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In Praise of the Carnivalesque World of ‘Orange is the New Black’

Yet although the show deals with a number of important social issues, and contains naturalistic elements, its subversive, socio-political power lies in its vivid, carnivalesque interpretation of prison life. It contains heart-breaking incidents but it also honors endurance and joyous resistance. Celebrating individuality, personal expression, and sensual pleasures, ‘Orange is the New Black’ ultimately humanizes women who have been dehumanized.

Written by Rachael Johnson.

I went on one of those Netflix benders recently and consumed the entire first season of Orange is the New Black in a little less than 24 hours. A little late to the party, you might say, but my timing, I believe, is perfect. I do not have long to wait for my next binge. The show returns in June. For those who have yet to sign up, Orange is the New Black tells the unusual, colorful tale of Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling), a young, affluent, college-educated white woman incarcerated in a women’s prison in upstate New York. Piper is serving time for smuggling drug money a decade previously. The pretty, bourgeois life she has mapped out for herself–a loving fiancé, Larry (Jason Biggs), and business plans with her best friend–has been put on hold as her connection to her ex-girlfriend, and drug cartel member, Alex (Laura Prepon), has come back to haunt her. In fact, her past is made flesh in her new residence: the beautiful, exotic Alex is also an inmate. The show is based on Piper Kerman’s 2010 memoir, Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women’s Prison, yet although it addresses serious issues such as addiction and lack of prisoner training and education, the tone of the show is not, for the most part, dark. Created by Jenji Kohan, Orange is the New Black can safely be categorized as a comedy-drama. It is funny, subversive, and teaming with interesting and eccentric characters.

The show has been praised for its inclusiveness and diversity. Its large, predominantly female, multi-racial cast of characters and embrace of a multiplicity of femininities is impressive for an American television show. Piper, it is true, is the central character but Season One incorporate the stories of a number of her fellow inmates. There are interesting, well-drawn and outrageous characters of many backgrounds. All the women’s lives are interesting.

Orange is the New Black should also be celebrated for its vivid, humane appreciation of the female body in all its forms. The show features a life-affirming variety of female bodies: thin, voluptuous, boyish, corpulent, athletic, ailing, aging, pregnant, transgender, desiring, desirable, and celibate. The body is, in fact, one of the central themes of the show. This is not surprising. Prison depersonalizes and dehumanizes human bodies. The female inmates in the show are constantly watched, frequently searched and sometimes molested and exploited. As it is clear from the very first episode, looking after your basic physical needs is not easy in prison when the authorities do not supply basic items. The problem often demands creative solutions. Orange is the New Black depicts and celebrates acts of free expression by the incarcerated women that serve to challenge the constraints that the prison regime puts on their bodies. These include exercise, yoga, running and dance. Prison also, of course, seeks to silence the human voice, but speech and song provide self-affirmation for the inmates. Expressing sexual desire is also a manifestation of freedom and autonomy. It is, however, read as subversive by the authorities. When Piper dances suggestively with Alex at a party, she is thrown in isolation. The decision is made by prison supervisor Sam Healy (Michael J. Harney), who shows a half-paternal, half-sexual interest in Piper. He has a near-pathological obsession with lesbians and initially sees the privileged, engaged Piper as respectable. His punishment is both misogynistic and homophobic.

Orange is the New Black’s appeal lies in watching the women express themselves freely. The show has a deeply human, celebratory appreciation of the women’s condition. The inmates fight darkness with laughter. In fact, the prison world of Orange is The New Black can be likened, strangely enough, to Mikhail Bakhtin’s understanding of the carnival in its celebration of the anti-hierarchical spirit, socially subversive and sacrilegious acts, sensuality, eccentricity and unconventional connections. In his reading of the carnivalesque literary world of French Renaissance writer, Francois Rabelais, Rabelais and His World, Bakhtin underlines that carnival “marked the suspension of all hierarchical rank, privileges, norms and prohibitions.” Laughter is also celebrated as an anti-establishment weapon and Bakhtin explains that “festive folk laughter presents an element of victory not only over supernatural awe, over the sacred, over death; it also means the defeat of power of the earthly kings, of the earthly upper classes, of all that oppresses and restricts.” He notes, however, that the laughter of the carnival is “universal” and “directed at all and everyone, including the carnival’s participants.” The carnival, furthermore, supports “marketplace” anti-official, profane, parodic and abusive language. Orange is the New Black also mocks power and faith while celebrating joyous, subversive laughter and inventive, parodic speech. Both laughter and speech provide the female inmates with vital, democratic means of expression.

Orange is the New Black also valorizes sensual pleasure, particularly female sexual desire. Like other ground-breaking US TV shows of the last decade, it is merrily anti-puritan. It also has a rare, carnivalesque, in-your-face frankness. This is illustrated by repeated shots of vagina selfie shots of a female inmate who has been taking them in the women’s toilets while pretending to talk with the devil. Equally true to the ethos of the carnival, Orange is the New Black embraces the profane. Female inmates have sex with each other in the prison chapel.

