The Pretense of Gender Subversion in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

Professor McGonagall was right to claim that Harry Potter would be famous (Rowling 14). A quarter of a century after the first publication of J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in 1997, the eponymous hero of the series remains iconic and relevant. The sheer popularity of the books has enticed critics to engage in a multidisciplinary analysis of this phenomenon.[1] Most often, scholars are quick to note that the story is not wholly original.[2] This lack of originality has been attributed to Rowling simply borrowing from preexisting genres, such as the fairy tale and the school story genres, with the added observation that she does not stray far from the conventional path these stories normally take.[3]

Claims that the story of Harry Potter follows fairy tale motifs seem to be convincing, however, the story can also—perhaps even more effectively so—be associated with the school story genre. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry possesses all the major characteristics and familiar elements of the British public school system, from the different houses and their competitive elements to the food hall, dormitories, social hierarchies, and even the system of rewards and punishments (Hiebert Alton 210). The origin of the school story genre is identified as Thomas Hughes’s Tom Brown’s Schooldays, first published in 1857,[4] which depicts the privileged male hero as naturally strong, brave, masculine, and proud to be attending Rugby School. Similar tropes of the elite institution in Rugby appear in Hogwarts. Thus, Harry Potter seems to continue the traditional genre of school stories and delivers the same problematic messages.

At the same time, scholars have also argued that Harry Potter is rather radical. David Steege (2002), for example, insists that Rowling breaks away from the traditional story of the public boarding school by subverting class hierarchies and gender stereotypes (141). On the surface, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone might seem to challenge the conventions of the school story genre, but a thoroughgoing assessment of gender roles and power structures in the book shows that the patriarchal structures of power and privilege are maintained by trafficking in gender stereotypes. Thus, Harry Potter perpetuates the traditional gender structures of the school story genre.

Representation of Gender Roles

Public boarding schools in England were traditionally segregated by gender, and originally exclusively for boys (Galway 73, Steege 141). In Harry Potter, Rowling subverts this idea of a single-gender school and retells the boarding school story by depicting a coeducational school setting in which women serve on the faculty and girls are part of the student cohort. Female characters participate in sports and play a major role in driving the plot. The mere inclusion of female characters in the narrative is not sufficient, however, to support an argument that the text purposefully and thoroughly subverts the gender constructs in the traditional school story genre. In fact, Heilman and Donaldson (2008) argue that the books are successful in part because they reproduce and reaffirm familiar representations of gender roles (159). These familiar representations are highly visible in the book in both quantity and quality. Inclusion is not equity.

Heilman and Donaldson’s analysis reveals that female characters are still a minority. Among the students in the first four books, 29 girls and women versus 35 boys and men are named; overall, 115 girls and women to 201 boys and men are mentioned across the entire series (141). These numbers of course suggest some measure of inequality; nevertheless, in terms of the faculty, the school employs an equal number of male and female professors. Yet Chantel Lavoie (2003) observes that although quantitative equality does seem to exist on the faculty, qualitative differences matter. To take the example of the four houses, the most memorable and important schools in the series were founded by male professors, and the main fight between good and evil is between these houses (Lavoie 36). Thus, Galway (2012) concludes that “it is through these latent portrayals of traditional gender stereotypes that Rowling, while on the surface creating a world that promotes gender equality, in fact reifies Hughes’s nineteenth-century notions of masculine leadership and companionship” (74). Portraying female characters as inferior in their roles and authority could be considered more harmful than the traditional depiction of the segregated schools for either boys or girls because, in a mixed-gendered environment, male domination over their female counterparts appears as somehow normal.

Hermione Granger

Hermione Granger, the female character of the main trio, is introduced as a diligent girl who is “already wearing her new Hogwarts robes” (Rowling 112) before arriving at school. Throughout the book, she is defined by her intellect and studiousness. Right from the start, Hermione’s character is depicted as an opinionated, hardworking, and logical girl—the very model of a strong, independent woman. These qualities make her less appealing to Harry and Ron, however, who see her as far too earnest and bossy, even exhausting; as a result, they do not want to be near her or befriend her (Rowling 113). As the plot progresses, Hermione’s character changes such that she is driven more by emotion and less by logic. She falls back into a stereotypical female role, who serves only as an accessory that helps the white, male hero in his quest.

