On Television – Page 5

If She Can See It, She Can Be It: Women of STEM on Television

It is important to have women represented in fictional media as scientists from across the spectrum of sciences… By making women more visible in science settings on television – in both fictional and factual programming – the inspiring images of science that can and are being produced can be associated with women who are not only represented as smart individuals but as part of a network of diverse and complex professional women.

This guest post written by Amy C. Chambers originally appeared at The Science and Entertainment Laboratory and an edited version appears here as part of our theme week on Women Scientists. It is cross-posted with permission.

I am a self-proclaimed Orphan Black geek monkey and I am obsessed with Clone Club (and their marvelous dance parties). When I first started to explore the representation of women in science in entertainment media I wrote a blog post on the subject to help organize my thoughts on how and where women working in STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) were represented. I got a great response from people who read the article and received lots of tweets about the mysterious Cosima Niehaus. After a quick google I binge-watched the first two seasons of Orphan Black (an almost entirely female-led science-based series) and excitedly watching seasons three on four on TV.

I have now discovered that Cosima is an evolutionary biologist (the geek-monkey) who is one of the show’s main characters; part of a cast of clones (#CloneClub) all played by the mesmerizing Tatiana Maslany. Cosima is named after Orphan Black’s own science advisor Cosima Herter (one of the few women acting as a science consultant in mainstream film/TV) who is a science writer interested “in the ethics, philosophy, and history of biology, especially cloning, evolutionary theory, and genetic engineering.” In Orphan Black, Cosima is both an active scientist who helps to drive the plot and explain much of the series’ scientific complexities, and a science experiment as part of a convoluted conspiracy plot surrounding the Dyad Institute, the Neolutionists, the Proletheans, and Topside, amongst many others. It is a narratively dense series, but at its core it is fixated upon science and women — something that I discovered was severely lacking in the mother / daughter / lover women I found on the silver screen.

I am restricting my examples to TV series released after 2000 and I chose to split discussions of film and television because there is a disparity between the number of women scientists in mainstream Hollywood movies, and the volume of women present in television shows. Some of this is due to the fact that there are far more TV programs made than films, and that the production process is very different with the option for pilot-episodes (to test out potentially unprofitable female characters…), early cancellations (in the U.S. context), and long-running shows such as FOX’s Bones that provide the opportunity for existing female characters to be developed and for new ones to be introduced.

Bones is led by Dr Temperance “Bones” Brennan with a comparatively substantial list of female co-stars in scientific professions (in the main cast the gender split is 50:50). The women are not outnumbered, the women have conversations about things other than men, and they are not ‘damsels in distress’ – they fight their own battles and wield their own firearms. The series passes both the Smurfette test and the Bechdel test. However, Bones does not comment on the very real issue of sexism in the hard sciences but it, in part, helps to address the problem by making women, from a variety of different backgrounds, scientific role models for its viewers.

Women make up between 60-65% of the US TV viewership but, as noted in a 2013 study by the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, only 38.9% of characters in prime-time programs are women, and only 22% of prime-time programs feature women in half of all speaking parts. Science-based television series seem to fair better with women taking some significant roles within their respective shows. There are some brilliant examples of women in STEM on the small screen for example: Astrid Farnsworth (Jasica Nicole) and Nina Sharp (Blair Brown) from Fringe; Abby Sciuto (Pauley Perrette) from NCIS; Virginia Johnson (Lizzy Caplan) from Masters of Sex; Nikki Alexander (Emilia Fox), Clarissa Mullery (Liz Carr), and Sam Ryan (Amanda Burton) from the UK’s Silent Witness; Jemma Simmons (Elizabeth Henstridge), and Daisy ‘Skye’ Johnson (Chloe Bennet) from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.; Alison Carter (Salli Richardson-Whitfield) from Eureka; Samantha Carter (Amanda Tapping) – from Stargate: SG1, Stargate Universe, and Stargate: Atlantis. Where I struggled to build a long post-2000 list of women of science in cinema in a couple of hours I managed to amass a list of more than fifty women of STEM on mainstream shows with a mix of science fiction and science-based/medical dramas. I also included mechanical engineers Kaylee Frye (Jewel Staite) from Firefly, The 100’s Raven Reyes (Lindsey Morgan), and Scorpion’s Happy Quinn (Jadyn Wong). Yet despite these good examples, women still pale in comparison to their male counterparts who are often the lead characters.

“Both young girls and boys should see female decision-makers, political leaders, managers, and scientists as the norm, not the exception. By increasing the number and diversity of female leaders and role models on screen, content creators may affect the ambitions and career aspirations of girls and young women domestically and internationally. As Geena Davis frequently states: ‘If she can see it, she can be it.’” —Gender Roles & Occupations: A Look at Character Attributes and Job-Related Aspirations in Film and Television

It is important to have women represented in fictional media as scientists from across the spectrum of sciences, not just biological and medical sciences. Although I did not struggle to create a post-2000 TV list of women with science-based professions, I did find that a higher percent of the women I found were working in the biosciences including all the female medics on House, Body of Proof, CSI, Rizzoli & Isles, The Strain. Finding women represented in the hard sciences was more of a challenge – in The Big Bang Theory for example, of the female scientists that are series regulars Amy Farrah Fowler (Mayim Bialik) and Bernadette Rostenkowski-Wolowitz (Melissa Rauch), one is a neurologist and the other is microbiologist. They are repeatedly shown to be academically brilliant and their scientific prowess adds to their characterization but they are both bioscientists – the hard physical sciences are almost entirely left to the men. Earlier in the series, there was the wonderful Leslie Winkle (Sara Gilbert) who was a physicist who was able to hold her own and often exceed the achievements of the boys – but she was not retained as a series regular.

I had to search through several of the The Big Bang Theory seasons to find a second example of a woman outside of the biosciences and medicine: Elizabeth Plimpton (Judy Greer), cosmological physicist, appears in one episode – “The Plimpton Stimulation” in season 3 – but her academic prowess is soon undermined by the character’s voracious sexual appetite. Other women include Leonard’s (Johnny Galecki) mother, psychologist Beverly Hofstadter (Christine Baranski); Leonard’s ex, Stephanie Barnett, MD (Sara Rue); and Raj’s (Kunal Nayyar) girlfriend, dermatologist Emily Sweeney (Laura Spencer, who also plays intern Jessica Warren on Bones). Rashel Li and Lindy A. Orthia conducted a study on viewer responses to scientific ability and gender balance/imbalance on The Big Bang Theory. Many participants were irritated by the gender-based stereotypes of men in physics and women in biology but conceded that all scientist characters were shown to be equally scientifically capable despite their restriction to particular fields.

This made me think about how the female characters are incorporated into The Big Bang Theory. When the sitcom began in 2007 there was only Penny (she had no last name until recently, when she married one of the male scientists and took his name, don’t even get me started on that) a supposedly ditzy actress/food server played by Kaley Cuoco to provide gender “balance.” But over its nine seasons, the show has evolved from being a tired trope of “nerdy male scientists can’t get a dates” to a show with developed female characters who are more than romantic accessories or weak comedic stereotypes. The show has been praised for its realistic representation of bench science, but up until its fourth season it failed to show professional women in STEM settings unless they were administrators, assistants, or students. Amy and Bernadette start off as the oddball lady-Sheldon and the squeaky-voiced vertically-challenged blonde – but these initially problematic characters develop to show the real-world issues faced by professional women who struggle with not being taken seriously because they are women who don’t reject their femininity. They are not the stereotypical representations of STEM women as described by Jocelyn Steinke in her study of female scientist representation in movies 1991-2001, and they are not simply sci-candy brought in to solve problems for the male leads. The women of The Big Bang Theory are now given screen-time without the male characters and Amy, Bernadette, and Penny (who left waiting tables to forge a career in pharmaceutical sales) have their own lives to discuss beyond their romantic entanglements. The show still needs to work on its representation of gender (and race) in STEM, but it remains one of the most realistic representations of real science on television, and may inspire some women to pursue a career in the sciences.

“In recent years the so called ‘fourth wave’ activists and organisations have been making great strides in bringing feminism back up the social and political agenda. Groups like the Everyday Sexism Project, No More Page Three, the Women of the World festival (WOW) and the Women on Bank Notes campaign have all contributed to widening understanding of our social inequalities. This is the wider context within which we can begin to address the inequalities in STEM.

We call on TV and other media to use the gender lens when casting new characters in widely viewed programmes, commissioning new series that challenge gender stereotypes, and to both train and use female experts.” – Science Grrl, THROUGH BOTH EYES: The case for a gender lens in STEM

Media producers need to think more actively about incorporating female characters into their science-based TV series; they should, as recommended by a report produced by Science Grrl (quoted above), use a gender lens when commissioning new shows. They need to work towards producing shows that “challenge gender stereotypes” – women should not be an afterthought or a late addition; they should be part of the initial design of the program. A huge majority of science-based television programs and films have science consultants who advise on science content and science-based storylines to make them more believable and entertaining. It is important to have scientists involved in a production at an early stage as collaborators to allow for a more organic incorporation of scientific principles and more accurate representations of the systems of science (laboratories, experiments, results). This should also be applied to the incorporation of women in STEM – as part of my developing research I want to analyze the incorporation of women into science-based shows and ask how improving the involvement of women (as science advisors, writers, directors, etc.) could genuinely improve and diversify the representation of scientists.

The film and television industry is still an extremely male dominated field. “In 2013-14, women comprised 27% of all individuals working as creators, directors, writers, producers, executive producers, editors, and directors of photography,” according to “Boxed In Report,” commissioned by Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film. For me, the most important media recommendation made by the Science Grrl report is the idea that women need to be incorporated into the process early and that media producers should even be involved in training women scientists to be active contributors. Science consultants are an increasingly important part of producing exciting and entertaining science-based TV and film. Dr. Kevin R. Grazier, the science advisor for Battlestar Galactica, Defiance, Falling Skies, and the movie Gravity spoke at an event I was involved with about his involvement in the these projects from the beginning – science was a core element of their creation. Science-based narratives are informed by the science-based worlds created by both the creative teams and their science advisors.

The experience of female scientists is an important thing to be presenting on-screen not only for young women but also for young men who can have the idea of seeing women of STEM on their screens normalized. By involving women in STEM as advisors and collaborators, the representation of women can move from being token figures and anomalies to being regular and entirely expected leading figures in science-based narratives on either the big or the small screen. By making women more visible in science settings on television – in both fictional and factual programming – the inspiring images of science that can and are being produced can be associated with women who are not only represented as smart individuals but as part of a network of diverse and complex professional women.

Women don’t need to be told that science can be girly, and they don’t need to be given pretty role models to show them the way into science; but they do need to be shown that science is for everyone.

Amy C. Chambers is a postdoctoral researcher at Newcastle University in the UK researching the intersection of science and entertainment media. Her newest project explores the representation and the projected futures of women within scientific cultures in science fiction. She blogs about her research and interests at the Science and Entertainment Laboratory and The Unsettling Scientific Stories Project, and you can follow her on Twitter at @AmyCChambers.

Dana Scully: Femininity, Otherness, and the Ultimate X-File

Instead of investigating the science, Scully actually becomes the science. …There seems to be a substantial link between Scully’s gender and the tests and science that is inflicted upon her. Is this her punishment for daring to be a woman in a male-dominated sphere? … There’s also something pretty grim in Scully’s abduction/missing ovum storyline that feels very reminiscent of higher powers meddling and making decisions about women’s reproductive rights.

This guest post written by Becky Kukla appears as part of our theme week on Women Scientists.

Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) is my ultimate icon. She’s intelligent, cool-headed, and super sassy. She also has the best job in the world which usually involves traipsing miserably after her alien-obsessed FBI partner Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) in a bid to prove the existence of extraterrestrials to the United States government. Yeah… and I thought my job sounded stressful…

The X Files was, and to some extent still is, a cultural phenomenon. Countless articles and academic papers (including part of my dissertation) have been written about the cult aspect of the show, the allegories to our real world society, and the inversion of masculine/feminine stereotypes within the main characters (Mulder is an emotional believer, Scully is a rational skeptic). The X-Files often does hold a mirror up to the things we often glaze over within society, and its portrayal of The Syndicate (a group who effectively control everything in the world) as a bunch of old, white men is particularly relevant, even twenty years later. While The X-Files was busy being experimental in its monsters of the week and its representation of our society, the show tended to be incredibly formulaic in terms of the dynamic between the two main characters. No, I am not talking about that insatiable chemistry that still has us all guessing today, but the typical narrative structure of each episode. Mulder discovers a weird case with potential supernatural links, Scully tells him that he is mad and looks for scientific explanation, Mulder proves that his explanation is the correct one, all the evidence is destroyed (somehow) and Scully still finds that she can’t quite bring herself to ignore ‘the science.’

It makes for nostalgic viewing (we are never in any doubt about what will transpire throughout the episode), but it also feels like Scully gets the short straw a lot. Dana Scully is a qualified medical professional (“I’m a medical doctor!”), yet her years of training and experience fall flat against the little green men. She is exceptionally clever, but she is way out of her depth with these supernatural cases. Aside from doing autopsies, Mulder almost constantly has the upper hand throughout each case. That is until the events that transpire at the beginning of Season 2. Instead of investigating the science, Scully actually becomes the science.

At the beginning of Season 2, Scully is abducted — in both the physical and supernatural sense of the word — and it is later revealed that certain tests were performed on her. She returns safe and sound (okay, safe being a pretty optimistic word) and has no memory of these events, until about a season later. Scully realizes that a metal chip has been placed in the back of her neck (which she determines must have been placed there at the time of her abduction) and she ends up meeting with a group of women who have all had chips removed. Subsequently, all of the women she meets have succumbed to some sort of cancer. A skeptic at best, Scully brushes away these fears until it is revealed in “Memento Mori” that Scully has cancer, and it’s pretty bad.

I wish I could tell you that Scully’s life gets better from here on, but after her survival from cancer, she goes on to discover that during her abduction, her ova were harvested and have since been used to produce bizarre alien clone children — one of whom she has the pleasure of meeting in “A Christmas Carol” and “Emily.” But Scully’s road is never easy, and naturally, Emily dies.

To sum it up, Scully has a pretty terrible time and there seems to be a substantial link between Scully’s gender and the tests and science that is inflicted upon her. Is this her punishment for daring to be a woman in a male-dominated sphere? Scully is already “othered” by her presence in a patriarchal world as a woman — she frequently experiences sexist comments from other characters, exemplified by another female colleague in Soft Light. Scully becomes synonymous with the supernatural elements which Mulder is so fixated on, her female physicality means that she is the perfect candidate. Her ova were removed, cells which men do not possess, so it’s not a leap to say that Scully was abducted because she was a woman.

We are probably all aware of the existing link between ‘the mother,’ ‘the feminine’ and ‘the monstrous’ in science fiction (thanks Barbara Creed!). Motherhood and the reproductive process is fixated upon time and time again in the sci-fi world. Scully becomes removed from the supposed ‘natural’ process of motherhood, and her own body is used to breed alien hybrid children against her will or consent. She becomes a part of the ‘monstrous,’ something unnatural and seemingly abhorrent. In the episode, “Humbug” — as discussed by Lisa Parks in Deny All Knowledge: Reading The X-Files — Scully shares a moment with Lenny: a man with a detachable conjoined twin who turns out to be ever so slightly bloodthirsty. Both Lenny and Scully are caught off guard and share an embarrassing look at each other when both of their dressing gowns come slightly loose. As Scully stares awkwardly at Lenny’s belly, Lenny stares equally at Scully’s breast. The implication here is that both Scully and Lenny are alike in their otherness — both regarded by society as ‘other.’ This also comes at a point within the series after Scully has had the alien implant inserted in her neck, however she is not aware of it. The process of using her ovum to produce alien-hybrid clones has also begun, not that she knows it. As cyborg feminist specialist Donna Haraway — definitely check out her book, A Cyborg Manifesto — suggested; women, cyborgs, similans and the like are all “odd boundary creatures” which constantly threaten the traditional narratives and push the limits of science. Scully, and the other monsters we meet in The X Files are certainly guilty of that.

Aligning Scully with ‘othered’ alien life, cyborgs, and other women in the series posits her in this sort of feminized space, against the patriarchal FBI. However, Scully’s work (especially her initial task which was to debunk Mulder’s theories on behalf of her superiors at the academy) serves the masculine and patriarchal government. Indeed, even when Scully isn’t debunking Mulder’s odd (but accurate) theories, she is more often than not running around after Mulder, writing down his ideas, acting as his support staff, etc. In fact, it takes Scully until season 5 to express her annoyance at not even having her own desk in their shared office.

Scully continues to be skeptical of the existence of extraterrestrials, or of conspiracy theories — choosing instead to buy into the science. Despite everything that has been aggressively done to her, Scully can’t quite bring herself to believe that the existence of extraterrestrials can be real, even though her own body harbors the technology. As Lisa Parks points out, Scully’s position as a scientist is quite precarious. The science in the show is channeled through the feminized form (aka Scully) and therefore open to critical analysis, more so than if it was a male scientist. Scully, while a firm skeptic of aliens, is almost always intrinsically linked to this (as described earlier), so her skepticism of the supernatural and her insistence to hold onto this female fallible science seems to equate to her inability to accept herself.

There’s also something pretty grim in Scully’s abduction/missing ovum storyline that feels very reminiscent of higher powers meddling and making decisions about women’s reproductive rights. Instead of making laws, the Syndicate have a very real effect on the abductees’ abilities to have children therefore taking the decision away from the individual completely. It’s interesting to note that when men are victims of alien (or government) abduction in The X-Files, it is never intrinsically linked to the fact that they are male. On a very non-supernatural level, Scully constantly has to fight in the male-dominated space which is the FBI, and her shift from rational career woman to someone who has had the choice to bear children forcibly taken away from her serves to remind us that Scully is not male, however much she tries to assert herself.

Scully, while incredibly influential to generations of young women going into STEM subjects, is a rather questionable character. Traditionally, science has positioned female bodies as passive objects for male scientific dissection. Despite Scully being a scientist, as a woman, her body is still constantly placed under great scrutiny — from the clone offspring, to her cancer, even her tattooing exploits in “Never Again.” Dana Scully is an absolutely fascinating character, but it often feels as if she is being studied during The X-Files, when perhaps she should be the one doing the studying?

Recommended Reading: Scully, What Are You Wearing? The Problem of Feminism, Subversion, and Heteronormativity in The X-Files by Lacy Hodges (University of Florida, 2005).

Becky Kukla lives in London, works in documentary production/distribution to pay the bills and writes things about feminism, film and TV online in her spare time. You can find more of her work at her blog femphile or on Twitter @kuklamoo.

Mary and Susan on ‘Johnny Test’

While the show as a whole was run-of-the-mill, it quietly had two of the most brilliantly realized female characters in recent cartoon history: Mary and Susan Test. …Mary and Susan Test are ambitious, intelligent, and fully-actualized. Exaggeratedly brilliant scientists, it’s the twin girls who put into motion most events of the series.

This guest post written by Robert V. Aldrich appears as part of our theme week on Women Scientists.

No one’s going to blame you if you haven’t heard of Johnny Test.

It was a quiet little show that ran from 2005 to 2014, first on The CW (Kids’ WB at the time) and thereafter on Cartoon Network. There wasn’t a whole lot to it as a show, to be honest. It was pretty casual fare about a boy and his talking dog, with simple art and generic animation. The voice acting was pretty decent but nothing to write home about. Each episode was usually a very simple concept (often revolving around school, chores, and similar mundane events) that got milked for all it was worth. The series’ episodes had a few decent jokes to make you smirk, a lot of lowest-common-denominator giggles, and one or two gags that went over the kids’ heads that only mom or dad got. It was a perfectly decent show, perhaps even good at times, but never anything particularly stellar.

In another time and place, Johnny Test might have been a bigger deal, but like its ancestors from the late-80s, the series suffered from being an adequate cartoon just after a major epoch of great cartoons (with the 2008 conclusion of Avatar: The Last Airbender and the cancellation of Toonami) as well as being overshadowed by a few stellar standouts (like Ben 10 and Transformers: Animated). As such, only its very core target audience even knew it existed. Which is a shame because while the show as a whole was run-of-the-mill, it quietly had two of the most brilliantly realized female characters in recent cartoon history: Mary and Susan Test.

While the TV series Johnny Test was very clearly aimed right at the ‘boy’ demographic, with the titular character and his talking dog Dukey (…shudder…) being the centerpiece of most episodes, the two pivotal characters were Johnny’s older twin sisters. Whereas Johnny was an average, no-brand kid who was equal parts jock, geek, and lay-about (IE your generic all-American pre-tween), Mary and Susan Test are ambitious, intelligent, and fully-actualized. Exaggeratedly brilliant scientists, it’s the twin girls who put into motion most events of the series. The two red-haired teen girls are constantly working on scientific experiments that push the boundaries of human comprehension, ability, and rend the very laws of nature. Basically, think Dexter from Dexter’s Lab, only with actual manners, social graces, and no bizarre accent.

Mary, the eldest of the twins and visualized with curly hair and baggy pants, is an open-minded sort of scientist, willing to engage with most any theory. She’s slightly more out-going of the two girls and focuses mostly on their collective work. She seems to be the more mature of the two and the most well-adjusted of the three Test children.

Susan is Mary’s counterpart (if differences that subtle can be called such). The younger of the two, Susan has straight hair and typically wears a skirt. She’s a little more hard-nosed when it comes to science and interpretation, and is a little more curt. She evidences a quicker temper than her sister, and has also garnered the attention of an unwanted paramour in the form of Eugene ‘Bling-Bling Boy’ Hamilton.

Both Mary and Susan are brilliant scientists, whose work is courted by the U.S. government (who seem synonymous with the military, though they’re frequently played for comic relief) and other institutions, even while they attend school at Porkbelly Technical Institute (which seems to be a generic higher-ed establishment and made unclear if it’s a high school or a college).

Mary and Susan are not the first female science wonks in cartoon history. Prior to them, cartoon-watchers had Gadget Hackwrench from Rescue Rangers and Sandy Cheeks on Spongebob Squarepants (yep, technically the squirrel in a diving suit is a scientist). Go back any farther and you could debatably include Penny from Inspector Gadget, but at about that point, the already paltry list begins to thin out completely. Sure, some shows had the occasional one-off or even recurring character as a female scientist (Transformers had Carly, Spike’s girlfriend who seemed a little too enamored with the alien robots), but by and large, the media was woefully lacking in such representation. This necessitated audiences look to live-action entertainment for any semblance of female characters into science, math, and the like. But live-action stuff’s like, for adults and who wants to watch that?

Even more remarkable is that while female science characters are in short supply, in even shorter supply – so much so as to border on unheard of – are female scientists who are still GIRLS. In the annals of cartoon history, one would be hard-pressed to find any other characters so prominent and also so well-rounded. While Mary and Susan’s cartoon predecessors were often more scientist than girl, the Test Twins are still very much regular teen girls. They like to get gussied up in dresses, go to the pool, and go dancing. They like makeup and many of the usual trappings associated with femininity. They just also really, really love science.