Although the women dedicate themselves to maintaining personal hygiene, looking after their hair, bodies, and general appearance, the show is not frightened of depictions and discussions of emissions from the body. There is a scatological interest in bodily functions in the show. In Season One, a male guard and female inmate pee intentionally in places other than the bathroom while a bloodied tampon is served up in a sandwich in the prison canteen. This focus on the lower regions of the body equally recalls Bakhtin’s concept of the “grotesque body.” In Rabelais and His World, Bakhtin explains, “In grotesque realism…the bodily element is deeply positive. It is presented not in a private, egotistic form, severed from other spheres of life, but as something universal, representing all the people.” The “lower stratum” should not only be celebrated; it has anti-authoritarian significance too. Bakhtin notes that the function of the medieval clown is to remind the powerful of the “lower stratum.” In Orange is the New Black, emissions from the body also assume an anti-establishment, socio-political importance.

It is, in fact, unsurprising that the upper-class heroine of the tale finds herself on the receiving end of bodily waste in this carnivalesque world. It is Piper who is served the used tampon. She insulted Red’s cooking, albeit unintentionally. Charismatic, red-haired “Red” (Kate Mulgrew) is the prison’s Russian chef and matriarch to many. She also punishes Piper by withholding food. The latter needs to pay for her upper-class conceit and adapt to their world. It is also Piper who is forced to watch an admirer, Suzanne (Uzo Aduba) pee on the floor, in front of her bed, in response to being slighted. More on the unconventional Suzanne later but Piper is, in a way, also being punished for her vanity in this outlandish, amusing incident. The representative of the upper class is, furthermore, being reminded of “the lower stratum.”

Piss and menstrual blood are, used, therefore, as socially subversive weapons in Orange is The New Black. This carnivalesque treatment of Piper is all the more potent, and amusing, in the light of her professed love of bath or shower time–associated with both cleanliness and sexual love–as well as her job making artisanal bath products. But they do not, actually, have cruel intent on a symbolic level. They are, instead, democratic: Piper must surrender her bourgeois ego, sterile, little world, and join the carnival. The parodic insults Piper endures are also, incidentally, amusing. As she herself memorably notes, “I have been teased, stalked, threatened and called Taylor Swift.”

Orange is the New Black also addresses age-old American racial divisions and tensions. We see inmates welcome “their own” and vote on racial lines in leadership contests. Yet although the women hang out in racially segregated groups, these lines are broken quite regularly. They are happily transgressed in the carnivalesque spaces the prisoners create for themselves. Movie night and leaving parties function as joyful, heterogeneous, egalitarian spaces where women of all races mix and subvert racial divisions.

Orange is the New Black, what’s more, celebrates unconventional, carnivalesque connections. A particularly interesting, and lovely, one is between Sophia (Laverne Cox) a young African-American trans-woman, in jail for credit card fraud, and Sister Ingalls (Beth Flower), a white, political activist nun in late middle age. The Sister exercises a pastoral role to some extent–and Sophia ultimately appreciates her warm, no-nonsense advice–but there is nothing patronizing or judgmental about her manner and intent. Both are intelligent, compassionate people and both laugh–wisely–at the madness of the world around them. They are, moreover, interesting, likeable people. Sophia is, in fact, arguably, the most attractive, well-rounded character in Orange is the New Black.

But the show has a great number of interesting female characters such as Miss Claudette Pelage (Michelle Hurst), Piper’s “roommate.” An older, Haitian woman, Miss Claudette is in jail for killing a man who was abusing one of the young maids who worked in her cleaning company, a service comprised of young, illegal immigrants. A certain mystique has built up around Miss Claudette. She keeps herself to herself and does not have visitors. Dedicated to order and neatness, she is sharp, unwelcoming woman but gradually warms to Piper. Her fate is a deeply sad one.

Orange is the New Black also incorporates another important carnivalesque trait, eccentricity. Which brings us back to Suzanne. Nicknamed “Crazy Eyes” by many of her fellow inmates, Suzanne is a little different. As evidenced by the peeing incident, she is also unpredictable. Her manic intensity is, however, coupled with an engaging openness and sincerity. The characterization of Suzanne should not be read as naturalistic. Her unbalanced state is not portrayed in a clinical fashion. She is a carnivalesque, excessive figure who transgresses norm and boundaries and we are encouraged to enjoy her “madness.” A young, gay Black woman, Suzanne, in her eccentricity, also arguably goes beyond race and sexuality. There is another outrageous, key character is the show: Tiffany or “Pennsatucky.” The makers’ portrayal of “Pennsatucky” could be seen as classist–she is a lank-haired, racially prejudiced, rabidly homophobic young white “Jesus Freak” with appalling teeth–but she is so completely over-the-top that she cannot be said to represent the average, working-class, white, born-again Christian. The show’s most unlikeable character is, also, in fact, quite complex and her back story is out of the ordinary. “Pennsatatucky,” furthermore, has an important political function in that she exposes literalist, narrow-minded interpretations of faith. Compare the young woman’s Christianity with that of Sister Ingalls.

