Charlotte is the clear winner, by a country mile, but all of them do it. And it’s not just “wouldn’t SOCIETY be better if we treated women like men,” although of course there’s plenty of that too, but just a lot of good old-fashioned “I’d be able to get my boyfriend to love me if we were BOTH GUYS” and “it would be a lot easier to relate to women, especially French ones, if I were a MAN right now.”
In college my friend (who used to pretend she was David Cassidy) invented a fake Brontë named Yentl. We kept waiting for someone to say, “hey, there’s no such person,” but they never did, so we lost interest.
And then of course there's the moment in Villette where Lucy refuses to dress entirely like a man while acting the part of a man...and then proceeds to act like a man!
“Dressed—dressed like a man!” exclaimed Zélie St. Pierre, darting forwards; adding with officiousness, “I will dress her myself.”
To be dressed like a man did not please, and would not suit me. I had consented to take a man’s name and part; as to his dress—halte là! [....]
St. Pierre sneered again, in her cold snaky manner.
I was irritable, because excited, and I could not help turning upon her and saying, that if she were not a lady and I a gentleman, I should feel disposed to call her out.
“After the play, after the play,” said M. Paul. “I will then divide my pair of pistols between you, and we will settle the dispute according to form: it will only be the old quarrel of France and England.”
In college my friend (who used to pretend she was David Cassidy) invented a fake Brontë named Yentl. We kept waiting for someone to say, “hey, there’s no such person,” but they never did, so we lost interest.
And then of course there's the moment in Villette where Lucy refuses to dress entirely like a man while acting the part of a man...and then proceeds to act like a man!
“Dressed—dressed like a man!” exclaimed Zélie St. Pierre, darting forwards; adding with officiousness, “I will dress her myself.”
To be dressed like a man did not please, and would not suit me. I had consented to take a man’s name and part; as to his dress—halte là! [....]
St. Pierre sneered again, in her cold snaky manner.
I was irritable, because excited, and I could not help turning upon her and saying, that if she were not a lady and I a gentleman, I should feel disposed to call her out.
“After the play, after the play,” said M. Paul. “I will then divide my pair of pistols between you, and we will settle the dispute according to form: it will only be the old quarrel of France and England.”
No wonder I read Jane Eyre 4 times.