This is best evidenced by both girls having an unrequited interest in Gil Nexdor (get it?), the hunky airhead that lives down the street. Both girls pine for Gil’s easily-distracted attention, but are exceptionally clueless as to how to achieve it or hold it. For most of the show, Gil seems largely oblivious to the Test Twins’ very existence, an interesting reversal on the usual trope. It’s doubly interesting because of how it is similar to Susan’s struggles with Bling-Bling Boy and his constant, unwanted (and at times, toxic) attention.

Most every episode of Johnny Test involves the girls and their intelligence. Either an invention of theirs kicks off the episode’s action, or one is needed to save the day. Episodes vary from the run-of-the-mill charm-of-life episodes involving the usual kids’ matters (lazy afternoon, not wanting to do homework, sibling rivalry, etc.) to hyper-exaggerated inanity (alien invasions, feuds with other super-geniuses). Mary and Susan sometimes struggle with one another, as sisters are wont to do, but always end up reconciling. Likewise, their attitudes towards Johnny vary from episode to episode, depending on how much trouble he’s getting them into or how much they want him to test a new invention, but they always drop everything to help him.

The Test Twins really are quite remarkable as characters. As progressive as cartoons can be, there remains a colossal dearth of science-minded female characters, especially ones who embrace femininity. Were we to guess based off the likes of their peers and predecessors like Penny or Gadget, we might get the impression that once a woman puts on a lab coat or a stethoscope, she ceases to be a woman or a girl. Once she commits to STEM interests, she quits being interested in dresses, dances, or swooning after crushes. Mary and Susan Test challenge this quietly but directly.

For girls tuning in to watch this show, they found two prominent and visible characters who appear in nearly every single episode and always contribute meaningfully, if not outright save the day. Moreover, they do it not with beauty or social graces or even physical might, but with their intellect. These girls are the force in the show because of their smarts. Name any other cartoon with any other female character (much less two!) that can say the same. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

Moreover, these two girls are not the centerpieces of the show. While they’re certainly not supporting characters, they’re not quite tritagonists with Johnny either. Mary and Susan occupy some unique territory where, depending on the episode, they find themselves as anything from partner-in-crime to background character to even deus ex machina. At first glance, this might seem a bit to undermine their importance, but consider instead that the target audience of this show is likely to be boys (because heaven forbid a show appeal to both, but that’s a discussion for another matter). By having these two super-science girls in the background of the show helps normalize the notion of girls who are smart, ambitious and love science. If this show were a little boy’s favorite TV show, it would be very likely that he would be completely accepting of girls at school being into biology, math, and the like. After all, why wouldn’t they be?

The world of entertainment has not been kind to women and girls who are interested in science, technology, engineering, and math. Often these characters are written quickly out of shows, turned into one-off joke characters, or relegated to quiet support. When they are featured in any way, they are nerdy outcasts who are scientists not just first, but almost exclusively. If a female character is into STEM matters, it’s as if they must sacrifice their femininity.

Mary and Susan casually dismiss all of that as the garbage that it is. They’re girls, fully realized and healthy in every way, who love science and lose themselves in their pursuits. No struggle exists to reconcile their intellects with their lives as girls. They are the perfect role-models of the aspiring scientist who also wants to wear cute clothes and go to the prom. On a show that otherwise was solid but quite forgettable, these girls stood out as contributing wonderfully to the tapestry of rich female characters cartoons have offered.

Not too bad for a cartoon with a talking dog named Dukey.

Robert V. Aldrich is a writer and novelist, living in Raleigh, North Carolina (and plans to vote against Pat McCrory as soon as November gets here). He’s the author of numerous books including Samifel and Rhest for the Wicked, as well as a contributing writer for multiple websites. You can find more of his work at TeachTheSky.com and he can be found on Facebook and Twitter. When not writing B-rate sci-fi or smarty-pants evaluations of kids’ shows, he is working for the health department, teaching martial arts, or losing arguments to his cats.

Beverly Crusher (‘Star Trek: TNG’) and Dana Scully (‘The X-Files’): The Medical and the Maternal

The impact of Dr. Beverly Crusher and Agent Dana Scully cannot be understated, not just on the landscape of female representation on television or the portrayal of women scientists but the way they also drove young women to pursue STEM fields in reality. …They transcend mere descriptors like woman, lover, mother, caregiver, skeptic, scientist — because they’re all that and more.

This guest post written by Carly Lane appears as part of our theme week on Women Scientists. | Spoilers ahead.

In the vast, diverse spectrum of science fiction worlds, it often seems as if no role, no profession, is off-limits to female characters. To that end, it has often been cited as a deeply progressive genre for fictional women, depicting the importance of their contributions as being equal to their male counterparts. When compared alongside the investigation of extraterrestrial life or the exploration of worlds other than our own, a strong and competent woman doesn’t seem that extraordinary by comparison.

Although science-fiction has been guilty of relying on outdated sexist tropes on occasion, it should be celebrated for the avenues where female characters are allowed to become more developed and three-dimensional. It’s these women that we often look up to as role models, even though they sometimes come from a future very far away from our own. Two of those characters appeared on television shows which spanned nearly fifteen years — Dr. Beverly Crusher, from Star Trek: The Next Generation, and Dana Scully, from The X-Files. Maybe not surprisingly, there’s more that links these two fictional ladies than the fact that they share the same hair color, or that they both have backgrounds in STEM fields. Over the course of their respective programs, they were allowed to become fully realized characters who had journeys independent of any influence from men — and though both women do have important relationships with several men in their lives, it isn’t what defines them.

When we’re introduced to Dr. Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden) at the start of The Next Generation we learn two things up front: first, that she’s a single mother to young son Wesley (Wil Wheaton), and second, that she has a personal history with Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart), who captains the Starfleet vessel the USS Enterprise. In spite of the tie that binds them, which is revealed to be the death of Crusher’s husband Jack, the doctor assures Picard that it will in no way affect “the way [she] serves [him], the vessel or the mission” as Chief Medical Officer (“Encounter at Farpoint”).

And, for the most part, it doesn’t — at least not early on. In fact, it seems like she’s barely joined on with the Enterprise before she accepts a position as head of Starfleet Medical less than a year later. Granted, the decision of the character was heavily informed by the departure of actress Gates McFadden at the end of season one; both McFadden and Crusher returned to the show for season three after fans campaigned to bring the character back. While the reason for Crusher’s return is never provided in dialogue, we see the toll her absence has taken — especially in her relationship with her son Wesley, who had remained on the Enterprise as acting ensign. The interactions between them are initially strained and awkward, and eventually Crusher goes to Picard to ask him about how her son has been during her time away (“Evolution”).

Mother and son don’t resolve their tension right off the bat, either; when Crusher suggests to Wesley that he might have taken on too many responsibilities, he snaps at her, invoking her absence. “I’m here now, Wesley,” she says, and over the course of the remaining episode Wesley allows himself to rely a little more on his mother for a change. It’s one of the few instances in TNG where Wesley does lean on Crusher in some way; more often than not, when it comes to asking for advice or venting his problems, we usually see Wesley seek out a male member of Starfleet, or even Guinan (Whoopi Goldberg), the proprietor of Enterprise’s bar Ten-Forward. Whether that was unintentional or stemming from the belief that an adolescent man shouldn’t be running to his mother with his problems, it definitely contributed to a number of missed opportunities for more meaningful interaction between Crusher and her son.

On the other hand, TNG doesn’t define Crusher solely by her role as a mother — and it shouldn’t. As Chief Medical Officer on the Enterprise, she’s the head of the team responsible for administering care not just to the other vessel’s crew members but also to the alien races they encounter over the course of their mission. Her background in science and medicine requires her to be familiar with unique anatomy, to develop cures for foreign illnesses, or to handle emergency medical situations with a calm demeanor. As a certified bridge officer, she is afforded command of the bridge on several occasions in the absence of other crew members. She has her own friendships forged outside professional boundaries, namely with ship’s counselor Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis); the two women frequently go to each other for advice and recommendations. She also finds herself pursuing potential romantic attachments, though they don’t tend to last beyond the confines of an episode. And she even dances around a potential relationship with Picard, even though neither of them truly act on what appear to be mutual romantic feelings. Over the course of TNG, we’re afforded the opportunity to glimpse Crusher as a mother, a doctor, and a woman with feelings and strong convictions.

While Crusher’s journey begins as that of a mother and branches outward, the story arc of Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) is something of the opposite. In The X-Files, it’s the skeptical Scully who serves as an avatar for the audience, our way in; it’s through her science that the FBI intends for her to debunk the X-Files and thereby discredit former golden boy Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) as a result. She’s immediately defined by her science, by her medical background; the frequency of Scully introducing herself by her profession in early seasons is a long-running joke among die-hard X-Philes, but there’s some part of it that’s almost necessary due to the occasional sexism she faces from men working in her field. When a male detective questions “the wisdom of assigning female law enforcement officers to certain types of cases” during a murder investigation, Scully assures him that his “concern” is misplaced (“2Shy”). Fortunately, she doesn’t find herself on the receiving end of any gross comments from her partner Mulder; although the two of them usually disagree on the whodunit, their verbal sparring matches are often a means to allow both parties to bounce potential hypotheses off one another.

It takes some time, but inevitably we learn that Scully occasionally harbors thoughts of having a social life, building relationships, and perhaps even starting a family someday outside of her work on the X-Files. Her attempts at dating never quite end the way she expects (“The Jersey Devil,” “Never Again”). Her alien abduction comes with its own set of side ramifications after Mulder learns that some of her eggs had been harvested during the process, eventually leading to the creation of a child (“Emily”). Scully experiences an overwhelming sense of connection with the girl and is heartbroken when Emily dies from a genetic infection, especially since this comes in the aftermath of Scully learning of her own infertility as the result of her abduction — or so she thinks.

Scully’s desire to be a mother again never truly goes away, and when she eventually decides to have a child through in vitro fertilization she asks Mulder to be the donor (“Per Manum”); although the initial attempt at in vitro fails, Scully later learns she is pregnant shortly after the alien abduction of Mulder, suggesting that the two were intimate long enough to conceive naturally (“Requiem”). While she is overjoyed to finally have a child of her own, Scully soon realizes that she and her son William will never find peace given the threats to his life that exist in her world, and makes the devastating decision to give him up for adoption so that he can grow up safely. In the revival of The X-Files, we learn that Scully frequently reminisces about the life she could have had with William if he had stayed with her, but the question of whether she will ever be able to reunite with her child even after all this time is still open-ended.

After all, as often as we’ve seen Scully try to leave the X-Files (and Mulder, by extension) behind and start anew, something always seems to occur to bring her back in somehow. And there’s value in that, in depicting a female character who wrestles with her convictions both as a woman of science and a woman of faith, in allowing her to explore her own wants and needs while not necessarily prioritizing that of her male partner’s. On The X-FIles, it never felt as though Mulder and Scully were on anything but equal footing; in his absence, she’s given the opportunity to fully champion the truth she had originally been assigned to dismiss.

The impact of Crusher and Scully cannot be understated, not just on the landscape of female representation on television or the portrayal of women scientists but the way they also drove young women to pursue STEM fields in reality. (Scully even has this effect partly named after her.) Maybe it’s because they’re impossible to sum up in just one word; they transcend mere descriptors like woman, lover, mother, caregiver, skeptic, scientist — because they’re all that and more. It’s the full representation of the many facets of their character that’s given these fictional women their long-lasting appeal for so many years already, and hopefully for many more years to come.

