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Before I dive into writing everything I can think of about this complicated character, I must acknowledge the numerous problems with the Twilight franchise. There are a whole host of valid critique of both the books and the films including, but not limited to, the misrepresentation of indigenous America communities, the central romanticisation of an abusive relationship, and the fact that there’s a character in the book who is revealed have been a member of the confederate army.

What I am interested in, however, is the other reasons people hate on the franchise and, more specifically, its central heroine.

One of the best and funniest poems I have ever read is “MONICA” by Hera Lindsay Bird on the character Monica Geller from Friends. One section reads:

‘She makes me want to stand in an abandoned Ukrainian parking lot
And scream her name at a bunch of dead crows’

So that’s how I, in my soul, feel about Bella Swan.

For those of you who didn’t grow up in the Twilight hey-day: Bella Swan is the protagonist of the Twilight series. She is introduced to us as a 17-year-old girl who loves classic novels like Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre. Bella is so selfless that instead of restricting her mother’s travels after she marries a baseball player, she leaves behind her school, her friends and the climate of sunny Phoenix to move in with her non-communicative police chief father. Her new home is a town called Forks, haunted by near permanent rain and, of course, a family of irresistibly attractive (and rich) vampires.

So here’s where I confess my expertise on the subject: I have read every single Twilight book (save Life and Death, the gender swapped version of the first book - I don’t have time to unpack that yet). I have even read Midnight Sun which is the first Twilight book, from Edward’s perspective. I’ve also read Stephanie Meyer’s other books: The Host and The Chemist, the latter of which is, no joke, the most bizarre spy thriller I have encountered, but reader, again: I don’t have time here.

When I read it earlier this year, Midnight Sun fleshed out Bella Swan a little more for me. I discovered that as well as the classic Byronic and regency heroes of the Brontes and Austen (on which, Meyer modelled Edward’s character) she also loves Agatha Christie, Douglas Adams and Monty Python. Whether you’ve read Twilight or not, surely the idea you have of it through cultural osmosis means you’re a little bit shocked that this kind of character enjoys - loves, even - The Life of Brian?!

We’re repeatedly shown that Bella is mature for her age: her mother’s disorganisation is so great that it is Bella who runs their household. In her new home, she cooks every night for her father. Despite this, she also displays a huge lack of common sense throughout the books. Edward is literally in front of her telling her he’s a blood-sucking murdering vampire and she’s certain she’ll be just fine. Edward also continually infantilises her throughout their relationship: physically moving her body around, blocking her from seeing her friends or driving her own car.

At the same time, Bella is deeply reclusive and private, to the point of loneliness. She is deeply insecure and sensitive. She feels alienated from everyone around her: her father barely talks to her, her bubbly mother is her best friend, but they are polar opposites. She finds it impossible to talk to other pupils at school.

She also feels like an outsider to things that are traditionally feminine: make-up, fashion and prom dances. She hates the snow to the point of hiding or running so it doesn’t fall on her. She hates the concept marriage (until book three, or four, in the series). She also hates her birthday and gifts and blood, fainting at the sight of it (oh Meyer, how ironic you are!) She is also deeply sarcastic, constantly daydreams, struggles to put her feelings into words and is deeply self-conscious.

Critics of Bella Swan will often parrot this idea of her being a boring character with no personality. They are clearly wrong: look at what a strange personality she has! The more I turn her over in my head, the more impossible she is to place.

Many books like Twilight, or that came after it trying to capitalise on its success, are filled with insert-yourself-here heroines. Young girls with mousey brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin and bland personalities. They are supposed to represent some sort of universal teenage experience (feeling ugly, feeling awkward, feeling like an outsider, being white and thin and shy) so that “every” young girl can pick up her story and think she’s just like me!

Bella has never been that character. And the more I unpick the critique against her, the more I am convinced that the people who hate Bella the most are the people who have never read, or perhaps even watched, Twilight.

When adapting the first book into a film, screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg said in an interview with Women and Hollywood:

‘When you start to read the criticism of Twilight, it’s just vitriol. It’s intense, the contempt […] We have seen more than our fair share of bad action movies, bad movies geared towards men or 13-year-old boys. And you know, the reviews are like okay that was crappy, but a fun ride. But no one says “Oh my god if you go to see this movie, you’re a complete fucking idiot.” And that the tone, that is the tone with which people attack Twilight.’

Think of the number of franchises that have flooded onto our screens in the last ten years: there are ten Fast and the Furious movies, Star Wars TV and film adaptations seem to pop up every six months and it feels like there are over 1,000 Marvel movies. I’m not saying young girls can’t watch these, I’m saying: in the last few years I can’t think of a single blockbuster film franchise aimed specifically at them.

The occasional film has raised its head here and there but mainly, society’s hatred for teenage girls has sat on the shoulders of one protagonist. And a flawed, sensitive protagonist at that.

Probably the most detested scene in the entire Twilight saga is the infamous “Bella sits on a chair” scene.

In what I believe to be a nod to Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice (2005), after Edward breaks up with her and leaves her behind, the seasons change around Bella whilst she sits in a chair, unmoving. People hate this scene. Like passionately hate it. Their argument runs something like this: it’s a terrible portrayal of a break up and suggests it’s completely fine to fall apart because your boyfriend breaks up with you. What a terrible thing to have modelled for young girls!

Except no, that’s not what the book, or film, is saying at all. Repeatedly, Bella’s father Charlie says - he might as well scream it at directly the camera - this is not okay! You are not okay!

I wish instead we could have had a conversation about mental health and what depression looks like. Is Bella’s response the average reaction to a break up? Maybe, maybe not. But it’s hers, and I can’t help but feel that so much of the hatred for this scene is, in part, a hatred of seeing the so-called dramatic or melodramatic emotions of teenage girls. I’m angry at the fact she’s never encouraged to go to therapy. I’m angry at her school for not picking up on her behaviour. I’m angry that the word “depression” itself is completely absent.

There’s a theory online that pops up every now and again that Bella is autistic. Those writing cite her overwhelming avoidance of rain, snow and the cold (a sensory reaction or temperature regulation issue), her panic and uneasiness at social situations, her lack of fear in certain situations, her inability to express how she feels, her meltdown when Edward leaves. I am allistic, and so I don’t think I have a vote in the conversation. But I’m fascinated by those who have found some kinship or connection to Bella - and especially to what is most hated about her.

As I said in the opening of this article, Twilight has many problems, and any unintentional representation of neurodiversity is most definitely as flawed as the books’ relationship with gender and race. And yet: I still find myself rising from a metaphorical chair to jump to Twilights defence time and time again. I know that part of this is some impossible-to-kill passion from when I was a young fan who owned the books and the DVDs and posters. However, I also so desperately hate how much we hate teenage girls. Their clothes and make-up are judged and mocked, their music is the worst music (remember the hatred of Britney Spears, Justin Bieber, One Direction), their films are no more cheesy and problematic than any other, but faced with hatred instead of eye rolls.

The bus I take often doubles as a school bus which, in the morning and evening, overflows with teenage girls. They swap their phones with each other, laugh loudly and, spookily, wear their school uniforms just like I did (I sincerely hoped the 2000s-2010s wouldn’t cycle around). I am not yet thirty, and yet I feel some overwhelming protection towards them. Soon, I know, they won’t be able to be unabashedly loud in public. Shame and taught politeness will have taken over. This is your last chance. I think. Be loud, love unashamedly.

When I take Bella to Bird’s car park with me and yell, I imagine her name echoes for longer than the 13 years her character has been around. From a distance, a casual passer by will never know if my yell is in anger or affection.

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