The first sign of her character’s transformation comes when she hears Ron referring to her as a “nightmare” (Rowling 184). She starts crying and is so distraught that she does not attend classes (giving up her passion) and refuses to come out of the girls’ bathroom (Rowling 184), a stereotypical and traditional place for a schoolgirl to hide an emotional breakdown. The same evening, when a troll enters the school, Harry and Ron mistakenly lock the troll in the girls’ bathroom, turning Hermione into a stereotypical “damsel in distress.” She loses her agency and is dependent on the male saviors to come and rescue her. In another sign that she has given up what defined her (her academic prowess) in an attempt to appeal to the boys, at a crucial moment her knowledge of magic does not stop her from “shrinking against the wall” helplessly, not being able to move, and almost fainting (Rowling 188). Her weakness is Ron’s strength. He manages to knock out the troll with a spell he had never before performed successfully, but one that Hermione had already mastered. It appears that the dangerous situation brings out the best in Ron (and Harry, too) and the worst in Hermione.

After this incident, Hemione drifts further away from her initial core values and, for the first time, lies to her teachers to take the blame and resulting punishment. She feels obligated to sacrifice herself to thank her male saviors. Ron, proud of his and Harry’s successful rescue, believes that, indeed, Hermione is indebted to them and tells Harry, “good of her to get us out of trouble like that [...] Mind you, we did save her [emphasized in original].” In response, Harry reminds him “she might not have needed saving if we had not locked the thing in with her” (Rowling 191-192). Harry’s intention may be honorable, but it is also perpetuating male dominance over female passivity or incapacity by highlighting the fact that he and Ron write the narrative as boys who both get the girl into trouble and save her. While Ron immediately becomes friends with Harry, Hermione has to prove herself to be worthy of their friendship (Manners Smith 75). Only after transforming into a more familiar stereotypical female character do Harry and Ron become amenable to the idea of Hermione joining their pack.

Throughout the book, Hermione’s character has many opportunities to show her strength and worth to the two male protagonists. She saves the day and Harry’s life during the Quidditch match (Rowling 204), steps up when the trio needs to get rid of Neville (293), and saves both Harry and Ron when they get trapped by the Devil’s Snare (298). Harry feels fortunate to have her as a friend (Rowling 194), and both Harry and Ron think she is brave (286). While all these scenes show Hermione to be a powerful female character and an important member of the group, troublesome representations undermine any analysis that would see a subversion of gender stereotypes in these situations. When dealing with Neville, Harry commands Hermione to “do something [emphasized in original],” and she dutifully complies (Rowling 293). Similarly, when Harry and Ron are trapped by the Devil’s Snare, although Hermione knows what needs to be done, Harry commends her to “light a fire!” (Rowling 298), and Ron mockingly shouts at her that she is a witch so does not need wood to light a fire. Again, in the face of danger, Hermione depends on the male characters, unable to think for herself. Instead, the three are lucky that “Harry doesn’t lose his head in a crisis” (Rowling 299).

By the end of the first book, Hermione is a shrew tamed: She more closely resembles a typical female character than the strong, opinionated, independent girl she originally was. The typical role Hermione assumes stands out when juxtaposing her behavior with the behavior of her male counterparts. She now “shrieks, screams, and speaks ‘nervously,’ reactions the boys do not have,” as Heilman and Donaldson note (146). In their view, Hermione’s brilliance and skills exist only to aid Harry with his journey to greatness. As they bluntly, but fairly, conclude, “he is the hero; she is but an assistant” (145). As if to make sure that the supremacy of the white male does not go unnoticed, Rowling emphasizes Hermione’s submissiveness to Harry and undermines her own capabilities by showing her devalue herself:

Hermione’s lip trembled and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

“Hermione!”

“Harry - you’re a great wizard, you know.”

“I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, humiliated, as she let go of him.

“Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and - oh Harry - be careful!” (Rowling 308)

This exchange further perpetuates the traditional school story genre by insisting that classes, grades, and learning are not nearly as important as becoming a proper and ideal English gentleman. In keeping with the sexist structures of the genre, Rowling’s school story champions a white male hero who possesses these desirable qualities—as inborn.