Orange is the New Black sends up the prejudiced, powerful, and comfortable. It takes deft, funny swipes at heterosexist, patriarchal attitudes as well as white privilege and complacency. Piper’s snooty, bird-like mother embodies the latter. When her daughter observes that she is not better than anyone of her inmates, she proclaims: “You’re nothing like any of these women. Any jury worth its salt would have seen that…” Parody is another carnivalesque weapon used in the show to puncture establishment pretensions. In one scene, friends “Taystee” (Danielle Brooks) and Poussey (Samira Wiley), whose love for each other has not quite been articulated, vividly parody the speech of a bourgeois, heterosexual white couple. Corrupt, sexist and homophobic prison guards and supervisors are also amusingly derided in the show. George Mendez (Pablo Schreiber) is one such example. “Pornstache,” as he also known, smuggles drugs into prison and sexually exploits the inmates. The show’s portrayal of “Pornstache” serves to drain him of power. Although a sleazy, dangerous character, he is meant to mocked rather than feared.

Orange is The New Black’s back stories depict the struggles of the underclass. Addiction, homelessness, neglect, and sexual exploitation are among the social issues addressed. The back-story of the young addict Trisha (Madeline Brewer), marked by abuse, addiction, and prostitution is not an uncommon one, while Taystee’s fate speaks volumes about the lack of support prisoners face when they are released. Yet although the show deals with a number of important social issues, and contains naturalistic elements, its subversive, socio-political power lies in its vivid, carnivalesque interpretation of prison life. It contains heart-breaking incidents but it also honors endurance and joyous resistance. Celebrating individuality, personal expression, and sensual pleasures, Orange is the New Black ultimately humanizes women who have been dehumanized.

“I Kind of Like It When She Calls Me a Bitch. It Makes Me Feel Like Janis Joplin”: Third-Wave Feminism in ‘New Girl’

There is no denying that 2013 has been a tough year for women. As a North Carolinian, I have watched as all but one Planned Parenthood in my state got slated for shut-down due to “health requirements” passed by our Republican lawmakers. At the national level, politicians have made too many rape-apologist comments to keep track of. As a feminist and former Women’s Studies major, it’s important for me to develop thick skin, and with it, an arsenal of uplifting weaponry that will keep me sane and optimistic about our future as women. Which is what has brought me to love the Fox television show New Girl. Yes, New Girl is, ultimately, a sitcom, and it is questionable whether sitcoms can hold up to serious feminist criticism or if we should just laugh along and not take them too seriously. But what’s the fun in that? When “lighthearted” media is so often blatantly sexist (the song “Blurred Lines” and its accompanying video have given feminists enough ire to last the entire year) we should acknowledge those forms of media that, even in subtle ways, subvert the sexist norm.

The cast of New Girl — The cast of *New Girl*

This is a guest post by Susan Mackey.

There is no denying that 2013 has been a tough year for women. As a North Carolinian, I have watched as all but one Planned Parenthood in my state got slated for shut-down due to “health requirements” passed by our Republican lawmakers. At the national level, politicians have made too many rape-apologist comments to keep track of. As a feminist and former Women’s Studies major, it’s important for me to develop thick skin, and with it, an arsenal of uplifting weaponry that will keep me sane and optimistic about our future as women. Which is what has brought me to love the Fox television show New Girl. Yes, New Girl is, ultimately, a sitcom, and it is questionable whether sitcoms can hold up to serious feminist criticism or if we should just laugh along and not take them too seriously. But what’s the fun in that? When “lighthearted” media is so often blatantly sexist (the song “Blurred Lines” and its accompanying video have given feminists enough ire to last the entire year) we should acknowledge those forms of media that, even in subtle ways, subvert the sexist norm.

The premise of New Girl is as follows: Jess (played by Zooey Deschanel) is a recently-single thirty-something-year-old woman who moves into an apartment with three men: Nick, Schmidt, and Winston. The underlying feminist elements in New Girl are often subtle, which is what lends them so much power. Just when we’re expecting another average romantic-comedy sitcom, the rug gets pulled out from under us. This happened to me while watching Season 1 of New Girl for the first time. Jess picks up her best friend Cece from the bar and brings her back to the apartment to crash. Jess warns the boys that when Cece’s drunk, “She’s really grabby, really physical, really loose with her body.” Immediately the scenario seems too predictable: a bunch of men will take advantage of a beautiful, drunk girl. In fact, the opposite occurs. Cece practically forces the boys to dance drunkenly with her, while they try clumsily to impress her. It’s an interestingly equal power dynamic; Cece is drunk and thus not in control, and yet, the boys succumb to her every whim. They couldn’t take advantage of her if they tried. The episode takes an interesting turn when Schmidt offers to let Cece sleep in his bed. He “sheepdogs” her into his room, closes the door, and says he’ll sleep on the couch. This scene took me completely by surprise and illustrated how deeply ingrained sexist imagery is in our imagination: I was abruptly surprised by the fact that Schmidt was not going to take Cece to bed when she was drunk. It was a shocking and somewhat sad realization that I expected the wrong thing to happen; it had almost never occurred to me that a man would not take advantage of this beautiful, drunk woman.

Jess vs. Julia: Second Wave vs. Third Wave

Jess is a prime example of third-wave feminism because she is a new image of what independence and power look like. In Season 1, her roommate Nick begins dating a lawyer named Julia. From the first time Julia and Jess met, Julia was standoffish and cold, quite different from Jess who is friendly and bubbly to a fault. When Jess needs Julia’s help getting out of a traffic ticket, Julia tells Jess condescendingly that her whole “thing” (meaning Jess’s ultra-femininity and friendliness) might work in front of a judge.

