At The Cascade, we’re celebrating International Women’s Day not just with a kickass media care package, but with a top-tier heroine list crafted by my very own top-tier heroine: my mom. Indeed, yours truly spent an entire afternoon talking with their mother to gather the legendary women who have inspired her movie-and-show-loving heart to keep going in a world that still makes her fight harder than she should.
Sarah Connor — The Terminator (1984)
In my mother’s words, Sarah Connor is the one who hurts to watch. She was one of her idols growing up, and the only reason she isn’t higher on this list is her strained relationship with her son, John. In trying to make him strong, she pushes him away, sacrificing tenderness for survival. My mother recognizes that instinct: the pressure to hold everything together, the struggle to show affection, the belief that pain is something you carry alone. Sarah is strong, but the price is steep. Still, her resilience remains unmatched — and my mom honours that.
“No fate but what we make.”
Sidney Prescott — Scream (1996)
Sidney is the fierce yet empathetic horror heroine. She’s traumatized, distrustful, scared — and still lets people in. My mother connects with her because she never pretends bravery is easy. She survives without losing her humanity. The ultimate final girl, still carrying this stellar franchise 30 years later.
“You want me motherfucker? Come and get me.”
Adora/She-Ra — She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018-2020)
Adora never asked for the weight of the world, yet carries it all the same. She gives up her own desires for the greater good, until she finally begins to question the destiny forced onto her — pushing back against it, and learning to let go of it. She has a habit of taking everything on herself, but slowly unlearns that instinct by leaning into the connections she’s built and cherishes most. My mother is drawn to the friendships, the loyalty, the chosen?family devotion Adora protects so fiercely, a reminder that power and expectation were never the point — love is.
“Let’s do this. Together.”
Imperator Furiosa — Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)
Furiosa is liberation in motion. She protects the vulnerable, carves open a future for them, and refuses to let suffering make her cruel. My mother sees in her that warrior’s instinct to fight for other women, to guarantee them the freedom they were denied. In her, mom recognizes the echo of women’s past struggles, the weight of our present ones, and the warning flare of a future threatened by rising conservatism — yet also the enduring hope that from oppression a heroine will rise.
“You wanna get through this? Do as I say.”
Buffy Summers — Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003)
Buffy is the teenager who gives up her youth for a world that rarely acknowledges the cost. She trains, she fights, she protects, and she keeps going even when the weight of it all threatens to pull her under. My mother holds her close because she deserves joy — and still chooses duty. Buffy proves that being young and being heroic are not mutually exclusive. She’s imperfect, like all of us, but she doesn’t stop trying and never will.
“If the apocalypse comes in, beep me!”
Alice — Resident Evil (2002)
Alice is the woman who tries to isolate herself and fails beautifully. My mother loves her realism (despite being in a zombie apocalypse) — the exhaustion, the grit, the instinct to protect others even when she’s certain she shouldn’t. She’s a survivor who still believes in community, who knows she could make it alone but chooses to meet people where they are and lift them up. No one gets left behind.
“I’m not on the menu.”
Ellen Ripley — Alien (1979)
There is no one like Ripley in my mom’s eyes. She’s the blueprint of her heroines — smart, furious, utterly badass. Ripley doesn’t wait for rescue — she is the rescue. She can be terrified of what’s ahead (who wouldn’t be?), but never in a way that keeps her from risking everything for the people she loves — not that we doubt her endless ability to outsmart an entire species of nightmare biology. If strength had a face, for my mother, it would be Ripley’s.
“Get away from her, you bitch!”
My mom grew up believing that strength wasn’t an innate “feminine” trait — a cliché shaped by stories of princesses waiting to be rescued, a narrative that has harmed us for generations.
These heroines validated her hope in everything she could become on her own. They were proof that women can be complex, powerful, sensitive, and self-sufficient. You don’t have to lose your fragility or sensitivity to be a hero, nor conform to a construct. Sometimes, the refusal to obey, perform, give up — is an act of empowerment in itself.