Carly Lane is a writer based in New York City who specializes in obscure pop culture references and miscellaneous geekery. Her work has been featured on The Mary Sue, Teen Vogue, The Toast and more. You can find her on Twitter at @carlylane.

The Female Scientists of ‘The X-Files’

‘The X-Files’ consistently worked against the idea that women could not be capable scientists. In fact, there is evidence to suggest that the character of Dana Scully inspired many young women to pursue education and careers in science and technology – what is now known as “The Scully Effect.”

This guest post written by Angela Morrison appears as part of our theme week on Women Scientists.

In the world of The X-Files, female scientists are not treated as anomalies, or exceptions to the rule. Female scientists are prominent characters in many episodes and are (almost) always treated with great respect and regard. Not to mention, one of the two protagonists is the most kick-ass television scientist of all time – Dana Katherine Scully (Gillian Anderson).

Throughout the series, it’s revealed that Scully studied physics in university, and later attended medical school, before changing career paths to become an FBI agent – where she was eventually assigned to work with Special Agent Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) on The X-Files. Scully is both a brilliant scientist and an empathetic and intelligent FBI agent. She uses her skills as a medical doctor to assist with anything and everything: she performs autopsies, comes to the aid of those who are injured (Mulder, most of the time), and identifies anomalies in blood and cell samples – frequently identifying them as alien.

Writers such as Caitlin Flynn at Bustle have noted the reversal of gender stereotypes within the partnership of Mulder and Scully. Oftentimes in television and cinema, women represent the irrational, emotional, and uncontainable, while men offer the voice of reason and rationality. In the case of The X-Files, Mulder’s work is highly emotional for him as he passionately believes in all of the supernatural cases that he and Scully investigate. Scully is the skeptic, always questioning and challenging Mulder. She strongly believes in science, seeking to find a rational answer for every strange thing the duo encounter.

What makes Scully so great is that she is a complex, emotional person while simultaneously a rational scientist. She is always sympathetic to what Mulder says (even if she does roll her eyes at him constantly), and over the course of the series, her skepticism softens (it does take a very long time). Scully is also a devoted Catholic (which Flynn covers in her article) — her religious beliefs do not necessarily align with her scientific beliefs. But this does not make her a hypocrite. She believes in facts and nature, and at the same time she is spiritual and devoted to her faith. Jennifer Still at Bustle notes that Scully is complex and contradictory – a layered and brilliant character. Scully never takes off her golden cross necklace – except when she is abducted in the second season, and Mulder wears it as a symbol of his faith in Scully. Mulder is an atheist, but he believes in aliens. Scully is a scientist, but she believes in God – and they both respect each others’ beliefs.

Scully does not exist solely to be eye-candy for viewers, nor to only be Mulder’s love interest. From the very first episodes, the creators of the show make it clear that Mulder and Scully see each other as equals, and they immediately trust and respect each other. Yes, they are both beautiful, and yes, the chemistry between them is the best thing ever, but these facts never overshadow the incredible work they do together. The show does not opt for an explicit and predictable romance subplot. Instead, we see Mulder and Scully’s friendship and professional relationship blossom and take unexpected turns throughout the series. This is much more interesting, and it also indicates that Scully is an actual complex human woman, rather than a plot device to move along the male protagonist’s story.

Scully is also never treated as a “damsel in distress” – she and Mulder are kidnapped/abducted and put in dangerous situations in equal measures, and they both come to each others’ rescue whenever they can. Scully is never portrayed as “weak” just because she is a woman; she and Mulder are always portrayed as equally competent during action sequences. However, Scully does face everyday sexism on the job. There are male characters throughout the series who underestimate Scully because of her gender. But the show always proves them wrong and Scully is never afraid to call people out – in fact, she even calls Mulder out in the season 3 episode “Syzygy”: “I’m driving. Why do you always have to drive? Because you’re the big, macho man?” And of course, one of the best Scully lines ever, from season 6’s “Dreamland II”, in response to being called “baby”: “‘Baby’ me and you’ll be peeing through a catheter!” Scully always fights back against low-key sexism and proves that women should never be underestimated.

While the show acknowledges that women face stereotyping and sexism every day, it is also optimistic in its portrayal of women. Since the first season, female scientists have appeared in many episodes. Mulder and Scully work closely with these capable, at times complicated, yet fiercely intelligent women. Season 1 episode 8, “Ice,” features Felicity Huffman as Dr. DaSilva, a toxicologist and episode 9, “Space,” Michelle Generoo portrays Susanna Thompson, a NASA communications commander. These are professional women, highly skilled in their respective professions. Both Michelle and Dr. DaSilva use their extensive knowledge to provide Mulder and Scully with clues for solving the mysteries at hand. In season 1, episode 11, “Eve,” Dr. Sally Kendrick (Harriet Harris) is an evil genius, a former fertility doctor who figures out how to clone herself. Her characters could be seen as a problematic portrayal – a “crazy woman” trope – but the series features both male and female villains.

In “War of the Coprophages” from season 4, Dr. Bambi Berenbaum (Bobbie Phillips), an agricultural researcher and insect expert, helps Mulder understand the nature of cockroaches, to assist him with a case involving aggressive cockroaches. In season 5’s “Kill Switch,” Kristin Lehman plays Esther Nairn/”Invisigoth,” a computer expert. Both of these characters are objectified – Mulder flirts with Bambi, and the Lone Gunmen (Bruce Harwood, Tom Braidwood, and Dean Haglund) are immediately attracted to Esther. Scully expresses some jealousy, but it is very mild (played for laughs, not drama), and it does not stop her from working together with these women to solve cases.

The X-Files consistently worked against the idea that women could not be capable scientists. In fact, there is evidence to suggest that the character of Dana Scully inspired many young women to pursue education and careers in science and technology – what is now known as “The Scully Effect.” Representation in film and television is so important. Seeing characters such as Scully, Dr. Bambi Berenbaum, and even season 10’s Agent Einstein (Lauren Ambrose) — another medical doctor/skeptic — lead young women to believe that they are capable of following their dreams and being successful within the professional scientific community. Unfortunately, there’s a lack of diversity as the female scientists on The X-Files are all able-bodied, middle-class, white women. However, Scully and the other female scientists on the show have been kicking ass since the 1990s, proving that women — in both real life and on-screen — can be highly intelligent and complex human beings.

Angela Morrison is a Canadian cinephile who was raised by a female scientist (her mother, a medical laboratory technologist). She has written for Bitch Flicks before, for the Ladies of the 1980s theme week. She also writes about cinema on her blog.

‘The Golden Girls’: The Legacy of a Lifetime of Wisdom and Laughter

In 1985, television audiences were reminded that women of a certain age are just as vibrant, sexual, and as full of life as women half their age. They may also share a few life lessons along the way. The TV series ‘The Golden Girls’ — which aired for seven seasons — reminded audiences of all ages that life does not end at fifty for women.

This guest post written by Adina Bernstein appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s.

Picture it: Brooklyn, 1991. My sister and I, aged 10 and 7 are spending a Saturday night at our widowed grandmother’s apartment. Her favorite show is The Golden Girls.

My grandmother was not a young woman at that point. The youngest daughter of Russian Jewish immigrants, my grandmother had been through quite a lot, starting with the death of her parents when she was a teenager. Marrying my late grandfather (who passed away the year before) in the late 1940s, she raised two sons (my father and uncle). My grandmother watched her sons grow up, get married, enter the working world, and become successful adults. She and my grandfather had a hand in raising her grandchildren (my sister and I). Through that lifetime of experience, my grandmother was and still is a beacon to our entire family.

Once upon a time, older women were revered for the experience, knowledge, and wisdom that take a lifetime to accumulate. Those days, unfortunately, belong in the distant past. Once she reaches a certain age, a woman is more likely to be discarded for a “newer model,” thought to be senile, or viewed only through the lens of her role as a wife, mother, and grandmother. Who she is as a woman, what she has accomplished in life, and the lessons she can teach to those younger than her is often deemed meaningless in society.

In 1985, television audiences were reminded that women of a certain age are just as vibrant, sexual, and as full of life as women half their age. They may also share a few life lessons along the way. The TV series The Golden Girls — which aired for seven seasons — reminded audiences of all ages that life does not end at fifty for women.

Blanche Devereaux (Rue McLanahan) was the Southern belle rarely without a date. Rose Nylund (Betty White) was the innocent Midwesterner who never quite got the joke. Dorothy Zbornak (Bea Arthur) was originally from New York who always quipped the smartass one-liners. Sophia Petrillo (Estelle Getty) was Dorothy’s mother originally from Sicily who escaped the nursing home and whose age allowed her to be as far from politically correct as she wanted to be.

With television (and the media in general), then and now, most older women are not seen as vivacious, independent, capable human beings who can still contribute to the world. They are expected to quietly retire (if they did work outside of the home), take care of their spouse, children, and grandchildren. Their work is done. It’s time to sit in the rocking chair, knit a blanket or sweater, and watch as the next generation steps up to the plate.

They say that sixty is the new forty, that means that forty is the new twenty. People also say that age is just a number. I prefer the latter. Blanche, Dorothy, Rose, and Sophia were just as dynamic, sexual, and spirited as women on-screen who are half their age. In fact, their age made them even more appealing.

The Golden Girls touched on many subjects over the course of seven years: friendship, dating, menopause, being a parent to grown children who may make decisions not approved of, LGBTQ rights, the relationships between family, etc.

Looking back I can see the crack that The Golden Girls put in the glass ceiling. It was a small crack, but an important one. The lesson was clear: just because a woman is over fifty does not mean she is unimportant. What she brings to the table is priceless; there is no dollar sign on life experiences or wisdom. There is nothing more attractive than a person who combines life experiences, intelligence, and confidence to be who they are. Perhaps that is what made The Golden Girls appealing to all audiences and perhaps why there was a string of boyfriends and potential boyfriends that passed through the house.

When I watch The Golden Girls in reruns, I notice several things. I see my childhood and my late grandmothers, who were of the same generation as the characters. I remember the wisdom and experience my grandmothers had, that only someone who lives for fifty plus years can possess. I see four women who not only get along, but are able to maintain a very strong friendship despite their differences. I see four independent and self-reliant women with full social lives and romantic lives. I see four women who are funny, real, and full of life. I see the reminder that when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.

In Jane Austen’s classic novel, Sense and Sensibility, Marianne Dashwood, says, “A woman of seven and twenty… can never hope to feel or inspire affection again.” Granted, this statement is coming from a girl of sixteen, but the sentiment reflects an overall cultural value about women and aging. Women, especially women of a certain age, are supposed to eventually step aside. The Golden Girls did not step aside, nor did they quietly accept the limitations that women their age are supposed to accept. Their declaration was loud and clear: older women can do anything that a woman of thirty can do. In fact, they may be able to do more, not only because of a lifetime of experiences, but because they are free of the responsibilities that come along with a career (although 3 of the women still had careers) and raising a family.

After my grandfather died, my sister and I spend many Saturday evenings with my grandmother. Looking back on those memories, I wouldn’t change them for the world. I also would not change the lessons about age and taking life by the balls that The Golden Girls taught their millions of fans.

See also at Bitch Flicks: How ‘The Golden Girls’ Shaped My Feminism

Adina Bernstein is a Brooklyn born freelance writer and blogger at Writergurlny. You can find her on Twitter @Writergurlny and Instagram.

Women Musicians in the 80s Used Music Videos to Expand Notions of Womanhood

Women in music broadened visual representations of gender as their cacophony of voices inoculated the population to women of all ages, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. … The ladies of 80s music video brought forth new visual representations of women including: experiences in the workforce, issues of class, messages of power, and unique expressions of love and sex.

This guest post written by Gwen Hofmann appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s.