The tension between Julia and Jess reminds me of the very real tension between those who identify with second wave feminism and those who identify with third wave. Julia has had to combat sexism within her line of work and has done so by taking on traits that would typically be deemed “masculine.” Jess, on the other hand, is unapologetically feminine. When the two women break down and finally have it out in the bathroom of Nick’s bar, Julia tells Jess, “If I acted like you at work, no one would take me seriously.” This is a sad but true fact for women who work in male-dominated fields, like law. However, Jess counters, “Well if I acted like you at work, my students would turn in really weird, dark dioramas.” Second-wave feminism of the 1960s and 1970s often took the physical form of women who were trying to stake their claim in society by emulating men in manner and appearance (think of the “hairy legged man-hater” stereotype of feminists). Third-wave feminists know that female and feminist power can and should be claimed by everyone, including those second-wave feminists, but also by men, people of color, trans-people, and, finally, feminine women. Jess sums up this point perfectly when she tells Julia that even though she works with kids all day and wears polka-dots, “that doesn’t mean I’m not tough, and smart, and strong.”

Nick and his girlfriend (who happens to be a stripper)

I got another jolt while watching New Girl when roommate Nick begins dating a stripper, and receives no judgment from Jess or any other female character. Jess supports Nick’s girlfriend’s decision to strip and even pushes Nick to date her because she’s such a headstrong woman. It is so rare in television and in real life to find women who accept other women’s career and life choices, especially if that choice is to work in a sex industry. But that is one tenant of third-wave feminism that has caught on particularly well with young feminists.

The feminist movement, like any social movement, has had its fair share of shameful, or at least embarrassing, moments. Recall the 1968 anti-Miss America pageant demonstration, in which feminists paraded a sheep in front of the event to represent contestants. Organizers of the demonstration later regretted the tone of the protest because it pitted woman-against-woman instead of uniting them against an oppressive institution. Now, in the era of New Girl, feminists have realized the power of female friendships and mutual support.

Female Friendships

New Girl’s ability to portray female friendships accurately is noteworthy. The premise of the show–that a recently single woman moves into an apartment full of men and hilarity ensues–seems clichéd at first. And it is, at times. There are countless scenes of the seemingly hilarious debacles when two genders live together (in one episode, Schmidt finds one of the tampons that Jess has hidden around the house). But, after all, it is a cable sitcom, and so we must cut it some slack. After all, the show does make up for the predictable three-guys-and-a-girl scenario with scenes of genuine friendship among women. For starters, Jess has a diverse group of friends (for television standards); her best friend is an Indian woman (Cece) and her other friend who appears regularly is a lesbian (Sadie). Within these women there is no gossiping or snarky behavior. When Jess suspects that Nick’s aforementioned girlfriend Julia may not like her, she confides in Cece and Sadie for their support. Nick tries telling the women that they’re imagining things, but Jess points out to Nick something about female relationships that is all too true: when girls fight, a lot of it goes unsaid. There is real conflict between the women in New Girl, but none of it is the catty back-stabbing behavior that we are used to seeing on television.

Writing Diversity

Unsurprisingly, New Girl’s main character, played by Zooey Deschanel, is an attractive white woman (despite the show’s best efforts to portray her as awkward, she is still undeniably cute). For this reason, New Girl is not particularly revolutionary in its racial makeup. With the advent of Orange is the New Black, feminist viewers have gotten a taste of race done right in television (although, not without problems; OITNB has been called a “modern slave narrative” because of its use of a white protagonist as a vehicle to portray black and Hispanic characters). However, New Girl’s ability to successfully joke about race deserves notice. OITNB has garnered a lot of praise–and rightly so–for addressing race in a serious and respectful manner. But New Girl is a sitcom, after all, and has to be funny to be successful.

Modern Family, another sitcom, positions itself as a, well, modern representation of American families. Unfortunately, many of their jokes rely on tired clichés about race and gender (including the nagging wife, the fiery Latina woman, the effeminate gay man, the crotchety old Conservative white man). One episode in particular that made me roll my eyes consisted of the family’s newborn baby conveniently throwing up any time gay marriage was mentioned. It seems to me that Modern Family is trying to get away with these lazy, stereotypical jokes by positioning them as ironic; after all, how can it be offensive if it’s purposefully trying to be modern?

New Girl, while driven by a traditional female protagonist, has a surprisingly diverse cast. Schmidt is Jewish, Winston is Black, and her girlfriends include an Indian woman, Cece, and a lesbian named Sadie. The show is surprisingly, almost shockingly, successful in its abilities to joke about race and sexuality in ways that are truly original and funny, and not at all hurtful (disclaimer: because I am viewing the show from a straight, cisgender, white point of view, it is always possible that my privilege allows me to miss offensive humor). One episode in particular delves into the issue (or rather, the perceived issue) of Winston being the only Black housemate. Upon seeing Winston interacting with a group of strangers who are Black, Schmidt begins to fear that Winston is not being “his blackest self.” The episode continues with Winston taking advantage of Schmidt’s naïve idea of what it means to be Black. Instead of Black stereotypes being the joke (i.e., Black people smoke crack), Schmidt’s assumptions, laced in liberal open-mindedness, are the joke. (We’re laughing at Schmidt for having the assumption that Winston smokes crack.) Along the way, clever jokes of racial differences are made: Schmidt tells Winston that both of their “people” have done great things for America; African Americans have produced some of the best jazz music, while Jews have produced some of the best managers of jazz musicians. Another episode concludes with three white roommates taking turns at making Woody Allen jokes, while Winston simply ads, “Yeah, I have nothing to contribute here.” New Girl doesn’t pretend racial differences don’t exist; it acknowledges them, laughs at them, and moves on.

