Obstinate, Headstrong Energy

Lessons from a stubborn literary heroine

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you truly love a book, you should probably have your favorite quote tattooed on your body.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but my relationship with Pride and Prejudice started when I was exactly the age my oldest daughter is now.

I still remember my first exposure to Pride and Prejudice. It was 1995, and the BBC Miniseries adaptation first aired on PBS. My mother and I watched it while my dad was away on a hunting trip. I was instantly in love.

I may not have quite realized it at age 10, but Elizabeth Bennett was my spirit animal. She is me: she’s witty, she’s funny, and she’s smart. She’s not the most beautiful woman, but she is a beauty, and her eyes are full of amusement at all around her (especially when portrayed by Jennifer Ehle in that BBC version - sorry, Keira Knightley fans!). But she’s also stubborn, opinionated, and very wrong about some important things throughout the novel.

She’s my favorite literary heroine because she’s so beautifully flawed.

She’s also so much fun.

After watching the miniseries so many times that the tapes (and later the DVDs) nearly wore out, I eventually picked up the novel itself. And once again, I was completely in love. Even now, decades after my first read, I reach for it every so often. It’s like visiting an old friend: familiar, comforting, and exactly as I remembered.

I was so enamored with Elizabeth Bennett and convinced that my personality mirrored hers that I wrote my college admission essay about the very topic! (Bold move, 17-year-old Amanda!).

17-year-old me was probably very literal in my essay, but looking back a few decades later, I still see where my vibe mirrors Elizabeth’s. And despite being twice Elizabeth’s age in the novel, the older I get, the more I lean in:

Elizabeth knows what she wants, and wanting more is not a character flaw. She doesn’t settle. She’s as ambitious as women are allowed to be in that era, but she’s also grounded in reality. She turns down a marriage proposal from Mr. Collins because she knows she can’t possibly live with the bumbling fool, even though it might be her only chance at marriage. But she would prefer a life as a spinster to a marriage to a man she didn’t respect.

She’s opinionated and rarely keeps those opinions to herself, but she’s also a keen observer. The descriptions of Elizabeth at the various balls are perfect: she’s perfectly happy standing back, watching the absurdity unfold, and quietly clocking everything. It’s a skill I’ve carried into adulthood, especially at cocktail parties, where I’m just as content observing the room as I am making conversation.

She doesn’t care much for what other people think of her. Is it unladylike to walk a few miles to visit her sister and arrive with her petticoats six inches deep in mud? Yes. But she did anyway because she wanted the fresh air and exercise. That’s 40 and Giving Zero F’s energy if I’ve ever seen it.

She’s a good judge of character, except when she isn’t (hello, George Wickham). She’s a bit of a flirt (hello again, Mr. Wickham). And she’s famously unimpressed with Mr. Darcy at first—until she realizes her first impression was wrong and falls for the one man in the novel who can actually keep up with her.

But perhaps my favorite Elizabeth moment in the whole novel is when Lady Catherine arrives to confirm whether Elizabeth is engaged to Mr. Darcy, voice her horror at the possibility of such a disgraceful union, and proceed to insult Elizabeth six ways to Sunday.

Elizabeth is polite, but she doesn’t sit back and take it. Finally, Lady Catherine is frustrated enough to cry, “Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you!”

And that quote stayed with me. I can think of no better compliment. If holding my head high when someone criticizes me, if choosing my own path when it’s unpopular, if refusing to settle for what the world insists should be “enough” means I’m an obstinate, headstrong girl—then I’ll wear that label proudly. I’ve earned it.

So about two years ago, I made it permanent. I had “Obstinate, headstrong girl!” tattooed on my back shoulder. Not as a rebellion, but as a reminder. A quiet declaration to myself that I don’t need to soften, shrink, or apologize for wanting what I want. That it’s okay to stand my ground, even when it makes other people uncomfortable.

This was definitely the first time the artist had tattooed a Jane Austen quote on someone

Because sometimes the stories that shape us don’t just live on our bookshelves. Sometimes they live in our choices. And if a stubborn, witty, beautifully flawed heroine from a 200-year-old novel helped me become more myself, then that feels like a truth universally worth acknowledging.