“I don’t know who you are, or where you came from, but from now on you’ll do as I say.”
Princess Leia was one of my young-me role models, along with Wonder Woman, Teela from He-Man, Scarlett from GI Joe, and a few other ladies who got stuff done. I remember playing Star Wars with the kids in my neighborhood. It was agreed that my dog Maudie May was Chewie even though she was girl (a girl Wookiee seemed like a good idea), Diana and her brother’s yappy dog was Wicket, Diana’s brother (being blond) was Luke, but then the arguing began. Diana insisted on being Princess Leia. I was not cool with that because SHE DID IT WRONG. The one time I got to be Leia, I went to the shed and wrangled up my best water gun because Leia obviously was good at shooting stuff. Diana took one look at me and complained, “YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG. You’re not a princess! You have to be Han.”
Even at that young age I knew Han was hella dishy so I didn’t mind being him, but Diana’s assertion that I was the one incorrectly Leia-ing ticked me off.
Leia was not a wimpy princess, Leia kicked butt! She could shoot, and was what my mom called ‘sassy’ (at least when I pulled pithy one-liners) and she wasn’t a scaredy-pants when Darth Vader was threatening her.
In the end, I gave in and played as Han because it was better than hearing Diana whine, but I knew the score. Leia kicked butt and took names—but yeah, she was still a princess. And to my mind, that’s the way it should be.