At the end of the day, it’s difficult to assess how great an impact a sitcom can have on society. Can twenty-five minutes of cable television enact real change in a society so permeated by racism, sexism, and every other damaging –ism? I’d like to think so. The people whose minds need to be changed are not always the ones marching on the streets, reading feminist blogs, and participating in grassroots activism. They are the ones sitting on their couches, watching television. So if a show like New Girl can subtly inject feminist values into the mainstream canon, that is something to celebrate. And now, more than ever, feminists need something to celebrate.

Susan Mackey is a recent graduate from Appalachian State University. She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, where she teaches preschool and writes about art and feminist issues in her spare time.

Does Hollywood Revolve Around Men? ‘One Man’ Video Says Yes

Deathwish‘s Charles Bronson, doing what dudes do

Is Hollywood really churning out the same movies, with the same stories over and over, revolving around men?? Yes, yes and yes. Geez, it’s called diversity, Hollywood.

This “One Man” movie trailer supercut video posted on Upworthy (and sent to us by the fabulous writer Soraya Chemaly…thanks, Soraya!) splices together clips from trailers containing voiceovers. Watch it…

…and you’ll notice a disturbing trend.

It’s all about THE MEN!!!

Men saving the world. Men doing what no one else can. Men, men, men. Oh yeah, and it’s almost exclusively white men. Sure, two women do make an appearance as the focus of the narrator — “one reporter” and “one woman,” aka Linda Fiorentina … in one frame holding panties. But in that sea of men, seeing only two women doesn’t really cut it. Men are not the only ones whose stories are worth telling. They’re not the only ones making a difference or saving the world. But you’d never know it.

Writing about the video, Joseph Lamour said, “This montage of movie trailers may seem like just another funny supercut, but to me it plays like a highlight reel for what’s wrong with American cinema.”

I thought it was a bit strange that all the movies in this video are about 20 years old or older. But has that much really changed? Of the top 250 grossing films in the U.S. in 2012, 9% were directed by women and 15% of the scripts were written by women. Of the top 250 films, women comprise 18% of all directors, executive producers, producers, writers, cinematographers, and editors. Only 33% of speaking roles in movies belong to women.

You might also be thinking, “But these are just trailers. Who cares about the trailers??” But movie trailers, just like advertising in general, affect us. As I’ve written before about the prevalent sexism with Super Bowl ads: “Most people think they can ignore ads or that marketing is harmless. But advertisements splatter across billboards, buses, magazines, TV, radio and the internet. In Jean Kilbourne’s groundbreaking book Can’t Buy My Love: How Advertising Changes the Way We Think and Feel, she argues sexist and misogynistic imagery bombards us, inundating our senses even on a subconscious level. Whether we realize it or not, ads impact our choices and views.”

When we see movie after movie, ad after ad, revolving around men, it implies and reinforces the message that women don’t matter as much as men.

We talk A LOT at Bitch Flicks about the need for more women in film. More female protagonists, heroes, anti-heroes and villains. More films passing the Bechdel Test. More films focusing on mothers and daughters, sisters and female friendships. More female directors and screenwriters. More women of color. More queer women. More women of different sizes, ages, socioeconomic statuses, personalities, etc, etc, etc. More, more, more. We desperately need more.

Listen up, Hollywood. We’re tired of the same shit. We want to see more of all of our stories reflected on-screen. Not just white dudes.

Women of Color in Film and TV: Talk About a ‘Scandal’: ‘Bunheads,’ the Whitey-Whiteness of TV, and Why Shonda Rhimes Is a Goddamn Hero

This guest review by Diane Shipley previously appeared at Bea Magazine and is cross-posted with permission.

I love Scandal. Halfway through the second season, it’s still some of the most sharp, fast-paced, thrilling TV I’ve ever sat through. Sure, it’s often improbable and features silly banter, but it’s never predictable, and Kerry Washington shines like the star she is as clever, controlled, morally ambiguous “crisis manager” Olivia Pope. (Yes, she’s the Pope.) (Oh, if only.)

What I don’t love is the fact that Kerry Washington is the first black woman to have the lead in a network drama in my lifetime.

Shonda Rhimes’ Scandal

I’m in my thirties! And since five years before I was born there hasn’t been a black female lead in an American network drama. (That was one called Get Christie Love!, inspired by the blaxploitation films of the ’70s.) And while there have been Asian and Latina leading ladies in that time, let’s not pretend that TV has ever been full of diversity. It’s a white person’s playground.

So it’s maybe not surprising that when Gilmore Girls creator Amy Sherman-Palladino’s new show Bunheads first aired, Shonda Rhimes, who created Scandal as well as Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice, felt a little fed up.

She tweeted ABC Family:

“Really? You couldn’t cast even ONE young dancer of color so I could feel good about my kid watching this show? NOT ONE?”

Which seems like a fair comment, as Bunheads‘ lack of diversity is a glaring omission.

