The Embodiment of Charity: Morality in Stargirl

The stuff of fairytales, fables, legends, and even young adult novels is very heavy-handed in moral teaching, but it is written beautifully. It’s digestible. Something so abstract as morality becomes tangible. That’s what I knew after reading Stargirl. This and other forms of children’s media make goodness and perfection a possibility, and because they are possible, they are real. The book is marketed as a novel about non-conformity, but the book is really about charity, and that’s what makes it a moral tale.

In a non-jeering way, Stargirl is a saint. She does good without being asked, and, more importantly, not expecting anything in return. She hopes that she will make people happy, but when she can’t (Wayne Parr and Hillari what’s-her-name), she realizes she must press forward and continue to be happy because she can’t help everyone, but she can help some of them. Speaking in LDS terms, she’s very concerned with the “one.” Like the man on the bench her and Leo passed on their walks. We don’t worry about “How does she have time for all this?” She makes time for it because it’s a priority, or more accurately, goodness is a part of her.

Although she is a fictional character, she is situated in a believable world. She is in a high school, typical of the ones readers attended. She is unbelievable in her sphere, but the other characters confirm her authenticity. Archie, the philosophizing paleontologist, often talks about how she is more in touch with her real and original self than anyone else. Because she operates in a familiar world, we can relate better to her and to the story. The audience can apply her characteristics in their domain. It makes it possible to see that we, too, can be charitable and aware of those around us.

Characteristic of children’s media, the morals presented in Stargirl are “black and white.” The other students are clearly portrayed as being in the wrong because they oppose this purely selfless and charitable character. This didactic element helps readers recognize what the author intends for them to learn.

There is also a tale of redemption within the story of Stargirl. Her friend and first love, Leo, is the gray character that displays both good and bad and is trying to find his place in the world. The most heartbreaking and moral-telling moment occurs as the Ukee Dooks perform in the courtyard. Leo reflects, “I knew what I should do.” But he doesn’t do it. In this sense there is no redemption. He will be forever stuck with the regret of choosing “them” over Stargirl. Most readers can relate to knowing the right thing to do and not following through with it at some point in their lives. This is why stories like this are written. We need to be reminded constantly and re-awaken the moral root within us because our amoral selves are at battle with our innate goodness.

He never gets to be with Stargirl again, but he has learned from the experience. He becomes a better person—a more aware person—and that is his redemption. “When I see change on the sidewalk, I leave it there. If no one’s looking, I drop a quarter. I feel guilty when I buy a card from Hallmark. I listen for mockingbirds” (p. 185).

This duality in regret and redemption is comparable to the different versions of Red Riding Hood. In the original, she is eaten. There is no repentance or forgiveness. The child (or whoever the audience may be) learns not to trust wolves, or, in the case of Stargirl, after realizing that Leo will never again see Stargirl, the teenager learns to embrace goodness and emulate it when he or she comes into contact with it. They also learn to embrace people for who they are and not be ashamed of the judgments of others. In the later version, Red Riding Hood gets away. Leo starts seeing the world around him as does the audience vicariously.

The ultimate moral of this story and many other children’s tales is the second great commandment—to love others in a way that rids division. Although Stargirl is different and they have segregated her out from among them, this division is invisible to her. That is why she is such a morally strong character.  She reaches the epitome of selflessness—maybe the crowing jewel of morality? “I never saw her look in a mirror, never heard her complain. All of her feelings, all of her attentions flowed outward. She had no ego” (p. 53). The clear presentation of right and wrong, and the relatable characters make Stargirl a prime learning tool of morality to teach children to put others first at a time in their development when all they tend to see is themselves.