I was 15 years old when Greta Gerwig released her 2017 film “Lady Bird.” I watched it once when it first came out, and then again. And again. And again.
The film follows a Sacramento teenager, Lady Bird, in her last year of high school. Growing up in the suburbs of Arizona, “Lady Bird” felt electric and real. The movie emulated my own coming-of-age as a young woman navigating the tricky transition out of girlhood. I particularly connected to the mother-daughter relationship it portrayed.
My mom has worked as a nurse for nearly 16 years. She is deeply opinionated, resilient and, admittedly, a bit stubborn. During my senior year of high school, we used to butt heads over everything from college applications to spending too much time away from home. Like Lady Bird, my relationship with my mom was far more complex than I generally saw depicted in movies.
Now, in my senior year of college, “Lady Bird” doesn’t resonate the same way. Maybe it’s the result of growing up or not being as rebellious anymore, or maybe it’s simply because I miss my mom and call her every week. But, for some viewers, this movie never resonated in the first place.
While “Lady Bird” tackles issues around friendship, love and middle-class struggle, it seems to fall short of reality for many women. To put it plainly, the movie is overwhelmingly white.
On its own, this isn’t necessarily an issue. “Lady Bird” was inspired by Gerwig’s upbringing as a cisgender, white American woman. Perhaps telling Lady Bird’s story through the lens of her own personal experiences was inherently going to overlook minorities’ experiences.
However, the lack of diversity feels strange given that Sacramento was recognized as one of America’s most diverse cities in 2002, the same year that “Lady Bird” takes place. It also seems somewhat problematic for critics to characterize this film as a “universal” experience of girlhood while the movie excludes a majority of voices from its story.
So, what exactly would an intersectional “Lady Bird” look like?
Fifteen years prior to “Lady Bird,” Patricia Cardoso directed the comedy-drama “Real Women Have Curves,” about Ana García (America Ferrera), an 18-year-old Chicana girl living in East Los Angeles. The summer before she goes to college, Ana struggles with the expectations of her immigrant mother versus her own desire for independence.
“So, what exactly would an intersectional “Lady Bird” look like?”
The lead characters of both movies attend private high schools in California, aspire for colleges in New York and manage complicated relationships with their mothers. However, “Real Women Have Curves” delves deeper into the specific experience of being Latina and the constraints faced by daughters of immigrant parents.
Ana’s mother, Carmen, constantly pressures her to stay home and prioritize getting married over pursuing higher education. In addition, Ana feels a sense of obligation to contribute to her family’s financial situation by working in their sewing factory. Her determination to leave Los Angeles for college clashes with the family’s reliance on her labor, adding another layer of socioeconomic conflict that “Lady Bird” does not address.
Unlike “Lady Bird,” “Real Women Have Curves” also addresses the complex relationships that women have with their bodies, exploring themes of acceptance and radical positivity.
Near the film’s conclusion, Ana and the other women openly discuss body image and self-worth in the sewing factory. While her mother shames her for her weight, Ana confidently embraces her curves, challenging normative standards of beauty and the expectation that women must conform to a specific beauty standard.
While “Real Women Have Curves” explores similar themes to “Lady Bird” — sexuality, class and autonomy — it failed to garner the same level of mainstream recognition and critical acclaim as its successor. “Lady Bird” earned five Academy Award nominations, whereas “Real Women have Curves” received none, despite being equally deserving.
This isn’t a criticism of “Lady Bird” or Greta Gerwig. Rather, the disparity between the two films’ receptions highlights the systemic barriers within the entertainment industry that often overlook or dismiss stories that don’t feature predominantly white casts.
As we engage with media, we should always ask what perspectives are under-recognized, what we might be missing and how narratives cater to a white upper-class audience. We should challenge ourselves to seek out and show love to those lesser-known stories that have influenced cult classics like “Lady Bird.”
Anna Peterson SC ’25 is from Scottsdale, AZ. She studies politics, but spends her free time making Spotify playlists, writing Letterboxd reviews and drinking too much coffee.
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