It’s great to see a show that’s unabashedly female-centric and more concerned with telling stories than trying to be gimmicky (and which portrays performers with far more subtlety than Smash could ever manage). There are enough shows where women are nothing more than set dressing for it not to be an issue that all six leads in Bunheads are ladies.

But it is an issue that all six leads are white.

It would have been nice if Rhimes’ tweet had launched a respectful debate about the underrepresentation of women of color on TV. Instead, it sent Sherman-Palladino on a self-justifying rant in a horrible interview with Media Mayhem, which was notable for the fact that neither she nor the journalist who questioned her actually stuck to the point. That journalist, Allison Hope Weiner, said that what she took from the incident was that it was “inappropriate” for a woman to criticise another female showrunner, when there are so few of them.

Sherman-Palladino agreed, saying she would never “go after” another woman and that women in TV are not as supportive as they should be. She also pointed out that she only had a week and a half to cast four girls who could act and dance on pointe. Then she said that she doesn’t do “issues shows.”

It’s hard to know where to start with this clusterbleep of wrongness, but how about we begin with the idea that women should always support each other, no matter what?

Rebecca Paller of the Paley Center posted a blog post about the fracas, “Bunheads and Women: Why Can’t We Just Get Along?” in which she supports Sherman-Palladino and scolds Rhimes for her criticism, saying:

“You should have been more supportive of another female showrunner especially in this day and age when it’s so difficult to get a new dramatic series on the air.”

(Excuse me while I scream into a pillow until I throw up.)

Kerry Washington as Olivia Pope in Scandal

Here’s the thing: if anyone, regardless of gender, makes a mistake in their professional life, you have the right to call them out on it. Sure, Shonda Rimes could have been more deferential, but why the hell should she be?

Saying that women have to be nice to each other at all times because there are so few of us in top jobs only promotes the idea that we’re special snowflakes who have to be treated like precious cargo. While there are men whose shows are similarly lacking in diversity, female solidarity doesn’t preclude valid criticism. And the competitiveness among women that Sherman-Palladino alludes to is surely a symptom of the patriarchy and the fact that it’s so hard for women to get ahead rather than a case of “bitches be loco.”

Even worse, for white women like Sherman-Palladino, Hope Weiner, and Paller to ignore the context of Rhimes’ remark is breathtakingly ignorant. As you might have noticed, America has a history of oppressing both women and people of color and of stereotyping them in popular culture (the Academy is still rarely more impressed than when a black women plays a maid). And yet Paller mentions a possible Asian extra as proof that Bunheads is diverse, and says she’s “still not certain” why Rhimes saw fit to criticise Sherman-Palladino.

Shonda Rhimes is one of very few TV writers creating interesting black female characters. And she’s a black woman. That’s probably not coincidental. Sure, white men could be doing the same thing. But they’re not.

The most disappointing thing about Girls is that Lena Dunham appeared to not even consider that her show could include a main character who was black, or working class, or disabled, or transgender, and that viewers could still relate to that person. Because some of them are that person. Perhaps she was reluctant to make what Sherman-Palladino so charmingly dubs an “issues show,” but Scandal proves that a black character’s race doesn’t have to be her defining characteristic.

Kerry Washington as Olivia Pope in Scandal

A few months ago, Vulture ran a round table discussion with female showrunners to acknowledge that there have historically been so few women in charge of TV shows, and to celebrate the fact that things are starting to change. When talk turned to criticisms of Girls, this exchange actually happened:

E.K.: I think the lack of diversity on Girls probably has something to do with HBO’s willingness to let her be very specific, and tell her story. Whereas with network shows, there’s always a mandate. It becomes, “How are we gonna include this group of people?” or “We have to have some diversity.”

W.C.: And then every doctor is black.

E.K.: It becomes a token gesture. It doesn’t come from a place of sincere storytelling, or anything organic to the world.

It’s true; there’s been a lot of tokenism in TV over the years, with black doctors and lawyers and police officers clumsily slotted into the background of shows like politically correct afterthoughts since at least the early ’70s. But this was still progress, because before that television was so white-dominated that only by networks making a concerted effort to seek out non-white actors could things start to change. Even now, a lack of diversity is more often an oversight than some kind of brave creative choice.

And sure, we’re talking television here, and not real life. But TV shows matter. They’re probably our biggest shared cultural experience, and how they portray (or ignore) members of historically marginalised groups can reflect and reinforce stereotypes in an insidious way. Helena Andrews wrote a great piece for xoJane about Bunheads and the fact that, had her own ballet teacher not been black, she might not have realized that the white-dominated world of dance was something she could take part in, let alone enjoy:

“In a world that was looking less and less like me just as I was beginning to actually take a look at myself (oh, hey, there puberty) seeing an impossibly elegant (and forgive me) strong black woman every week was more than just a drop in the bucket of my confidence. It was a monsoon.”

Not seeing anyone like yourself on TV, over and over again, is profoundly alienating, and yet Sherman-Palladino and Dunham seem to shrug off the idea that this matters, as if their life’s work has no effect on people.

Shonda Rhimes knows it does.

———-

Diane Shipley is a freelance journalist specialising in women/feminism, books, and wonderful, wonderful television. She also blogs at No Humiliation Wasted and tweets (a lot).

