By Mia Altamuro 

I’ve always loved storytelling. Books, theatre, movies – anything that allows me to communicate my experiences and identity in a unique way and to hear the stories of others who I’d have no way of knowing about otherwise. However, I noticed early on as a young girl how often our agency was taken from us in these mediums that were meant to do the opposite. 

While we like to say that we are free thinkers, the media that we consume does shape our worldview, which is why diversity matters. The first time that I became aware that I was a girl and that it meant I would be treated differently than boys, it was through storytelling. By reading books like Little House on the Prairie, I learned that there was a time when women couldn’t vote. Through the constant fairy tale portrayal of princesses who needed to be saved and male heroes who would do the saving, I learned that there were still people who viewed women as weak and inferior. This made me angry. 

It often feels like female characters fall into two categories: the ingenue or the whore. Female characters are either a princess – innocent and naive, existing to be fallen in love with – or they are a witch, existing to thwart the ingenue. The women we are supposed to root for are virginal, whereas the villainous women are the opposite. 

A third category exists, one that falls somewhere in between: the Lolita. I’m referring to the title character of Nabokov’s novel, a twelve-year-old who becomes the object of desire for a paedophile. She is a concept as much as a character. She is a ‘sexually precocious’ young girl, both innocent and devious, portrayed as a victim and as a temptress. 

I read Lolita as a teen. I felt lied to. To me, it was a sad story about a raped child that disturbed me to the point where I couldn’t sleep for several nights. But the copy that I purchased declared that it was ‘the only convincing love story of our century.’ Googling the story will reveal an online subculture focused on the alleged romance and aesthetic of the 1997 movie, something that Lana Del Rey capitalised off in her debut album. 

Society values youth and beauty in women. Virginity, thin bodies, hairless bodies. In men, it values wealth and status. It should come as no surprise that a story like Lolita – and paedophilia in general – is romanticised and even celebrated by pop culture. 

Some people will say that the story is outdated; the damsel in distress is out, strong women are in. But with the sexualisation of teen celebrities such as Billie Eilish and Millie Bobby Brown to the pressures social media puts on young girls to dress and act more mature than they really are, we are not beyond the world of Lolita. 

Women often complain about just how much violence against women is portrayed in fiction, and this is a frustration that I share. It can be exhausting to constantly see someone who is like you be violated. Thankfully we are discussing this issue now more than ever, from the #MeToo movement to the discussions that came in the aftermath of Sarah Everard’s murder. 

These problems are prevalent in storytelling today for the same reason it was prevalent in the past: it happens in fiction because it is also the reality. We no longer want the damsels or Lolitas, but we still have them. 

So, does Lolita have something to offer our modern dialogue? 

What Nabokov got right about paedophilia and abuse is found in the protagonist, Humbert. The majority of victims are raped by someone close to them. Abusers come across as charming, accomplished, trustworthy people to gain access to their victims. But it is easier for us to imagine abusers as shadowy figures who are distant and abstract, who could never be one of us. Because of this, culture misunderstood Humbert to be a sympathetic, romantic lead, and consequently men like him in the real world avoid social and legal fallout. 

As for Dolores (Lolita’s true name), her character is defined by a lack of character. We only see her through the perverted eyes of her molester. The real person behind this fantasy, who fights for her future and wants to escape, comes in glimpses. 

It’s true that abuse victims lose their agency and voice, but modern women want something more. They want a Lolita who doesn’t shy away from the pain and suffering of abuse, but who also shows the healing and taking back of power, who doesn’t sexualise or romanticise abuse, but instead gives victims a voice.