by Jess Kirby
Ever since I was 12, I wanted to be Bella. Then, people started comparing Edward to domestic abusers.
My well-used copy of Twilight that I simply had to bring with me to college.
My name is Jess Kirby, and I am a feminist. At the same time, I am in love with Edward Cullen.
As a 20-year-old female at a very liberal university, I’ve studied feminist theory and dating violence. I’ve heard horror stories about guys tracking their girlfriends and never letting them out of their sight. I’ve also experienced a toxic relationship or two.
As our country’s awareness of unhealthy relationships has seemingly grown in recent years, there has been a lot of criticism about the relationship between “Twilight” main characters Bella Swan and Edward Cullen. Throughout the series, Edward sneaks in Bella’s room at night to watch her sleep, secretly follows her on outings with her friends and stares at her from afar.
But none of that matters to me. This is the story of how I came to love “Twilight” anyway.
I caught a glimpse of the first movie when I was 12 years old, mindlessly flipping through the TV channels after school one day. From the moment I saw Edward and Bella lying in the meadow, with grass tinted blue by the iconic filter featured in the movie, I was intrigued. I sat there in awe, my eyes raw from blinking so infrequently.
What first hooked me on the series wasn’t Edward’s golden eyes or charming voice, it was Bella herself. I saw her long brown hair and dark eyes and immediately thought she was beautiful. But it wasn’t just her appearance, either. As I watched the movies and eventually read the books, I related to Bella in a way that I hadn’t related to anyone else, fictional or real.
She understood my awkwardness when meeting new people, my ineptitude in gym class and my longing to be myself no matter what others thought. She allowed me to be more accepting of the things I didn’t like about myself and brought out the qualities I did like.
I dyed my blonde hair brown and grew it out, hoping to bear a passing resemblance to her. I wore my sisters’ old, early 2000s American Eagle clothes, mimicking her outfits from the movies. I started saying Bella’s random lines like “I’m really the more suffer in silence type” and “Ice doesn’t help the uncoordinated.” I wanted to be Bella.
One day when I was in middle school, my friend, who I thought loved the “Twilight” series as unconditionally and irrevocably as I did, sent me a meme making fun of the first movie. I don’t even remember the context, only that it made me feel furious and betrayed. How could she insult one of my favorite things in the whole world? My friend was able to both like “Twilight” and make fun of it. I wasn’t ready for that.
As time went on, I realized that most people didn’t share my adoration. I became self-conscious about my favorite series and buried it within myself where no one could see. I couldn’t stand to hear people criticize it, or more specifically, Bella. That was, until I was in college years later and I was eventually able to see the “Twilight.”
My roommate Lauryn and I, both initially hesitant to talk about our unironic love for “Twilight” for fear of judgment, bonded over Stephenie Meyer’s masterpiece. We both loved it. We talked about the books and movies together and hosted “Twilight” movie marathons.
But as we sat up late one evening, we discussed the unhealthy aspects of Edward and Bella’s relationship. For instance, when Edward leaves Bella in one of the sequels, “New Moon,” he destroys all evidence of himself and moves his entire family away. Bella enters a depressive episode and begins to think she’s crazy because there’s not a single trace of him left behind. She has reoccurring nightmares of the dark forest Edward left her in, and she isolates herself from everyone around her.
It wasn’t until I talked to Lauryn that I realized Bella was exhibiting symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. But then, I didn’t know how to feel. I started feeling shaken up inside myself. I’d grown up reading a story where the male love interest stalks and frequently invades the privacy of his female lover, and she praises him for it. Then he leaves, and it destroys her. What other harmful lessons had I internalized from “Twilight” over the years?
I wasn’t sure what to do about my love for Twilight once I saw the truth, though. I still ignored criticisms about “Twilight.” Now that I saw the problems, I pushed against the idea that I had to hate it. I still continued to avoid talking about it with most people. But then, during the Covid-19 pandemic, “Twilight” reemerged as the series people love to hate on. Following Stephenie Meyer’s release of “Midnight Sun,” the original “Twilight” story but instead written from Edward’s perspective, all of the movies became available on Netflix.
Once I read “Midnight Sun,” I went right back to being that giddy 12-year-old. I got to meet Bella through Edward’s eyes and fall in love with the series all over again. In the meantime, videos about it blew up on TikTok and other social media sites, most of them making fun of the saga. But something different happened this time. Instead of getting defensive, I was able to laugh at most of the “Twilight” memes and videos while still appreciating the saga.
I also realized that certain lines from the movies, many of which aren’t even in the books, are ridiculous. In one scene of the first movie, Edward says to Bella, “You better hold on tight, spider monkey.” Who would write something like that into a script? Even I cringe now, but it’s just one of the quirks in the series that I’ve come to adore. Once I gained the ability to laugh at my favorite series, my love for it grew even more. I was able to appreciate the silly aspects of it and have a more objective view.
When thinking about all the criticism “Twilight” has faced for its glorification of an unhealthy relationship, I realized just how reactionary that mindset is. Many believe that children should not experience the series when they’re younger, or even in high school, because they don’t want it to be a bad influence on them. However, those people don’t give their kids and teenagers enough credit. Even though 12-year-old me thought Edward and Bella’s relationship was a captivating, dangerous, endearing love story, I still recognized it as fiction.
If a man were to watch me sleep and follow me everywhere in real life, I would have enough common sense to recognize that as a threat, not a romance. If every romance or book we read was perfectly polite and safe, we would be bored out of our minds. And fiction gives us a way to enjoy secretive darker impulses without giving into them in real life. That’s why it’s called a fantasy.
Growing up obsessed with “Twilight” and Bella Swan shaped me as a person and continues to do so. I still reread the series, dig out the Bella outfits I used to wear in middle school, dye my hair darker in the fall and dress like her for Halloween. I admire her selflessness and unwavering genuineness, and I continue trying to be more like her in those ways.
Recently, I hosted another movie marathon with Lauryn and our friends. Our living room was full of people with various opinions about “Twilight;” some had never seen the series, others hated it and many of us were not afraid to proclaim that we loved it.
We had many laughs that night, as I quoted scenes word-for-word and sang along to the soundtrack. We even made a group chat, sent each other “Twilight” memes and made plans to watch the rest of the movies together. Throughout the evening, we shared many of our controversial opinions.
“Bella has more sexual tension with Carlisle in this scene than she does with Edward in the entire series,” my friend Josie explained.
“Get out,” I said, only half joking, pointing to the door. I guess I’m still protective of my favorite fictional couple.