Like any self-respecting child of the eighties, I watched the recent CNN series about the decade. In the episode aptly titled “Video Killed the Radio Star,” former MTV VJ Downtown Julie Brown put the decade into perspective by likening it to looking through a kaleidoscope. Similarly, musician Questlove articulated his take on the decade’s music as being more influential than the 1960s because it incorporated additional voices. Assessments such as these are a great starting point for a discussion of the significance of musical ladies of the 1980s.

Any discussion of ladies of the 80s is incomplete without the inclusion of women in music. Bitch Flicks is devoted primarily to visual media and focuses on viewing films and television through a feminist lens. However, on August 1, 1981 MTV brought music into the format of visual media when it aired its first music video. While most people recall the first video on MTV, few remember that the second video was one of the pioneering leading ladies of the eighties: Pat Benatar with “You Better Run.” With this inauguration, women in music broadened visual representations of gender as their cacophony of voices inoculated the population to women of all ages, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. Most intriguing about this “kaleidoscopic” decade is the way women in 80s music videos displayed these distinct portraits of womanhood. (Of course, this is not to say that there are not troublesome representations of women in 1980s music videos. This was in fact the decade of decadence which included things like the unforgettable Tawny Kitaen cartwheeling over cars, “Hot For Teacher,” and “Girls, Girls, Girls.”)

The ladies of 80s music videos brought forth new visual representations of women including: experiences in the workforce, issues of class, messages of power, and unique expressions of love and sex. In the infancy of MTV video, female artists created a complex pattern of images that underscored lyrics of power and individuality. Women were able to be quirky, androgynous, and assertive in defining their image. Strong women artists are nothing new; the decades are speckled with them especially over the 1960s and 70s. Building on the legacy of women such as Janis Joplin, Loretta Lynn, and Aretha Franklin, the new 80s format forced female artists to supplement lyrics with images.

Women visually asserted power in music videos. Some key examples of this phenomenon are observable in the videos of Joan Jett, Cyndi Lauper, and Pat Benatar. In 1981, Joan Jett released the video for her single “Bad Reputation,” which serves as an interesting starting point since women throughout history have long been held captive by threats to their reputation. Joan Jett throws years of repressive history out the window with this song and subsequent video. Jett commands viewers’ attention as she sings: “I don’t give a damn ’bout my reputation. You’re living in the past, it’s a new generation. A girl can do what she wants to do and that’s what I’m gonna do.” She visually supplements this with images of her dressed in a black leather jacket giving the middle finger to the people who told her to dress a certain way or who wouldn’t sign her to their record label. The song is strong enough on its own, but the video adds the story of how Joan Jett was discouraged by traditional venues such as major record labels — so she created her own.

This pattern of words being supplemented with images continues with songs such as “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” and “Love is a Battlefield.” Annie Lennox and Aretha Franklin’s 1985 hit “Sisters Are Doin’ it for Themselves” does this via a screen which functions as a third person on stage alongside these intoxicating women. Annie Lennox’s androgyny and the regal beauty of Ms. Franklin are noted as they sing: “Now this is a song to celebrate the conscious liberation of the female state! … The ‘inferior sex’ got a new exterior. We got doctors, lawyers, politicians too.” The screen aside these women adds images to their words by displaying the ways women used to be portrayed followed by images of women in power. On a smaller scale Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” tells us,“Some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world. I want to be the one to walk in the sun,” as Lon Chaney steals a woman and runs off with her with the 1923 Hunchback of Notre Dame playing in the background. Also in this video, Cyndi Lauper thwarts representations of patriarchal authority, something that Pat Benatar did in her video “Love is a Battlefield” from the same year.

Cyndi Lauper and Pat Benatar rebel against the symbols of male repression. Both videos feature the father, who not only stands for authority but also is symbolic of the most rudimentary forms of patriarchal repression. As Captain Lou Albano wags his finger in her face, Cyndi turns it around and places her father in a submissive position as she giggles and walks off. Pat Benatar continues this by running away from her repressive father and navigating the male dominated streets of the urban jungle. Her video brings light to the seedy sex clubs indicative of early 80’s Times Square, NYC. Women are fondled and ogled as blank expressions crossed their faces, only ended by mobilizing the women and rebelling against the male “boss” and other oppressors. Without the visual storytelling of the video, these songs would tell a very different tale.

Women in 1980s videos offered a motley crew of visual representations. Annie Lennox and Tracy Chapman’s androgyny, Cyndi Lauper and Jane Child’s uniqueness, and Tina Turner and Jodi Watley’s sensuality brightened the rainbow of women. Most of these women broadened definitions of beauty by showing that women didn’t “have to take our clothes off to have a good time.” On a more three-dimensional level, these videos added the faces of working women. Between the 1970s and 1980s the percentage of women entering the workforce surged and women such as Dolly Parton, Donna Summer, and Chrissie Hynde gave visual representation to the working woman and the struggles of getting by amid a massive recession.

If Dolly Parton’s 1980 song “9 to 5” seems the most obvious pick for discussing working women, I believe Donna Summer best represents the double burden of women’s work in “She Works Hard for the Money.” While the title says a lot, the efficacy is erased without the video. The lyrics address a hard working woman who makes an honest living but the video takes it a step further. In doing so, the idea is driven home that this woman must work multiple jobs to make ends meet and her double shift continues when she gets home. This suggests several things, such as women possibly having to work multiple jobs to make the same money as a man as well as the idea that women’s work is twofold and does not end inside her home. Conversely, the simplicity of Tracy Chapman’s video for “Fast Car” serves to reinforce the lyrics of her intoxicating, compelling words. Sitting against a black and blue background wearing a black turtleneck, the viewer is systematically directed to the movement generated by the words falling out of her mouth and to the emotion on her face. Her quiet strength speaks volumes about the story of a woman taking on the challenges of her socioeconomic status.

Finally, key women musicians of the 80s defined their characterizations of love, relationships, and sexuality. Tina Turner was nearly 45 years old when she dominated in the 1984 song “What’s Love Got to do With It.” Her stunning beauty and sensuality commanded the streets of her video as she compelled the actions of the men and women around her. It appeared as if the men wanted to be with her and the women wanted to be her. Through this video, Tina challenged ageist ideas about women’s sensuality while touting that emotions are secondary to physicality. On a spectrum ranging from Janet Jackson’s 1986 ballad “Let’s Wait Awhile” to Samantha Fox’s racier song “Touch Me,” women dictated the terms of their relationships. Ms. Jackson emphasized the rituals of courtship and togetherness in her video while Samantha Fox stressed more primitive drives. Within these videos, the women portray images of what is important to them in their relationships. Minus the Janet Jackson video which depicts a woman dictating a slower pace, the others support a positive portrayal of pro-sex feminist ideas. While these women offered a variety of images representing love and sexuality, Suzanne Vega does even more important work by putting a face on the more nefarious side of relationships.

In the video for her song, “Luka,” Suzanne Vega is shot in simple fashion as a diminutive character who shrinks as she tells her story of domestic violence. Vega wrote the song from the perspective of a child being abused. The truth of hiding child abuse and domestic violence is represented by the video being shot in black and white, allowing Luka to blend in to the background hoping to go unnoticed so that no one asks questions. The secrets, shame, and guilt that lead people to hide their torment are assumed in the way Luka tries to be a part of the scenery. The work of “Luka” is important so that people can have a face to relate to while bringing light to a vital women’s issue (women are often the survivors of domestic violence) not easily solved. Discussion is the first defense against isolation, for with it comes visibility and belonging.

I never loved the categorization of waves of feminism because of their reductive implications, but many people tend to understand the history of women this way. That being said, the ladies of the 80s in music videos represented the ideas best understood in the second wave of feminism such as sexuality, family, and the workplace. They dressed how they wanted, rebelled against authority, laid down the rules, and they were loved by many of us for showing a broader representation of what it means to be a woman in the 80s. They used their own images and the stories of the women in their videos to show that much had been accomplished but there was still work to be done. While we can give the finger to “the man” we still gotta work hard(er) for the money.

Gwen Hofmann is currently a PhD student in the History Department at Lehigh University. She is working on her dissertation involving representations of the cruel child in popular culture. She is the co-creator of the website www.HorrorHomeroom.com and is a devoted fangirl of all things 80s.

‘Jem and the Holograms’: Diversity and Female Empowerment

What I didn’t remember, and was pleasantly surprised by, was all of the diversity present in the show and the incredibly positive female role models that it presented to its young viewers. … It offered a positive statement on cultural acceptance and feminine strength at a time when children’s programming was lacking in both areas (and often still is today).

This guest post written by Horrorella appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s.

Jem and the Holograms was a pivotal part of my childhood. I watched it religiously. I couldn’t get enough of Jem and her rock star cohorts. The music, the characters, the stories – I ate it up like the candy-colored mountain of awesome that it was. I had a chance to revisit the series as an adult when I received the complete series box set as a birthday gift (note – it is SO gloriously pink). I poured some Cap’n Crunch cereal and sat down to revisit this show that had brought me so much joy in true Saturday Morning Cartoon fashion.

Reconnecting with this series was an incredibly fun experience, albeit a surprising one. I remembered Jem and her friends getting into scrapes, playing concerts, and trying to outwit the Misfits’ dastardly plans. I remembered the foster girls that found a home and a family at Starlight House and who were overseen by the band members. I remembered the conflict that Jem/Jerrica dealt with in keeping her true identity a secret from the world, and the resulting friction that created with her boyfriend Rio. I even remembered some of the songs.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkQE5wuBFeY”]

What I didn’t remember, and was pleasantly surprised by, was all of the diversity present in the show and the incredibly positive female role models that it presented to its young viewers. Though often criticized as being little more than a vehicle to promote the Hasbro line of dolls that had inspired the series, the show was actually so much more. It offered a positive statement on cultural acceptance and feminine strength at a time when children’s programming was lacking in both areas (and often still is today).

The Holograms celebrated an ethnically and culturally diverse group of characters who came from a variety of different backgrounds. Though Jerrica and Kimber were biological sisters, band members Aja (an Asian woman) and Shana (a Black woman) were adopted by the Benton family as children. Later, as the band expanded, a Latina drummer called Raya was added to the mix. This theme went on to include the foster girls populating Starlight House. Ba Nee, for example, a little girl involved in several major plot threads throughout the series, had been born to a Vietnamese woman and an American soldier before immigrating to the United States. The series took the time to showcase these cultural and ethnic differences, highlighting different traditions and backgrounds while also bringing the characters together as a united family.

Series creator Christy Marx stated in an interview with Off Hollywood that ethnic diversity was important to her when developing the characters. She wanted to be sure that all girls watching the show had someone to identify with, and made that a core goal as she began to develop the expanded cast. This was definitely a rarity among 1980s animated programming, and is something that made Jem and the Holograms stand out among its contemporaries.

Juxtaposed with our heroes, we have The Misfits – the nemesis band of the Holograms who are constantly trying to derail any project our heroes might be working on in order to stay on top. They are comprised fully of white women, and the leader, Pizzazz, comes from a particularly privileged background. Raised in an affluent lifestyle, spoiled, constantly angry, and dedicated to nothing more than getting her way by any means necessary, Pizzazz is the embodiment of entitlement. She will do anything within her power to stay on top.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7r6-Ie0un84″]

In many ways, The Misfits represent the privileged status quo. They came to stardom before the Holograms, and are determined not to give up their spot on top. They refuse to make way or share that space with anyone else. They demand a level of treatment they feel is in keeping with their status as rockstars, and care little for anyone besides themselves (Stormer is often the exception to this rule, as she proves early on to have a heart, yet is easily bullied and influenced by her bandmates). The Misfits are simply another example of the people in power remaining in power, while everyone else has to struggle to get by.

