Why Sansa Stark Matters By Lily Harding
T
o the general public in the year 2021, the mention of Sansa Stark conjures up feelings of disappointment and bitterness associated with the wasted potential of the Game of Thrones TV series. After the infamous train wreck of the HBO show’s final season, many of the characters, their arcs and the emotional connection audiences had with them, faded into a depressing obscurity. Sansa Stark, one of my favourite characters of both the books and the show, was also a victim of this fate with most fans left ambivalent on Sansa’s final accession to the Northern throne. Two years since the 2019 finale and ten years since the show’s beginning, I want to celebrate what both versions of Sansa mean to me, and how George RR Martin, in a story so often critiqued for the exploitation of its female characters, created a relevant and deeply empathetic feminist narrative. I also want to explore how the choices the television show made in concluding Sansa’s arc detract from such a personally valuable part of A Song of Ice and Fire. At the beginning of both the TV show and the books, Sansa is a character that is easily (though reductively) disregarded as an irritation. The eldest daughter of the Stark siblings, she is raised on the expectation that her life will revolve around who she is eventually betrothed to; societal norms she fully embraces, excelling in courtly manners, dressmaking and singing as well as being naturally pretty. It is this aptitude for the role society expects her to play that initially turns a lot of people off of Sansa, especially in comparison to her much more accessibly empathetic sister, Arya, characterised as Sansa’s polar opposite. Arya is not cut out for the lifestyle of a Westerosi Lady, where her sister dreams of being the princess in a courtly romance, Arya dreams of knighthood, even taking up sword fighting lessons during the Starks’ stay in King’s
Landing. As a result, Arya is eminently more likeable from the outset, resembling the archetype of the rebellious young woman that has become so popular in recent young adult fiction. Conversely, the fact that Sansa never once feels out of place and is popular among her teachers and peers removes her somewhat from the growing pains many experience in childhood, which often makes Arya’s chapters far more relatable. Further fodder for the audience’s dislike of Sansa is her involvement in the death of the innocent butcher’s boy Mycah, Arya’s friend and playmate on the road to King’s Landing. Sansa and her betrothed, the handsome but sadistic prince Joffrey, come upon Arya and Mycah playing near the ruby ford where Joffrey threatens the boy with his sword,
WARNING = SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1 TO 8 OF ‘GAME OF THRONES’ + THE ENTIRETY OF A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE, TRIGGER WARNING FOR DISCUSSIONS OF RAPE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT 20