Professor McGonagall

Professor McGonagall is seemingly another strong, central female character. She is high up in the hierarchy of the school as Head of Gryffindor, Professor of Transfiguration, and Deputy Headmistress. Having a woman as a powerful faculty member would seem to illustrate that Rowling’s Harry Potter breaks away from the established norms of the traditional school story; however, from the first chapter, Professor McGonagall’s power is shown to be limited when compared to her male counterparts. Professor McGonagall discusses recent events with Professor Dumbledore and refers to Voldemort, the Dark Lord and main antagonist, as You-Know-Who (Rowling 11). Dumbledore cannot continue with the discussion and pauses to comment on “All this ‘You-Know-Who’ nonsense” (Rowling 11) and encourages her to call Voldemort by his name and not to be frightened by it. McGonagall objects, yet she comes across as weak and scared, unlike the brave Dumbledore. Moreover, when delivering baby Harry to the Dursleys after his parents were killed, McGonagall disagrees with Dumbledore about this being the right place for Harry to grow up. Instead of standing her ground, “Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, ‘Yes - yes, you’re right, of course’” (Rowling 14). Rowling portrays McGonagall as wholly deferential. When Harry immediately recognized and respects Professor McGonagall’s authority, acknowledging that she “was not someone to cross” (Rowling 121), Rowling still ensures that Harry and his friends have no problem lying to her (Rowling 190). They probably would not imagine lying to Dumbledore, Rowling implies, because Harry thinks Dumbledore “knows more or less everything” (Rowling 325). A woman’s authority can be subverted, whereas a man’s must be obeyed.

Throughout the book, in keeping with traditional patriarchal relationships of power in the traditional school story genre, male characters are depicted as “more powerful, and more fun than females” (Heilman and Donaldson 146). This is explicit in the conversation between Dumbledore and McGonagall in the first chapter. McGonagall is dumbstruck that Dumbledore easily sees through her disguise and asks him, “How did you know it was me?” He replies, somewhat condescendingly, “my dear Professor, I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly” (Rowling 10), which is perhaps implicitly pointing to her rigid personality but also invokes the stereotype of the frigid woman who has sacrificed her femininity in exchange for power. As if to prove him right, McGonagall refuses a sherbet lemon from Dumbledore “as though she didn’t think this was the moment for sherbet lemons” (Rowling 11). She spent the whole day observing Privet Drive instead of joining the celebrations, since to her, defeating evil is construed as “no reason to lose our heads,” (Rowling 11) thus positioning Dumbledore as the fun, casual man that the characters, as well as the readers, are fonder of; their relationship parallels Hermione and Harry’s. Similarly, in Hogwarts McGonagall acts as the schoolmarm there to punish the trio for breaking the rules, whereas Dumbledore encourages Harry by gifting him the Cloak of Invisibility.

Unlike her relationship with Dumbledore, McGonagall’s relationship with Hagrid does take on a more subversive form, as she adopts a more typical male role in opposition to Hagrid’s submissive feminine role. Hagrid is not a hegemonic masculine figure; he has a pink umbrella (Rowling 61), which not only has a feminine color but also is a feminine symbol. Hagrid is depicted as an emotional, talkative, and motherly figure. When parting from baby Harry at the Dursleys’ doorstep, he “let[s] out a howl like a wounded dog” and needs Professor McGonagall to act as the logical, cold male and set him straight: “yes, yes, it’s all very sad, but get a grip on yourself” (Rowling 16). The only reason McGonagall dominates Hagrid is because he is depicted as a rather feminine (even infantile or animalistic) and not a dominant masculine male.

Throughout the book, Professor McGonagall has both moments when she is a typical female and those when she is a more subversive example of a strong and independent woman. According to Eliza Dresang (2002), she is a woman who is doing her best in a world run by men: “She is head of the most prestigious house, Gryffindor, and she is party to all important decisions. The structure of authority, the patriarchal society, places some constraints on her, but she is an empowered female within this structure” (235). Even with all this in mind, and with the great magical powers Rowling endows her, McGonagall is still unable to protect Hogwarts from invasion when Dumbledore is not around. Such is the gendered economy of magical powers that Rowling constructs: Dumbledore is equal to the task of vanquishing evil; McGonagall is not.

Sports

Finally, consider the representation of gender roles and power structures when it comes to sports in Harry Potter, another major feature in the traditional school story genre. Here, too, Rowling sticks to the main structure of the school story, and as a result, Quidditch is crucial to the plotline and character development of Harry Potter, with a chapter all of its own (Rowling 193). Although Quidditch has some trappings of the traditional sport in the school story genre, at first glance it seems that having successful female players on the team and a female professor who not only supports the team, by finding Harry as a seeker and buying him the newest broom in the market (Rowling 161,176) but also enjoys the game as much as her fellow male characters, is rather subversive. Moreover, the fact that Quidditch requires the players to fly on broomsticks is in itself quite subversive, as broomsticks are associated mostly with female witches (Gallardo and Smith 196). When the female players score, their success goes almost unnoticed and is accompanied by sexist remarks from Jordan, the commentator, who makes an announcement to the entire school via the speaker about how attractive Angelina, the chaser, is (Rowling 199). The female chasers have no real influence on the result of the game, and the main players, who include the captain of the team and the seeker, are both males. In Hogwarts, as in Rugby, the chosen male hero ends up winning the game, demonstrating natural aptitude and skills beyond learning or experience. Women can try hard, but men will naturally succeed. Rowling might build a coed sports team, but her story maintains male domination.

