How The Stranger Things Finale Betrays The Show's Most Important Character

This article contains major spoilers for the "Stranger Things" series finale.

When "Stranger Things" debuted in 2016, it's doubtful that Netflix or the Duffer Brothers anticipated the worldwide phenomenon the show would become. The advent of streaming had effectively kneecapped the monoculture, but "Stranger Things" was proof positive that with a compelling story and characters for the audience to care about, streaming had the capacity to shape cultural conversations. And a major contributor to that explosion in popularity was how quickly people grew attached to Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown), the little girl with otherworldly powers and a love of Eggo waffles.

But like the telekinetic women who came before her (Carrie White in "Carrie" and Matilda Wormwood in "Matilda"), Eleven's story is rooted in tragedy and abuse. Born Jane Ives, her powers were the result of her mother being treated as an MKUltra experiment during pregnancy. Jane was then kidnapped after her birth and spent her formative years being experimented on at Hawkins National Laboratory while being denied access to the outside world. Even after she escaped from the lab, she was continually hunted by the U.S. government, forced to save humanity from the nightmarish creatures of the Upside Down, and never knew a moment of peace. This is why the decision to have her sacrifice herself (seemingly permanently) in the finale is such a betrayal of the character.

Show co-creator Ross Duffer told Netflix, "She represents magic in a lot of ways and the magic of childhood. For our characters to move on and for the story of Hawkins and the Upside Down to come to a close, Eleven had to go away." This line gives away the game. How can you treat a character like a human when you're too busy treating her like a plot device?

"Life has been so unfair to you," Jim Hopper (David Harbour), Jane's surrogate father, says when he learns of her plan to sacrifice herself to save the world. These are powerful words coming from the only father figure who hasn't dedicated his life to torturing her, but they feel hollow when they serve as the prelude to yet another instance of a young woman sacrificing herself so the rest of the world can go back to normal. It's bad enough that it happens in fictional stories, but this requirement of self-sacrifice is deeply rooted in the real-life societal expectations of women. No amount of Jane/Eleven evoking the name of Hopper's daughter, who died of cancer by saying, "She didn't have a choice to make, but I do," suddenly makes her decision to die for the greater good one rooted in autonomy. Because Jane/Eleven doesn't actually have a choice here.

The implication is that without her sacrifice, the U.S. government would have continued to hunt her and her friends forever, which is ... a possibility, sure, but it's also logic that fails to remember that this is a show about alternate dimensions, wormholes, and children who can flip cars with their minds. Nothing about "Stranger Things" is rooted in reality. There were so many avenues for this show to take that allowed for all of the characters to have a happy ending and move beyond the last few years without it needing to be at the expense of Jane/Eleven continuing to be exiled and forced to navigate the world all alone. Instead, a young woman who has only ever known suffering, isolation, and manipulation willingly gives up a family and community that loves her under the guise of "breaking the cycle."

Jane/Eleven's life has been defined by secrecy and suffering from the moment she was born, and when she eventually found safety, family, and belonging, the narrative stripped it all away again with the failsafe "It's my choice" line tossed in to silence anyone who has an issue with it. Forcing her to break the cycle with her life allows those who put her in it in the first place (namely, the government) to skirt all accountability for what they've done and the harm they've caused. This kind of ending suggests that the only way she can escape institutional and governmental control is by removing herself entirely. The writing desperately tries to frame her choice as brave and selfless, but in reality, it leaves her exactly where she began — alone.

This pattern repeats endlessly in storytelling. Female characters are denied the right to both love and fulfillment; they must be independent or self-sacrificial, or both, and never permitted to have everything they've earned. To suggest that Eleven "represents the magic of childhood" and was "always going to go away" renders her suffering to nothing but fodder to develop the other characters, distilling the show's most important character into plot convenience. Mike Wheeler (Finn Wolfhard) delivers a Dungeons and Dragons epilogue implying she faked her death and went off the grid. His story is supposed to be hopeful, but this either means Mike and the rest of the crew are cool with their friend never wanting to see them again, or they are choosing to lie to themselves about their friend dying to cope. Both outcomes suck. 

Eleven deserved a life with those who loved her and a chance at the normalcy she craved, and you'll never convince me that this was her happy ending.