. But repeated exposure to spiritually gripping, emotionally evocative stories of female formation in truth and virtue might at least open the eyes of some girls to the possibility of creating something better over their own horizons. Then those girls may encounter the dominant culture with at least the knowledge that alternatives—including ones providing different ways of accessing similar kinds of girl-coded emotional succor—can and do exist.

And if, for even one girl, that seed of knowledge blossoms into a tree of truth and virtue, we’ll already be doing better by tomorrow’s young women than we are today.

Editor’s note: This piece was originally published at Public Discourse.