My first fan-crush was Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman, whom I apparently referred to as Wondee Woman while spinning in front of the TV until I fell over. While Ms. Diana Prince’s supernatural qualities weren’t related to science, my love for all things fantastical then led me to be absolutely obsessed with Luke Skywalker in the original Star Wars movie.
Yes, EverAfter friends, I’m one of those. Team Luke instead of Team Han. Had the 12 inch Luke Skywalker action figure, too, who was ALWAYS my doll’s boyfriend when we played Barbie Explores Lost Treasure Island or Captain Barbie Versus the Ravening Stuffed Animal Space Horde. Maybe it was that rope Luke used to swing himself and Princess Leia to safety in the Death Star—reminded me a bit of the golden lasso of truth. Not to mention the kiss that the princess gave Luke for luck right before the Big Swing was about as much sexuality as my 9 year old brain was equipped to contemplate.
Han was funny, sure, and did the right thing in the end, but I admired Luke for doing the right thing, or trying to, from the beginning. To me it spoke of his innate goodness. Also I admired how cute he was, and that 9 year old brain which couldn’t contemplate anything stronger than a peck on the cheek didn’t register Luke’s naiveté and teenaged angst as annoying.