Miranda Levi

After years of successfully dodging every single spoiler for Game of Thrones, I finally dove into the series with my husband over the past few weeks. Now that I’ve emerged from this epic binge-watching experience, I have some thoughts. Be warned—spoilers and likely unpopular opinion’s ahead.

First of all, does George R.R. Martin hate women? The rampant sexual violence and incest are beyond disturbing. Rape seems to be a casual plot device, and the normalization of incest is just plain unsettling. Is this really necessary to tell a compelling story? It feels like a cheap way to shock viewers and keep them hooked, but at what cost?

Take Sansa Stark, for instance. From the very first season, she is portrayed as a power-hungry, manipulative character. While she experiences some growth, it’s minimal. She remains irritatingly consistent in her ambition without truly evolving as a character. Where is the meaningful development? As a viewer, I longed to see her rise above her initial flaws and emerge as a multi-dimensional figure. Instead, we get a slight arc that leaves much to be desired.

On the other hand, Arya Stark is a beacon of character development. Her journey is the epitome of what a character arc should be. Arya transforms from a feisty young girl into a formidable warrior with a strong moral compass. Her growth is absolutely chef’s kiss. However, the ultimate disappointment comes when Arya is denied the chance to kill Cersei. Arya’s entire narrative seemed to build towards this climactic moment, yet it’s taken away, leaving a bitter taste.

Speaking of Cersei, let’s call her what she is—a manipulative, power-crazed villain. Her character is the embodiment of ruthless ambition, and I couldn’t help but loathe her. But loathing her didn’t mean I wasn’t invested in her story. Cersei is a complex character, and I appreciated the layers of her evil, even if it made my skin crawl.

Now, let’s talk about Joffrey Baratheon. Watching him die was cathartic. I replayed that scene twice because his demise felt like a well-deserved justice. Joffrey was a monstrous tyrant, and his death was a rare moment of satisfaction in a show that often denies viewers such relief.

But here’s where the real frustration lies—Daenerys Targaryen. For seven seasons, we watched her grow into a powerful, compassionate leader, the Breaker of Chains. She was the embodiment of hope for a better world, tirelessly freeing slaves and striving for justice. Then, in the final episodes, her character is abruptly and nonsensically twisted. Why? Because a man didn’t love her enough? It’s infuriating to see her entire arc reduced to a woman scorned, leading her to torch an entire city. This drastic shift was utterly out of character and felt like a betrayal. It seemed like the writers couldn’t allow a strong woman to remain strong and just had to bring her down so a man could ascend to power.

Jon Snow’s character arc was equally frustrating. From his humble beginnings as a bastard at Winterfell to becoming the King in the North, Jon’s journey was about honor and loyalty. Yet, in the end, he was reduced to a pawn in the political game, ultimately killing Daenerys to restore order. His character, who once represented the possibility of breaking the cycle of power and violence, ended up reinforcing it. His tragic love story with Ygritte and his unwavering sense of duty were overshadowed by the unsatisfying conclusion to his arc.

Tyrion Lannister, however, was a rare bright spot. His sharp wit, intelligence, and complex moral compass made him a standout character. Tyrion’s growth from a hedonistic outcast to a key player in the fight for the realm was one of the series’ most compelling transformations. He faced immense personal trials and constantly battled the prejudice against him due to his stature, yet he persevered with a combination of cleverness and compassion. Tyrion’s journey was a testament to resilience and intellect overcoming societal bias.

The show’s treatment of female characters extended beyond the main players. Characters like Margaery Tyrell, Ygritte, Missandei, Shae, Brienne of Tarth, Gilly, and Yara Greyjoy each had significant roles but were often sidelined or met with grim fates. Margaery’s political acumen was snuffed out abruptly, Ygritte’s fierce independence was cut short by a tragic death, and Missandei’s intelligence and loyalty ended with a senseless execution. Shae’s betrayal and murder, Brienne’s undervalued strength, Gilly’s survival against all odds, and Yara’s struggle for her rightful place highlight a pattern of women facing undue hardship and minimal recognition.

Brienne of Tarth’s conclusion was particularly infuriating. Brienne, the first female knight of the Seven Kingdoms, a character who embodied strength, honor, and loyalty, was reduced to writing Jaime Lannister’s accomplishments in the Book of Brothers. This is the same Jaime who betrayed her trust and left her heartbroken. Why wasn’t Brienne writing her own name in that book? Where were her accomplishments? Brienne’s journey was one of the most inspiring, yet in the end, she was left chronicling the deeds of a man. This scene epitomized the show’s problematic tendency to sideline women’s achievements in favor of highlighting men’s.

Moreover, the portrayal of Melisandre, the Red Woman, as the only prominent “witch” character, reinforces problematic stereotypes. She is depicted as a manipulative, often evil figure, her magical powers bringing more harm than good. In contrast, male characters like Beric Dondarrion, who also possess supernatural abilities, are portrayed more favorably. This dichotomy perpetuates the age-old trope of the “evil witch,” undermining the narrative potential for nuanced female characters with magical abilities.

Every time a character tries to do good or strive for a better world, they’re met with death or downfall. What kind of message does that send? It’s disheartening to see such a grim portrayal of morality and justice, especially when it’s the strong female characters who bear the brunt of this narrative brutality.

Game of Thrones is undoubtedly a compelling series, but its treatment of women is deeply problematic. The persistent theme of tearing down strong women to elevate men is tiresome and regressive. It’s a stark reminder of the pervasive issues in storytelling that continue to undermine female empowerment. As viewers, we deserve better. Strong, complex female characters should be celebrated, not torn apart for shock value or plot convenience.

Here’s to hoping for a future in storytelling where women are portrayed with the depth, respect, and consistency they deserve.