Women of Color in Film and TV: Talk About a "Scandal": ‘Bunheads,’ the Whitey-Whiteness of TV, and Why Shonda Rhimes Is a Goddamn Hero

This guest review by Diane Shipley previously appeared at Bea Magazine and is cross-posted with permission.

What I don’t love is the fact that Kerry Washington is the first black woman to have the lead in a network drama in my lifetime.

Shonda Rhimes’ Scandal

She tweeted ABC Family:

“Really? You couldn’t cast even ONE young dancer of color so I could feel good about my kid watching this show? NOT ONE?”

Which seems like a fair comment, as Bunheads‘ lack of diversity is a glaring omission.

But it is an issue that all six leads are white.

It’s hard to know where to start with this clusterbleep of wrongness, but how about we begin with the idea that women should always support each other, no matter what?

“You should have been more supportive of another female showrunner especially in this day and age when it’s so difficult to get a new dramatic series on the air.”

(Excuse me while I scream into a pillow until I throw up.)

Kerry Washington as Olivia Pope in Scandal

E.K.: I think the lack of diversity on Girls probably has something to do with HBO’s willingness to let her be very specific, and tell her story. Whereas with network shows, there’s always a mandate. It becomes, “How are we gonna include this group of people?” or “We have to have some diversity.”

W.C.: And then every doctor is black.

E.K.: It becomes a token gesture. It doesn’t come from a place of sincere storytelling, or anything organic to the world.

“In a world that was looking less and less like me just as I was beginning to actually take a look at myself (oh, hey, there puberty) seeing an impossibly elegant (and forgive me) strong black woman every week was more than just a drop in the bucket of my confidence. It was a monsoon.”

Shonda Rhimes knows it does.

———-

Diane Shipley is a freelance journalist specialising in women/feminism, books, and wonderful, wonderful television. She also blogs at No Humiliation Wasted and tweets (a lot).

The Religious ‘Community’

Written by Max Thornton. Originally posted at Gay Christian Geek in March 2012; reposted here in honor of Community‘s return.

Anyone who is even casually acquainted with me in meat-life will be aware of two facts: (1) Community returned this week, and (2) I was very, very, very, very happy about this.

Community is straight-up my favorite show on TV. Its midseason disappearance from NBC’s schedule was devastating to me, and the announcement of its return had me capslock keymashing all over the internet. I celebrated Thursday’s episode with friends and champagne: it was glorious and beautiful, and it’s not really an exaggeration to say that this show is a religious experience for me. Here’s why.

I just love them all *so much*

1. The community of television

I tend to be fairly generous with my definition of “the religious”. Like Tillich, I think religion is an orientation toward ultimate concern; like Barthes, I believe we are surrounded by images that signify ideologies – and if popular culture reveals and reflects a society’s most deeply held values, then it’s not a huge leap to argue that pop culture can be a locus of religious experience. (Tom Beaudoin’s Virtual Faith makes this argument very nicely.)

Although TV ownership in the US is apparently declining, television is still the most ubiquitous form of mass media in this country (of that 3.3% of TV-less households, it’s a fairly solid bet that many of them still watch shows online). As such, it is the most unifying artifact of American popular culture, and thus television as a whole could be considered a site of religious meaning. Even for a small cult show like Community,several million viewers participate in the weekly ritual of watching it – a shared experience that nonetheless resonates on a personal level for each individual, much like a religious service.

2. The community of the individual

Some people have accused the Community ensemble of being uniformly terrible human beings who evince no character growth and are unlikeable and completely unrelatable. I will not link to the people saying these things, because they are erroneous, incorrect, inaccurate, misguided, mistaken wrong-mongers who are very very wrong.

I see myself in Jeff: his walls of sarcasm and cynicism that try but fail to hide the true depths of his emotional responses.

I see myself in Britta: her enthusiasm for political causes and her morality that stems from a heart in the right place but is often ill-thought-out or hypocritical in practice.

I see myself in Abed: his profound love of pop culture, his social discomfort, his use of pop culture to understand those around him.

I see myself in Shirley: her deep Christian faith and her struggle to overcome her personal failings to live a really loving Christian life.

I see myself in Annie: her neurotic perfectionism and intense fear of failure.

I see myself in Troy: his goofy sense of humor, his deep bromance with his BFF, his quest for a place and purpose in the world.

I see myself in Pierce: his desperate desire for acceptance and inclusion, insecurities often masked by acting like an almighty asshole.

I really, really love these characters. Each one of them speaks to a different part of my own personality, often in ways that illuminate my flaws and weaknesses. They are complicated, imperfect human beings, but they love each other and I love them. They embody the complex, messy reality of being human – of being simultaneously wonderful and terrible, capable of beautiful things and horrific things, worthy of love and of hate.

Remember this?

3. The community of friends

It’s called Community because that’s what it’s ultimately about. This is a show about a group of people who are thrown together in a situation that’s for none of them ideal, and who learn to make the best of it. The interpersonal dynamics at play in this show are special because they are bold and because they speak a truth that is rarely spoken in television.

