Lee Suckling: Why I love strong women more than men

When it comes to role-playing via Xbox, I want to be Lara Croft, not a personality-devoid male soldier from Call Of Duty. Photo / AP

Watching Alicia Vikander in Tomb Raider this past weekend, I was again reminded that I'm obsessed with strong women. That grit! That attitude! Those abs!

I had equal reaction when I saw Jennifer Lawrence as a Russian spy in Red Sparrow. The same goes for Charlize Theron in Atomic Blonde and Gal Gadot in Wonder Woman.

The physical and emotional strength of these fictional women – not usually superheroes, per se, more like bad-ass chicks – is palpable. They land in a man's world, usually one powered by corruption and greed, and they kick butt.

They're not just as physically strong as men. They're stronger. That's what draws me to them the most, and why, since I was about 15, I've exclusively played video games with female protagonists.

When it comes to role-playing via Xbox, I want to be Lara Croft, not a personality-devoid male soldier from Call Of Duty. When I'm watching high-paced, visual-effects-driven revenge thrillers, I want to see the journey of The Bride from Kill Bill, not John Wick.

Yet there are some issues to address in the portrayal on strong women in modern action films and how they're potentially rooted in sexism.

More often that not, women's stories are told as origin stories whereby they begin weak, then experience some sort of trauma (in Tomb Raider it's her dad's death, in Red Sparrow, sexual violence).

Jennifer Lawrence in a scene from Red Sparrow. Photo / AP

It's only after that moment when they have been physically and emotionally compromised where they have a realisation: I must become strong now.

So they train, they learn hand-to-hand combat skills, they go to shooting ranges. Their male counterparts don't often have the same journey – though there are exceptions, e.g. Christian Bale's Batman and most Superman or Spiderman reboots.

Usually, men are strong and physically fit from the get-go. They need no makeover. The Transporter knew how to drive like a boss from minute one of his first film; Jason Bourne is highly skilled but doesn't even remember how or why.

It's generally accepted that men are already physically strong, while women need to learn how to be, and that's something to take issue with.

Then there's the male saviour problem, which is thankfully abating with new-wave strong women heroes. Historically, no matter how physically and mentally muscular a women is, she still seems to fall head-over-heels for a man and that compromises her abilities.

Tomb Raider and Atomic Blonde are welcome exceptions with no male love interest whatsoever – showing that – shock and horror – women don't need a man to take down evil. They can do it all by themselves, thank you very much.

While many could complain about the sexualisation of women protagonists in action roles, I do think nowadays we see the same with men. Indeed, Vikander and Theron and Gadot are lithe and lean and might get a bit of their kit off in a shower scene somewhere.

But so do male action heroes – whether it's Hugh Jackman or Tom Cruise – they are typified by square jaw lines and biceps and five per cent body fat. They are sexualised as the epitome of the male form too, and yes, the actors still have to get their naked buttocks out for the masses to ogle.

My love affair with strong screen women continues. I like that, in the most modern cases, they are always lone rangers: they don't need help from anybody else.

They are cooler than men. They are faster than men. And most importantly, they are smarter than men. Even as a man myself, they are who I want to be. How's that as a good step towards equal opportunity?