[dropcap style=”light” size=”4″]M[/dropcap]y brother disagrees with me, but a six-year-old should not have watched the original trilogy of “Star Wars.” For a person who still had slight trouble distinguishing reality from fiction, it was quite terrifying to think that Jabba the Hutt was lying around the corner of the walkway, or that stormtroopers would march down the hallways of my school and demand students pledge allegiance to the Empire.
I wasn’t too worried, though. Princess Leia faced the same thing, right? And she came out unscathed; I could do it, too.
Carrie Fisher’s portrayal of Princess Leia differed from the standard, accepted view of princesses in movies. Princesses stayed in a hightower in the middle of a lake of lava, waiting for their prince charming to come save them from the vicious dragon. Princesses didn’t grab their rescuers’ guns, shoot at their enemies and demand to do things their way.
Princesses were supposed to be damsels in distress, not damsels who saved themselves in distress. Princesses were supposed to be quiet, polite and obey orders. Princesses certainly did not name-call their companions “scruffy,” or handle a gun just as well as any other member of the Republic or become military generals.
Princess Leia represented something bigger than her. She was a bold, loudmouthed woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to do what was necessary to get it — traits women, and especially princesses, weren’t supposed to have. I grew up with the expectation that I should know my place in the room, that I should only speak when spoken to and basically that I shouldn’t have any of the traits Leia had. But, she gave me hope to be like her.
As I grew older, I mostly forgot about “Star Wars.” It was a great facet of my childhood, and Leia influenced me to not act the part of the quiet Indian girl; however, the franchise was merely a footnote in my life until the release of “Star Wars: The Force Awakens.” By that time, I no longer saw Fisher as just Leia — I saw her. It wasn’t until that movie that I heard of what Fisher went through — the bipolar disorder, the drug addiction and the treatment of actresses in Hollywood.
What inspires me most about Fisher is that she never shrank away from it. She talked about all the struggles she faced in her various interviews in great detail and never backed down. She became for many people, including myself, a role model, for she helped to break the stigma around mental illness and addiction.
Fisher helped myself and so many others come to terms with their illnesses through tearing down the stigma. She helped normalize the discussion around it and gave people strength to keep the dialogue going. She even consistently brought her service dog, Gary, to events, forcing the world to see the need and value for service dogs to those who need them.
Yesterday, the world lost their princess, their general and their role model. We lost an amazing, outspoken woman who lived her life to her own terms, not those dictated by anyone else. She was unapologetically herself, all the good and all the bad combined, and never shied away from any part.
I spent much of yesterday mourning Fisher; she had so much left in her life. She had a mother and a daughter and more “Star Wars” movies to make and so much else that life tends to throw at people. I didn’t expect life to throw death at her.
Maybe that’s the point, though. Fisher was as familiar with death as any person with a mental illness or addiction is. Regardless of what her final thoughts were, she lived a fulfilling life, and helped so many people be who they were without shame or fear.
To truly honor her memory, may all of us never apologize again for the ugly parts of ourselves, the parts that people tell us to get over or shame us for. I am a girl who suffers from depression and anxiety — and thanks to people like Fisher, that sentence isn’t hard to write anymore. While 2016 took Fisher away from the world, may we take her spirit, boldness and defiant personality with us into 2017 to become the people we can be.
And to Fisher, wherever you are now … may the force be with you.
Let us know below how you’ve felt since Fisher’s passing.