Conversely, the Holograms can be seen to embody a more ideal future; something to strive for. Inclusive, and aiming not for fame and fortune, but for acceptance, integrity, and the greater good. Their songs have meaning and a positive message, often focusing on teamwork, fair play and the like. They lead by example, and offer a blueprint for what we could be, rather than what we often are.

The feminism and the female empowerment in the series is also incredibly meaningful and noteworthy. Jerrica/Jem is an icon, both within the story and for the show’s legions of young fans. Not for her fame or for being the rockstar with the cool clothes and the pink hair (though, admittedly, the pink hair was pretty rad), but for being a successful, confident and capable woman. She was a different kind of role model for a little girl growing up in the 1980s. We tend to focus on the fashion and the music present in the show, but more importantly, Jem gave us a powerful and successful female character to look up to. In her, we found a character who was in charge of her own destiny. An intelligent, savvy business woman who maintained not only a record company, but a nonprofit that housed, cared for, and provided a supportive home for foster children. In Jerrica, we see a balance of a woman who is able to achieve professional, financial, and artistic success, while also contributing positively and meaningfully to the world around her.

Marx says:

“The thing I like about Jem and Jerrica is that she’s kick ass in how she cares about this entire household full of foster girls, or she’s kick ass because she has this musical career, or she’s a music executive. She’s someone who is strong and independent and directs her own life.”

Marx also notes that though the series, its fashion, and its technology are all very 80s, the stories still speak to us even today. They have a timelessness to them that allows them to carry on. And as much as last year’s film revival was a raging disaster, the silver lining is that the values and power of the property have found a new embodiment reaching a new generation in the form of the IDW’s comic series. The books take the characters, stories, and concepts that made the original series so important and meaningful and bring them forward into the modern era, with continued racial diversity, varied body types, and sexual orientations; a swath of powerful, well-developed female characters and new adventures.

Jem and the Holograms impacted its fan base in a way that few series of the time (or since) were able to. Through building a cast and a series of stories that reflected the people watching it, it connected with its audience in an entirely new way. It provided the viewers with a positive female role model who was strong and powerful in ways not typically seen on television, and certainly not in children’s programming. Jem and the Holograms influenced a generation, and the lessons we learned from that show and its stories were taken with us into adulthood. Hopefully, its new incarnation will continue to do the same for new legions of fans.

See also at Bitch Flicks: Was ‘Jem and the Holograms’ a Good Show for Little Girls?

Horrorella has written about film for Ain’t it Cool News, the Women in Horror Annual and on her blog at horrorella.com. She geeks out incessantly over movies, television, comics and kitties. You can gab with her on Twitter @horrorellablog.

‘A Different World’ Shook Up My World

‘A Different World’ will forever hold a special place in my life. …It became my North Star to an experience largely foreign to me — undergraduate life. It gave me insight into the strength gained from friendships with Black women. … Seeing images of young, gifted, and Black women pursuing higher education at a historically Black college or university (HBCU) shaped my vision for my life.

This guest post written by Shara D. Taylor appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s.

The 1980s hit series A Different World will forever hold a special place in my life. Set at the fictional, historically Black school Hillman College, it became my North Star to an experience largely foreign to me — undergraduate life. It gave me insight into the strength gained from friendships with Black women. It provided me with a reason to focus on my schoolwork, even when I found myself spending an inordinate amount of time in the principal’s office.

As my mom tells it, she raised me to think college was the natural next step after high school. Despite having no one else in my family who had completed a bachelor’s degree, I never considered other options. She probably didn’t know it then, but her efforts came with reinforcements in the form of a Thursday night TV show. I knew my life probably would resemble the lives of the students at Hillman, though it meant following an obscure path made brighter by these representations.

Because of A Different World, a spin-off of The Cosby Show, I didn’t see the obstacles ahead of me. I didn’t listen to the teachers who predicted doom and gloom for my future. Instead, I listened to southern belle Whitley Gilbert (Jasmine Guy) when she explained how her grandfather learned to love himself during his time at Hillman. I paid attention when the earthy Freddie Brooks (Cree Summer) extolled the need to remember history after discovering a stop on the Underground Railroad behind a wall in the Gilbert Hall dorm. It still gives me goose bumps when I reflect on that episode.

When pre-med student Kimberly Reese (Charnele Brown) stretched herself too thinly with her classes, jobs, and extracurricular activities, Freddie and Kim’s other friends forced her to party when she really wanted to study. She woke up exhausted the next day, but managed to ace her exams.

Jaleesa Vinson (Dawnn Lewis), an older Hillman student who had been married and divorced before enrolling, played big sister to a lively group of early 20-somethings. She often butted heads with the spoiled Whitley whose divorced, Hillman alumni parents gave her everything she wanted without teaching her any responsibility. Over time, their relationship grew into one of mutual respect, though they still worked each other’s nerves.

I couldn’t describe it as a youngster, but I recognized the complexities in these relationships. I figured my life might be like theirs some day, so I paid close attention.

While writing this piece, I thought about the images of Black women that had appeared on television prior to A Different World’s premiere in 1987. I couldn’t find one example of a group of young, Black girlfriends finding their way in life while walking on the wobbly bridge into womanhood. To be sure, other Black women had shared friendships on the small screen before A Different World’s debut. In the 1970s, there were Florida Evans and Willona Woods on Good Times and Louise Jefferson and Helen Willis on The Jeffersons. In the 1980s, the women of 227 — Mary Jenkins, Rose Lee Holloway, Pearl Shay, and Sandra Clark — supported each other as adults. However, all of these women lived more stable lives than college students.

We saw more representations of young, Black women throughout the 1990s and 2000s in Living Single, Moesha, and Girlfriends. For me, none matched the camaraderie that I felt with the characters on A Different World.

Although my love of the show began when I was only four years old, it sustained me through my rough middle school years when I landed myself in the principal’s office several times per week. In high school, my main goal was to get to college with as few visits to the principal as possible. Somewhere along the way, I absorbed A Different World and its rich characters into my bloodstream. Seeing images of young, gifted, and Black women pursuing higher education at a historically Black college or university (HBCU) shaped my vision for my life. As a child, I knew for sure that I wanted to continue my education at a school like Hillman.

I remember the day I told my mom that I planned to attend Howard University (HU!). I was a junior in high school. A substitute teacher in my Algebra II class suggested it when I told her about my desire to study business at an HBCU. I went home that afternoon, searched Howard’s website, and decided it fit my criteria. That evening, I walked into my mom’s room and declared my intentions. She fell silent for a minute. “I can guarantee you one year. You have to figure out the rest,” she replied. I accepted her challenge. I knew I’d get to Howard somehow; my Hillman friends-in-my-head had convinced me of it.

Throughout my time as an undergrad, I often stood in awe of my peers and what I saw them accomplishing. At Howard, the women on campus held leadership positions in student government, social justice organizations, and pre-professional associations. My female classmates pushed me to be a better woman, a better friend, and a better global citizen. As if on cue, they offered encouragement when I needed it most and reality checks when I lost my way. The women of Hillman did the same for each other. They shared their triumphs and disappointments in their careers and their love lives. They uplifted each other when the outside world tried to belittle their existence for being Black and woman. They wouldn’t stand for it and neither would my Howard people.

In 2015, I celebrated my 10-year Howard class reunion with a couple hundred of my beautiful classmates. Nothing could have prepared me for the swell of love and pride I felt being back on campus. I have yet to find another environment as nurturing and supportive as the one at Howard.

Many years after my trying adolescence, my mom asked me how I managed to keep up my grades despite my rebellious behavior. I explained that being smart and being “cool” were never mutually exclusive in my mind. She and I can thank A Different World for that.

Every Thursday for six years, I watched my future self and my future classmates laugh and cry and dance across my screen. I’m not sure where I would’ve landed without Whitley and Freddie or Kim and Jaleesa. I don’t know where I’d be without the women of Howard University who continue to inspire me.

I’ve determined how I exist in this world through them. For that, I’m eternally grateful.

Shara D. Taylor watches films to break the monotony of her raging urban planner lifestyle. Her interests include Hip-Hop, A Different World, Back to the Future, and everything directed by Ava DuVernay. You can send her pleasant tweets @sharas_soapbox.

Superheroines of Color and Empowerment in Fantasy on TV

It’s a rare sight to see women of color as superheroes, but rarest, probably, on television. … Superheroines are important. … Why can’t we have a Black or Asian or Latina or Arab or Native heroine acting as a universal hero for all girls of all races? Why must white continue to be the universal standard and everyone else is relegated to a niche audience? People of color want the empowerment fantasy too.

This guest post written by Constance Gibbs appears as part of our theme week on Superheroines.

It’s a rare sight to see women of color as superheroes, but rarest, probably, on television. There are so many books and indie movies and even half-hearted attempts in mainstream superhero movies, but television has been starving for women of color superheroes for a while now. A google search of “Women of Color on Superhero Television” gives one result of a woman of color from a superhero TV show among the top 15 results — Iris West — who doesn’t actually fight crime.

Two of the most popular superheroines of color — Wonder Woman’s Linda Carter (whose mother was of Mexican descent) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Chloe Bennett (nee Wang) — aren’t even acknowledged as such because of Hollywood pressure to change or hide their ethnicity. There are only a handful of others: Ming-Na Wen’s Agent May on S.H.I.E.L.D. kicks enough ass to be considered a super, but Daredevil’s anti-hero Elektra — spoiler alert — doesn’t even survive the end of the season. There was a blink and you miss it episode of The Flash where Linda Park became the anti-villain Doctor Light and Vixen’s equally quick appearance on Arrow, (which we’ll talk about later). That’s about it.

We know it’s hard for women superheroes in general. Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel are still a ways off, the Black Widow movie has been consistently teased but never confirmed, Agent Carter just got cancelled, Supergirl went from a Top 4 network to The CW (admittedly the superhero network), and Jessica Jones still doesn’t have an action figure. Ultimately, none of these examples have been intersectional or inclusive of women of color. This photo of the crew for Wonder Woman shows exactly the problem.

If you squint, you can count the women of color on one hand. The “Where’s Phillipus?” twitter hashtag showed that people are paying attention to the lack of women of color on their screens. We, of course, want equity between men and women in these franchises, but women of color must be included in the conversation.

Superheroines are important. The desire for women to be seen as heroes, as strong, as capable, as desired, as everything transcends race. But when women of color are constantly told they have to wait or aren’t given the same chances, it does the same thing as when it’s men vs. women. While white women want Black Widow, women of color want characters with speaking roles. In terms of television, just because Supergirl and Jessica Jones exist, doesn’t mean that there is no room for a woman of color to have a superhero series too. Look at what Supergirl does for Girl Scouts.

The Super Girl Scouts of Oklahoma dropped by National City today… #girlscouts

A photo posted by Melissa Benoist (@melissabenoist) on Aug 20, 2015 at 6:24pm PDT

Why can’t we have a Black or Asian or Latina or Arab or Native heroine acting as a universal hero for all girls of all races? Why must white continue to be the universal standard and everyone else is relegated to a niche audience? People of color want the empowerment fantasy too.

In this early Atlantic article about Kamala Khan’s debut, the writer says that the new Ms. Marvel, Kamala Khan, is getting to live out the “empowerment fantasy.” She is a young kid, who is teased for her religion and her nerdiness and who aches to fit in and one night she gets to become Ms. Marvel, one of her favorite heroes. The empowerment fantasy, which white heroes have gotten to live out for decades (centuries if we’re honest), lets people who aren’t in positions of power to see themselves as heroes, to envision themselves as someone worth looking up to. This is something women of color struggle with on a daily basis. As a Black woman, we are the highest educated, but are paid $20,000 less than white men and the statistic that Black women are the least messaged and least preferred on dating sites come to mind. Women of color are fetishized or ignored. It’s no wonder that this has currently translated to superheroine fiction.

