Gender Bias in Literature: The “Men Written by Women” Epidemic

While it might not be as obvious as McDonald’s “girl toy” and “boy toy” options, it’s no secret that media has a starring role in rehashing gender norms and stereotypes. From the stoic action hero who solves problems with his fists to the nurturing mother figure who sacrifices everything for her family, these archetypes create a blueprint for how men and women are “supposed” to behave. Literature has long been guilty of reproducing these character tropes, often depicting men as emotionally unavailable, while women are defined by their emotional labour. 

This dynamic doesn’t just shape how characters are written—it shapes how we, as readers, interpret them. When a male character displays vulnerability or emotional depth, readers are quick to attribute this to the “female touch” of a woman author. Why do we assume emotional maturity belongs exclusively to femininity? 

Different social environments foster different experiences. An individual’s experiences will undoubtedly shape their personality, values, and how they interact with the world. For creatives, their art often reflects their lives. Authors, particularly, tend to write about things they are familiar with. Whether it is intentionally used or more of a subconscious bias, personal experience and opinion will guide their work. 

This is when characterization comes into play. Any text, especially fiction and creative writing, can feel genuine if it is written by someone with similar experiences. For example, a female character written by a female author might include more nuance and detail in specific areas, something that can only be meaningfully expressed by a writer who has experienced these things themselves. 

Picture this: the main character had a rough day, so her boyfriend bought her chocolate. This scene must have been written by a woman because of its emotional theme and tender-hearted male lead. Surely, no male author could fathom the concept of a boyfriend expressing care through something as nuanced as chocolate. 

Jokes aside, this speaks to the subtle biases we hold as readers. When we encounter a male character with emotional depth, our first instinct is often to credit the writer’s gender. It’s as if compassion and vulnerability are trade secrets that only women have access to. This not only reduces authorship to a matter of gender but also reinforces the stereotypes we claim to be moving past. 

To be “written by a woman” is to exude traits that are stereotypically associated with femininity— being nurturing, thoughtful, and most of all, emotionally intelligent. On the surface, this seems like a compliment. At the root of it, however, attributing emotional security to being womanlike implies that being masculine and showing emotion are mutually exclusive. These assumptions cut both ways, boxing women into the role of emotional caretakers while distancing men from the same qualities. This is where the concept of “men written by women” steps in, furthering these stereotypes under the guise of praise. 

“Men written by women” inherently recycles the gender norms and stereotypes perpetuated by society. It encourages the idea that traits of emotional maturity will always be at the hands of women and femininity, and cautions men to identify with anything other than stereotypical masculinity. 

However, a male character created by a female author is not necessarily destined to take on this role. My favourite example of this is in Colleen Hoover’s It Ends With Us, which documents a woman’s experience in an abusive relationship. Ryle, the male lead, checks all of the boxes one would want in a partner: handsome, charming, ready to put their hands around your neck if they have a bad day at work…the list goes on. 

It goes without saying that Ryle isn’t the cookie-cutter version of a man written by a woman. His character shows that male leads written by women aren’t always pillars of emotional maturity; sometimes, they’re deeply flawed, even dangerous. This complicates the idea that women write men in a singular, emotion-driven way, highlighting how reductive it is to frame women’s writing solely through the lens of emotion. The trope of being “written by a woman” doesn’t just pigeonhole men as either emotionally stunted or emotionally perfect—it also reinforces the stereotype that women are defined by their capacity for feeling, as though their writing is confined to emotional narratives and nothing more. 

When we view authorship only from the perspective of gender, we risk stripping stories of their complexity and reducing characters to stereotypes. Emotional depth is not inherently feminine, just as stoicism is not inherently masculine. Fiction, in its best form, creates room for nuance where men can cry and women can rage, and where stories can unfold without the weight of societal expectations.