Conclusion

On the surface, Harry Potter might seem an updated version of the traditional school story genre with powerful female characters who are pivotal and meaningful, but in fact the conventions of the genre are reinscribed and reinforced. The girls and women in Harry Potter defer to men, diminish themselves, and deny their own power. Even as Rowling includes girls and women, she undermines them by portraying submissive female characters. Thus, Rowling merely perpetuates existing patriarchal hierarchies.

Whether or not Rowling intended it to, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone reflects a patriarchal world, that despite having female characters who have the potential to be equal or superior to their male counterparts, is dominated and led by the male characters. Girls and women might master magic, but its power belongs first and foremost to boys and men.

Works Cited

Dresang, Eliza T. “Hermione Granger and the Heritage of Gender.” The Ivory Tower and Harry Potter: Perspectives on a Literary Phenomenon, edited by Lana A. Whited, The Curators of the University of Missouri, 2002, pp. 211-234.

Gallardo, Ximena, and Jason Smith. “Cinderfella: J. K. Rowling’s Wily Web of Gender.” Reading Harry Potter: Critical Essays, edited by Giselle Liza Anatol, Praeger Publishers, 2003, pp. 191–205.

Galway, Elizabeth A. “Reminder of Rugby in the Halls of Hogwarts: The Insidious of the School Story Genre on the Works of J. K. Rowling.” Children’s Literature Association, vol. 37, no. 1, 2012, pp. 66–85.

Heilman, Elizabeth E. “Introduction: Fostering Insight Through Multiple Critical Perspectives.” Critical Perspectives on Harry Potter, 2nd ed., Routledge, 2008, pp. 1–9.

Heilman, Elizabeth E., and Trevor Donaldson. “From Sexist to (sort-of) Feminist Representations of Gender in Harry Potter Series.” Critical Perspectives on Harry Potter, 2nd ed., Routledge, 2008.

Hiebert Alton, Anne. “Playing the Genre Game: Generic Fusions of the Harry Potter Series.” Critical Perspectives on Harry Potter, 2nd ed., Routledge, 2008, pp. 199–223.

Hughes, Thomas. Tom Brown’s Schooldays and Tom Brown at Oxford. Wordsworth Editions Ltd., 1999.

Lavoie, Chantel. “Safe as Houses: Sorting and School Houses in Hogwarts.” Reading Harry Potter: Critical Essays, edited by Giselle Liza Anatol, Praeger Publishers, 2003, pp. 35–49.

Manlove, Colin. From Alice to Harry Potter: Children’s Fantasy in England. Lisa Loucks Christenson Publishing, LLC, 2003.

Manners Smith, Karen. “Harry Potter’s Schooldays: J.K. Rowling and the British Boarding School Novel.” Reading Harry Potter: Critical Essays, edited by Giselle Liza Anatol, Praeger Publishers, 2003, pp. 69–87.

Ostry, Elaine. “Accepting Mudbloods: The Ambivalent Social Vision of J.K. Rowling’s Fairy Tales.” Reading Harry Potter: Critical Essays, edited by Giselle Liza Anatol, Praeger Publishers, 2003, pp. 89–101.

Richards, Jeffrey. Happiest Days: The Public Schools in English Fiction. Manchester UP, 1988.

Rowling, J. K. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Bloomsbury Publishing, 1997.

Steege, David, K. “Harry Potter, Tom Brown, and the British School Story: Lost in Transit?” The Ivory Tower and Harry Potter: Perspectives on a Literary Phenomenon, edited by Lana A. Whited, The Curators of the University of Missouri, 2002, pp. 140-156.

Zipes, Jack. “Ch. 9: The Phenomenon of Harry Potter, or Why All the Talk?” Sticks and Stones: The Troublesome Success of Children’s Literature from Slovenly Peter to Harry Potter, Routledge, 2002, pp. 170–190.

Notes

[1] For example, see Elizabeth Heilman (2012) and Jack Zipes (2002), to name a few.

[2] See the thorough analysis by Elizabeth Galway (2012).

[3] For similarities to the fairy tale genre, see Colin Manlove (2003); Elaine Ostry (2003); and Ximena Gallardo and Jason Smith (2003). For similarities to the school story genre, see Anne Hiebert Alton (2008); David Steege (2002); and Karen Manners Smith (2003)

[4] See Jeffrey Richards (1988).