Television is the best medium for this problem to be fixed. TV moves a little bit faster than movies do. It’s still one year before Wonder Woman, and two years before we get Captain Marvel and both have been in production and pre-production for years already. A television pilot written in the fall, on the other hand, could be on air the following fall. Sadly, my hopes are not high. After the way women on science-fiction/fantasy shows were treated this season (most notably Abbie Mills of Sleepy Hollow, as close to a superheroine woman of color lead we had), and with the lack of women of color in superhero shows so far next season, it doesn’t seem we’re getting a woman of color lead anytime soon.

Which is a shame, because television is most suited to telling comic stories, which are often episodic and involve long arcs and tons of character development. The Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) is great, but there are small moments between characters or within the stories they tell that TV tells better. We get to spend more time with these characters. The Nerds of Color article on the failures of X-Men: Apocalypse with regard to its three women of color heroes and villains, points out that Storm (Alexandra Shipp) is underused, as is Olivia Munn’s Psylocke, and Jubilee (Lana Condor) doesn’t even display her powers in the film — those scenes apparently got cut. While television isn’t perfect — at all — there is still more of an opportunity for those characters to get their day in the spotlight. Then, the fans have a chance to fight for that character to get more screentime — see the increase of Felicity Smoak on Arrow and the improvement in writing for Iris West on The Flash. Television tells in depth stories better, we are able to truly live the empowerment fantasy with these characters, feeling their successes and struggles on a weekly basis (or mainlined into our bloodstream during a 3am binge session).

We do have some upcoming women of color supers coming to a TV show near you: Simone Missick is playing Misty Knight on Luke Cage this fall; Jessica Henwick will be playing Colleen Wing on Iron Fist — which has it’s own separate issues with race; we may get more Linda Park on The Flash, based on *spoiler* the finale hitting some sort of reset button; and hopefully Supergirl hears its fans and adds a woman of color as a superhero. As we know, however, this isn’t enough. None of these ladies are leading their shows, some are barely recurring characters.

What women of color can we get to headline a superheroine TV series? The two shows I think have the closest chance right now of becoming women of color led superhero shows are Vixen and Ms. Marvel. Both are already a part of established TV universes. Vixen’s 30 minute (total — 5 minute episodes over 6 weeks) cartoon debut on CW Seed led to an appearance on Arrow last season (with, hopefully, a visit to The Flash’s Central City in the future), and Ms. Marvel could definitely be a teen show set in the same Marvel Television Universe (connected, however distantly, to their movie verse).

With Vixen, there is already an actress attached to the role, Megalyn Echikunwoke, and if you saw her live-action debut, she was fantastic (even if the sloppily-written backdoor pilot dialogue was not). Her experience connects to the mainstream American woman — someone living in America, trying to make sense of her foreign/immigrant roots, trying to live her best life, while also trying to be brave and strong and a hero. Seeing her overcome her trials, while also kicking ass with the strength of an elephant or the flight of a bird would be awesome. This year, at The CW Upfronts, it was announced there would be a season two on CW Seed, but what about her live action version? Does she not deserve an hour of live-action like her DC TV Universe compatriots? (Let’s be honest, Legends of Tomorrow totally could have been a cartoon on CW Seed.) If there’s no room in the schedule, a live-action Vixen could air on Fridays, during mid-season hiatus for the four main shows, or in the summer. The fact is, she deserves as much of a chance as Green Arrow received, as much support as Supergirl. Let her story be a universal empowerment fantasy for women, but inclusive of the experiences of women of non-white descent.

With Netflix’s Defenders-verse of grown-up, M-for-mature supers, I think that Netflix is long overdue for some teen supers. 10 episodes of South Asian, Muslim teenage Kamala Khan trying to fit in at school and save Jersey City, just across the river from Matt Murdock and Jessica Jones. Plus, like Wolverine in the comics, the adults could crossover into Kamala’s world every so often, giving advice and mentoring the young, new superhero. It’s all one big MCU, right? Kamala’s story is the classic teen show, filled with boy, body, and parental angst, but also the hope of getting past all that. She’s a superhero!! She saves her city and her friends on a regular basis! For a young girl, but especially for a young girl of color, this is something to look up to. Something to make you feel like, “if Kamala can do all of that and stop that villain, I can probably get through junior year.” The same thing that Supergirl’s Kara Danvers does for young girls, Kamala could also do — on Netflix.

These are hardly the only characters deserving of a lead role on a TV show, just the ones closest to the door. The difference between diversity and inclusivity is diversity is being invited to a party, inclusivity is being asked to dance. No one is asking women of color to dance yet. Vixen twirled with a jock and his nerdy friend on the dance floor for a whole song, but is now the wallflower waiting for her next invitation. Daisy Johnson and Agent May are turning up, but they’re looking around for some friends to form a dance circle. Misty Knight is still on-line outside the gym, the principal is checking her ticket because she’s from another school. Linda Park got asked to dance, but no one’s seen her since. When these girls aren’t asked to dance, no one wants to come to the next dance. This hurts their self-esteem and it the dance isn’t nearly as fun. I’ll stop with the metaphor, but I hope you understand what I mean. Lack of diversity and inclusion doesn’t just hurt those excluded, it hurts everyone.

We have to force action. We have to support the ladies of color we do have in superhero fiction and demand for more. We have to tell the producers when we are upset about the treatment of a woman of color — even when they don’t listen, ahem, Sleepy Hollow. And in the face of resistance, we have to go out there and write our own. We have to see the lack of empowerment fantasies to inspire us and create it ourselves for the future. That’s what the original superhero comic writers did; many of those Jewish writers came from a post-World War II world and saw that they needed to empower themselves after all the tragedy they faced. It’s time television reflected our struggles and our ability to overcome them. If they won’t let us in the door, we’ll just have to kick it down. We are superheroines, after all.

Constance Gibbs is a nerd culture writer, editor, aspiring TV writer, and Hufflepuff living in New York City. She is the Black Girl Nerds TV Editor and has written for The Nerds of Color, The Mary Sue, and Hello Giggles. You can find her mostly on Twitter (@ConStar24) or her website constarwrites.tv.

Stop the Fridging: The Invisible Feminism of ‘Arrow’

So while ‘Arrow’ seems pretty reluctant to move away from the traditional stance on women existing to be love interests and to be rescued, the individual female characters themselves sometimes show some hints of progressiveness… if only they’d be allowed to live long enough!

This guest post written by Becky Kukla appears as part of our theme week on Superheroines. | Spoilers ahead for seasons 1-3.

Is TV series Arrow feminist? Being brutally honest, it almost certainly is not. Does Arrow have characters with feminist undertones, or female characters with more depth than meets the eye? Well, that’s where it gets more interesting.

The premise of Arrow reads incredibly similarly to that of Batman; rich and spoiled son of millionaire family undergoes a grueling, life-changing event which forces him to become a ‘good guy’ (unlike the playboy he was once) to save his city. Pre-Arrow Oliver Queen (Stephen Amell) is a cheater, drug-taker, party-goer, and generally not a great guy. He is the epitome of the whole silver spoon thing, and not only this but he treats everyone in his life terribly. His parents (as he later learns) are both semi-responsible for a plot to destroy the poorest parts of Starling City, and this becomes his motivation to try and right the wrongs that his father (and his mother) did. It’s also clear that pre-Arrow Oliver didn’t have a lot of respect for women — cheating on his then girlfriend Laurel, with her sister Sara — and consequently almost getting himself and Sara killed in the boating accident that left him stranded on an island.

So where am I going with this? All things considered — Arrow is clearly not going to win any feminist awards any time soon. This is mostly because pretty much every single female character in the show is either related to Oliver (Moira, Thea) or has been romantically involved with him in some way (Helena, Laurel, Sara, Felicity, Shado, and Isabel have all had romantic relations with Oliver to some degree). The show also has a worrying trend of having its villains use the women characters as some sort of bait. I’m only on season three, but poor Laurel has been kidnapped 4 times since the show started! However, the representation of female heroism in Arrow starts to get a little more interesting from the end of season 1 with the introduction of at least 3 superheroine-type characters. Oliver also regularly comes into contact with supervillains, many of whom are women.

So while Arrow seems pretty reluctant to move away from the traditional stance on women existing to be love interests and to be rescued, the individual female characters themselves sometimes show some hints of progressiveness… if only they’d be allowed to live long enough!

Shado

Chronologically, the first superheroine to appear in Arrow is Shado (Celina Jade). Technically, she isn’t actually a superheroine, but she is certainly super and saves Oliver’s life several times on the island so I think it’s safe to put in the category of superheroine. Shado is the daughter of Yao Fai — the man who first rescues Oliver when he is dying on the island. Her main reason for existence seems to be to ensure that her father toes the line, otherwise she will be killed. However, Shado quickly reveals that she is every bit as tough as her father when it comes to fighting — and single handedly rescues Slade and Oliver from certain death. She then goes on to teach Ollie pretty much everything he knows, including the whole slapping the water thing, and generally being useful with a bow and arrow. Shado is tough and strong, she’s obviously had some intense training and she’s a pretty cool character in general. That is, until two things happen. First, Oliver falls in love with her. We can understand this from Oliver’s perspective — at this point, he still behaves somewhat like the playboy he once was and in general terms, Shado is the only woman he has been in contact with in a long while. The issue is that 1) Shado falls for him (he’s a spoiled brat, ammiright!?) and that Slade also falls for Shado. Instead of seeing Shado as the strong and tough woman that she is, she becomes steadily reduced to the crux of an odd love triangle with one immature playboy and a man old enough to be her father.

Shado is also brutally murdered when Ivan forces Oliver to choose between saving her or Sara. This is the first of many ‘choose between two women you love’ scenarios that are set up for Oliver throughout the series, and this one is quite possibly the worst. Oliver doesn’t so much as choose Shado, but the whole event sends Slade spiraling into revenge city where he blames Oliver for the murder of the ‘love of his life.’ Reality check here; Shado is only the love of his life because Slade literally knew no other women. And also, she didn’t even love him back. Either way, Shado’s death is the sole reason for pretty much all of the events in the second season — so I guess it might be the most successful fridging of all time?

Fridging itself is boring, old, and a great waste of time but it feels even worse when you have a really wonderful female character with huge potential, who is killed only to further the storyline of a male character. It also doesn’t help that Shado was also murdered so that Sara (another superheroine type) could live. Which brings me to…

Sara (The Canary)

Sara (Caity Lotz), sister of Laurel and part-time lover of Oliver, was presumed dead along with Oliver when their boat sank off the coast of the island. Imagine everyone’s surprise when it turns out (like Oliver) Sara actually survived and is back in Starling City, also fighting crime. Imagine our even greater surprise when Sara turns out to be a fighting machine, fresh from The League of Assasins. Surprise!

Our first actual introduction to the new and improved Sara 2.0, is as her alter ego (fondly named The Canary). She saves a woman from a group of menacing looking men in a dark alleyway. I don’t believe this is by accident. Sara also takes care of Sin, Roy’s friend from The Glades, and it’s this protection of the women around her that make Sara an almost-feminist superheroine. As soon as her and Oliver are reunited in Starling City, it becomes immediately clear that Sara has been through a bit of a wringer – possibly even more so than Oliver. Sara (at some point in the last five years) was taken in by The League of Assassins and is riddled with guilt and anger about some of the things she was made to do whilst under their command. Sara wants to let her parents and Laurel know she is alive, but she is consumed by the things she has done to survive and is convinced she isn’t worthy of love from anyone — even her own family.

