I was late to love Princess Leia. Star Wars was not a huge phenomenon in my house growing up - it was something I discovered later in life, when I was already aware of the legacy of both those epic, operatic space stories – and of the actress Carrie Fisher. And while I know many people loved Leia first and Fisher second, for me it was the opposite.
Knowing about Fisher's hilariously blunt persona, her stigma-bashing outspokenness about mental health, her searing critiques of Hollywood's sexism and ageism, in my mind, Fisher was already a radical rebel warrior queen before I saw her onscreen with that famous hairdo.
For me, Fisher wasn't iconic because she played Princess Leia. Princess Leia was iconic because she was played by Carrie Goddamn Fisher.
In a world where so many actresses are reduced to their looks and forgotten as they age, where the media delights in the mental illness of young starlets and mercilessly stalks them, waiting for them to crumble, Fisher was a shining beacon for feminist women everywhere. Constantly at war with the sexist forces around her, she taught us how to dismantle misogyny and objectification with the lightsaber that was her own razorsharp tongue, her intelligence, her wit. It's easy to forget that as well as playing sci-fi's most beloved Princess, Fisher was also an accomplished writer, penning emotive memoirs and semi-autobiogrpahical novels about addiction and mental illness, like Postcards From The Edge and Wishful Drinking. She also used her writing talents as a script doctor, adding charm and wit to the scripts like Hook, Lethal Weapon 3, The Wedding Singer, Sister Act and Blues Brothers.
Even while heralded as that beautiful bikini-clad combatant, Fisher taught women that their brains were their real power. She raged against women being judged and valued on their looks, demanding that society show more empathy, more depth, more humanity.
"We treat beauty like an accomplishment, and that is insane," she said. "Everyone in LA says, 'Oh you look good,' and you listen for them to say you've lost weight. It's never 'How are you?' or 'You seem happy!'"
While Leia was known for delivering one of cinema's greatest burns, calling Han Solo a "stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerfherder," Fisher aimed her accurate insults at larger targets: sexism and shame. Putting down an arrogant man was the action of a Princess; critiquing a society built for the comfort of men is the action of a Queen.
Or a General. To me, Fisher's role as General Organa was instantly more impactful as her role as Princess Leia. Here was a woman who had survived. Who had lost so much but kept fighting, not for herself, but so others could have a better life. Who was stronger than the men around her, who kept going when they didn't. Who kept the rebellion going through the skill and competence and strength earned by age and wisdom. Who has been changed by her loss and struggles but not defeated. Never defeated.
That was Carrie Goddamn Fisher.
In all areas of her life, Fisher refused to be victim. Speaking of her experiences with bipolar disorder, our rebel leader was always quick to dismantle the idea that people who have mental health issues are weak. She eschewed the usual discourse of "struggling" with mental illness, and defied the social stigma of taking anti-depressants and medications. In true General Organa fashion, she spoke of living with bipolar as a feat of courage and strength.
"In my opinion, living with manic depression takes a tremendous amount of balls. Not unlike a tour of Afghanistan, (though the bombs and bullets, in this case, come from the inside). At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you're living with this illness and functioning at all, it's something to be proud of, not ashamed of. They should issue medals along with the steady stream of medication."
Fisher was one woman who encouraged an army of young women with mental illness to speak out about their experiences, to express themselves in order to find each other and build community, to weaponise their voices in order to fight off stigma and shame. At a time when it is still taboo to "admit" you take medications for mental illness, Fisher spoke openly not just about anti-depressants, but all forms of therapy, and electroconvulsive therapy – a form of treatment so often represented as a barbaric torture method in cinema, when it's actually a very effective form of treatment for many – Fisher included.
She also, in returning to the Star Wars franchise, spoke out about being criticised for aging – by definition, being criticised for having survived this long. Addressing the media who had been focusing on her appearance during the press for Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Fisher said "Please stop debating about whether or not I've aged well. Unfortunately it hurts all 3 of my feelings. My body hasn't aged as well as I have." She concluded, in perfect warrior fashion, "A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, someone else might have given a fuck."
There's something particularly poignant about losing Fisher this year. In a year where we've lost artists like Prince and Bowie, gender-bending artists who embraced everyone, we've lost another icon to opinionated, misfit, outspoken, rebellious girls and women everywhere.
But losing Fisher also feels larger than that, more epic, more meaningful. In a year where fascist reigns are on the rise, when already oppressed and silenced populations are under attack, when the term "alien" is being used as an excuse for violence, when the world seems to be falling under a spell of fear and xenophobia, and when a woman leader was defeated by the most monstrous fascist the free world has seen in eons, losing Fisher feels like a loss on a cosmic scale.
Unless we live up to her legacy. Embrace our rebel warrior powers, unite with empathy and intelligence and a desire to be outspoken, and authentic, and honest in the hope to improve this tiny planet of ours.
Let us recognise the power that Carrie Fisher yielded, and try to embody it ourselves. Her skills, her bravery, her perseverance.
The Star Wars characters may have used the Force, but Carrie Fisher was a force, in and of herself.
Let's be forces ourselves, and do her proud.