As we see in flashbacks, Sara was incredibly savvy to survive her ordeal aboard what was essentially an illegal prison ship. She knew how to play the game, and waited patiently for an opportunity to escape. Though her and Oliver reunited on the island, Sara has clearly changed and is prepared to do whatever is necessary to survive. The Sara that returns to Starling City five years later is equally prepared to do what is necessary – and this causes friction with Oliver’s sudden ‘no killing’ rule. Similarly to how Oliver’s family are often used as bait to coax him into situations as the Arrow, Sara’s family are also kidnapped and used as bait when The League of Assassins try to force Sara to rejoin them. Of course, it is the women members of Sara’s family that are kidnapped (her mother and Laurel).

Sadly, Sara’s story comes to an incredibly abrupt and untimely end. She makes it a few minutes into season 3 before she is killed, as witnessed by Laurel. For a character who had so much potential, and a captivating backstory — her demise was a little more than cold on behalf of the writers.

Felicity Smoak

Ah, Felicity Smoak . Poor, lovely Felicity. Oddball, geeky Felicity (played by Emily Bett Rickards) who somehow went from obscure computer girl to the object of Oliver’s affections within about thirty seconds at the end of season 2. Felicity is employed at Queen Consolidated (Oliver’s family’s company), and consequently joins team Arrow when Oliver realizes a) how smart she is and b) that she knows too much to not be on the team. If Diggle, Roy, and Oliver are the brawn of the group then Felicity is certainly the brain. She is proficient at hacking, tracking, and generally getting into other people’s computers or CCTV cameras when she shouldn’t be.

Something really odd happens to Felicity between working in the IT department in the basement of QC, and becoming part of team Arrow. It has a lot to do with the way she dresses. When Felicity is at QC, she dresses… well for work. She looks comfortable, she is wearing flats and she looks smart but not overdressed. As soon as Felicity begins working with Team Arrow, she is suddenly turning up to their basement lair in five inch heels and a dress suitable for a nightclub scenario. You could argue she is trying to blend in (the lair is situated underneath Oliver’s nightclub) but I can’t help thinking it’s more to do with Felicity (as the only recurring woman in Team Arrow) needing to be eye candy. Eye candy, which coincidentally ends up on Oliver’s arm. Which in itself isn’t inherently an issue, but Felicity’s character then became far less about her abilities and talents in the IT department — and far more about her relationship with Oliver. Apparently, as a woman, you cannot have both a career and a boyfriend.

I am only on the third season of Arrow but I’ve heard rumors that not many good things happen beyond that. Moira’s death at the end of the second season seemed to serve only to motivate both Oliver and Thea onward, which is just truly original use of fridging by the show’s writers. I guess the saddest thing about it is that Arrow has (or had) some truly unique and interesting female characters, but refused to do anything worthwhile with them.

How Hawkgirl Saved Me

This is about my favorite chess-playing, mace-wielding, war-crying, winged superheroine role model: Shayera Hol. … Hawkgirl taught me to be observant. She taught me that it’s possible to come through trying times. She taught me that being able to think was just as important as being able to fight, and that good and evil aren’t always absolutes.

This guest post written by Maggie Slutzker appears as part of our theme week on Superheroines.

As a teenager, I was strictly a DC girl. My comic collection was World’s Finest, the Justice League, and everything Batman. I loved Justice League, Batman the Animated Series, Batman Beyond, and just about all of the accompanying movies. In my twenties, I still look back to those books and even watch those movies on occasion. I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve had, as an adult, about Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. (If you don’t know who Andrea Beaumont is, you need to check it out.)

But something’s happened to DC. They just can’t seem to get it together. They have embraced that gritty “realist” style that’s so fitting of Batman, and yet they seem to have forgotten the core values of their most prominent heroes. When I was fourteen, nothing would have made me happier than a Batman/Superman movie. And for Wonder Woman to be involved? I would have cried sweet tears of joy. My friends and I would have flocked to the theatre, and then celebrated afterward by watching all the animated movies.

Now, things are different. When DC announced Batman v. Superman, I only felt worry in the pit of my stomach — worry that, I might add, turned out to be completely justified. (Killing off Mercy Graves before we’ve even been introduced to her? Why don’t you kill all my hopes and dreams before I live them, too?) And with a Wonder Woman movie on the horizon, well, I have my hopes…but I know better than to expect greatness from DC’s live action movies anymore.

Does it sound like I take comics too seriously? Maybe so. Definitely so. But if you’re a fan yourself, you can understand how important heroes are, and the part they play in our lives. So while I’m apprehensively excited for (FINALLY) a Wonder Woman movie, this isn’t going to be about her. This is about my favorite chess-playing, mace-wielding, war-crying, winged superheroine role model: Shayera Hol.

Hawkgirl.

Say it too fast and it sounds like you’re saying “hot girl.” This was very frustrating to me as a kid when I tried to tell people who my favorite superhero was. Sometimes I would just give up and say “Batman,” because technically I knew more about him anyway. But my entire obsession with superheroes and comics stemmed from watching the Justice League cartoon, and loving Hawkgirl. Let me clarify here and now that the Hawkgirl I’m talking about is the hero from the TV series, and not the comics. When I became a fan, it was about 2005. At that time, I really wasn’t interested in learning about Hawkman. I couldn’t find a lot of comics that were solely about Hawkgirl, and when she was involved she wasn’t quite the Hawkgirl I knew from the cartoons. I had the damnedest time finding Hawkgirl action figures, which I was only able to track down at theme parks and the Toys R Us at Times Square. And why was she Hawkgirl instead of Hawkwoman? I can’t speak to that. Still, I loved her so much.

Martian Manhunter couldn’t read her mind. Batman couldn’t beat her at chess. Dr. Fate’s magic couldn’t touch her. Even Aquaman, that irritable Atlantean snob, had a healthy respect for her. She wielded her Nth metal mace with a war cry. She saw faith as a crutch, a sort of oppression, and she expressed confusion about it to Wonder Woman and Aquaman. She stood up to the evil god Exthultu when he came for Earth and Solomon Grundy’s soul. Her bond with Solomon Grundy would later draw her back to the show, after being cast out.

Wonder Woman was the explicitly feminist character on Justice League, and in a way one could argue that Hawkgirl was made out to be the stereotypical “cool girl” of the group. Some might say she was the yellow Power Ranger to Wonder Woman’s pink, but their personalities and their relationship developed beyond that. Both women were foreigners, but Wonder Woman was more warrior princess, where Hawkgirl saw herself as a soldier. While they were different, they were both always totally willing to go into battle for their friends, including each other. Hawkgirl had a stronger bond with the Flash, and of course, Green Lantern. She could also identify with Superman and Martian Manhunter, the other lost “aliens” of the group. And she had some of the best lines. When Wonder Woman said, “[Men] can’t possibly be that essential to your life,” Shayera said, “Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.” When, for the millionth time, Flash said he was the fastest man alive, she said, “Which might explain why you can’t get a date.” And, for Toonami fans who remember, “You think I need this mace to take you down?”

Hawkgirl also fell for John Stewart, the Green Lantern. Thanks to the Joker, their love was fulfilled, unlike that of Wonder Woman and Batman. Theirs was an interracial relationship, and while the show never mentions race or explicitly makes it a source of conflict, it was meaningful that it was shown and that fans became invested in it. The two came, literally, from different planets, but both were fighters with military experience, strategic minds, and truth to their own selves. For cartoon characters, they shared amazing chemistry.

Hawkgirl’s storyline on the show became more important as Justice League came to its end, and Justice League Unlimited began. (Amazing opportunity, or huge mistake? I’ll let you decide.) Within the confines of the TV series, Shayera Hol turned out to be a spy sent from her home planet, Thanagar. In “Starcrossed,” everything the Justice League has come to know and trust crashes down on them. Just in case there’s someone reading this who plans to watch the series, I won’t go too deep into detail. I will only say that Shayera has to choose between destroying her new home, Earth, and leaving her old home completely vulnerable to death in battle. To get critical, the writers made it a little too much about Hawkgirl choosing between two men, but as we know from popular YA fiction, movie producers can’t get enough of love triangles.

As someone who would later try her hand in fields related to justice, I was taught some important lessons by the “Starcrossed” episodes. The first is that, no matter what mask you wear, Batman will always know who you truly are. The second is that when you’re torn between two people, places, or situations that you care about equally, you must be able to objectively look at what is right, and what is wrong. When Hawkgirl realizes that Earth will be destroyed, she changes course completely. She makes this final decision without religious faith, without unfair bias, and, first and foremost, with the protection of Earth’s citizens in mind. We have human politicians who can’t even do that.

For all of her flaws and perceived treachery, Hawkgirl’s faith in her team inspired me. In the episode “In Blackest Night,” John Stewart is accused of an unthinkable crime. This is before any romance, and Hawkgirl isn’t the first of the group who is certain that John didn’t do it — that would be Superman, ever the boy scout. But when Hawkgirl leaves the courtroom to find that John’s friends deserted him, she’s enraged at their near-instant abandonment. She fights them, and not long after, the Green Lantern Kilowog goes to John’s defense. Something glossed over in the series is that Hawkgirl is a detective; that was her job on Thanagar. Hawkgirl follows and investigates a witness that she can immediately tell is a liar, and this is ultimately what saves John from a completely unbelievable mistake. (I have many more thoughts about this episode, mainly that the justice system in space is just as unorganized as the ones here on Earth.) She goes on to earn the respect of the entire Green Lantern Corps.

Because of her skill, her loyalty, and her ethics, nearly everyone Hawkgirl ever came into conflict with in a work-related capacity would eventually come to respect her. Aquaman, for instance. Dr. Fate. Amazo. Wonder Woman, twice. The Green Lanterns. The connections and reconnections she made after “Starcrossed” speaks volumes. And when her Hawkgirl disguise is no longer an option, Shayera becomes a superhero without an alternate identity: she is simply herself.

Watching Justice League enhanced my female friendships. I specifically mention female friendships because there’s an overarching idea that when young girls get into comics — and video games for that matter — they do it to impress boys. Nothing could be further from the truth. (The only boy who influenced my love of superheroes was my little brother, who as a three-year-old spent at least a year dressed as Batman. We still call my dad Robin.) I forced my friends to watch Justice League with me, because that’s just what I did with shows and books that I love. Guess what? They loved it, too. My best friend and I decided we were Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl.

My best friend and I had long debates about different episodes. We spent hours upon hours creating our ideal live-action cast. When Hawkgirl addressed that Wonder Woman had to be magic to fight in that outfit, we appreciated it. We definitely shipped Batman and Superman. And, since Netflix wasn’t an option, my whole family got involved when I watched Justice League and Justice League Unlimited every week. When I excitedly anticipated Shayera’s return to the show, they understood. My mother was particularly furious when Shayera and Green Lantern’s romance didn’t get neatly wrapped up. Super powers or not, a good story is a good story.

It’s simple, really. Hawkgirl and superheroes lead us to love and inspiration. Even as fictional characters, they give us hope. It means a lot to be guided in that direction by someone who in some way shares your identity. Hawkgirl taught me to be observant. She taught me that it’s possible to come through trying times. She taught me that being able to think was just as important as being able to fight, and that good and evil aren’t always absolutes.

And when all else fails, grab your electric mace.

Maggie Slutzker is a writer and feminist living in New York. Check out her Facebook page, “A Little Something for the Ladies,” or follow her on Twitter @suchaslutzker.