Compare the show Friends. That was also a show about a group of friends, and it was often a sweet show with a good heart, but all the friends came from the same social location: straight, white, young, of a certain socioeconomic bracket. Community dares to portray a very diverse group of people who find common ground without erasing their differences. The relationship between the Self and the Other must involve both the unity of commonality and the space of respecting difference. Friendship is the experience of navigating this Scylla-and-Charybdis – learning to find common ground in your shared humanity while celebrating and benefiting from each other’s difference – and Community portrays this wonderful, difficult process better than any other show I’ve ever seen.

Remember this??

4. The heart of Community

Community is a dizzyingly inventive show, playing with pop-culture history in endlessly fun and creative ways, but it is still a television show, and as such it follows a certain formula. The characters love each other; they learn lessons about the value of friendship; they make missteps and hurt each other, but they ultimately make the right choices and warm our hearts. Like religious truth, Community‘s heart is both inexhaustibly profound and completely obvious.

So very many religious and philosophical traditions hinge on the Golden Rule. Jesus himself said that everything else was pretty much window-dressing. Love your neighbor as yourself: it really couldn’t be simpler. And yet we have to be taught it, over and over again, in different ways and by different people, and we still don’t do it. It’s childishly simple, but it’s also really difficult.

In the same way, Community is a television show. More specifically than that, it’s a half-hour network sitcom. It plays by established rules and conveys a simple, feel-good message. At the same time, though, it takes such delight in exploring the limits of those established rules and finding new and awesome ways to express that simple message.

Community is a show about love, it’s a show written from a place of love, and I believe it’s a manifestation of God’s love in the world. I leave you with the moment I first knew this show was something really special and a nugget of pure wisdom: cabeza es nieve, cerveza es bueno.

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Megan‘s Picks:

How to Increase Media Diversity: 3 Lessons from the London Feminist Film Festival by Spectra via Racialicious

Female Trouble: Why Powerful Women Threaten Hollywood by Sasha Stone via Awards Daily

Why Having Only Strong Girl Heroines Is Not Enough by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood

Matt Lauer Is Gross, Anne Hathaway Kicks Slut-Shaming’s Ass by Jos Truitt via Feministing

Women of Color Talk Back: “Birthday Song” via FAAN Mail

Shonda Rhimes On Why She Has Many Gay Characters on Her Shows by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood

The Female Pilots Who Were Cut From ‘Return of the Jedi’ and the Future of Star Wars by Alyssa Rosenberg via Think Progress

Why Talking About Character Gender Still Matters (Even Though It Shouldn’t) by Becky Chambers via The Mary Sue

Serena Williams Is Not a Costume by Jessica Luther via Speaker’s Corner in the ATX (scATX )

‘The Mindy Project’: The Best Show You’re Not Watching by Molly McCaffrey via I Will Not Diet

The Censorship of ‘Mean Girls’: What Was MTV Thinking? by Ramou Starr via Hello Giggles

If Women Ran Hollywood… by Karensa Cadenas via Women and Hollywood

What have you read (or written) this week that you’d like to share?

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Amber‘s Picks:

Hollywood’s Year of Heroine Worship by A.O. Scott via The New York Times

Oscars and casting: Hollywood insiders discuss diversity by Solvej Schou via Entertainment Weekly

30 Lessons We Learned From Amy Poehler in 2012 by Krutika Mallikarjuna via Buzzfeed

Megan‘s Picks:

7 Ways Women and Girls are Sexualized, Stereotyped and Underrepresented On Screen by Dana Liebelson and Asawin Suebsaeng via Mother Jones

“There Is an Audience for Our Films”: Four African-American Female Filmmakers Speak Out by Lorenza Munoz via The Daily Beast

Surprise! Attempted Rape Scene in Episode of ‘The Walking Dead’ by Tizzy Giordano via Fem2pt0

TedX Women Talk about Online Harassment and Cyber Mobs by Anita Sarkeesian via Feminist Frequency

Is Historical Accuracy a Good Defense of Patriarchal Societies in Fantasy Fiction? by Dan Wohl via The Mary Sue

Google Grants $1.2M to Help Analyze Female Roles in TV, Film by Angela Watercutter via Wired

Hollywood’s Power 100 Mingle at THR’s Women in Entertainment Breakfast by Sophie A. Schillaci via The Hollywood Reporter

The Divine, Difficult Women of ‘Treme’ and David Simon’s Female Characters by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

Dreamworks Animation Is Proud of Having an 85% Female Group of Producers by Susana Polo via The Mary Sue

Sexist Quote of the Day by Bret Easton Ellis Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood

What have you read (or written) this week that you’d like to share?

‘Young Justice’ Grows Up

The Season 1 Team From Left to Right: Superboy, Zatanna, Kid Flash, Rocket, Robin, Miss Martian, Artemis, and Aqualad.

Written by Myrna Waldron.

SPOILER WARNING – No major plot twists are revealed, but there are minor spoilers.

It’s a sadly accepted fact that the superhero genre just isn’t women-friendly. The few times we have gotten a major motion picture centered around a female superhero (Supergirl, Catwoman, Elektra), the results have been abysmal to say the least…leading executives to conclude that superheroines aren’t cost-effective (of course). Films based in both the DC and the Marvel universes all star male superheroes, with heroines only appearing in ensemble groups like X-Men, Fantastic Four and The Avengers (curiously enough, all Marvel properties). It doesn’t look like this is going to change any time soon, since all of the upcoming superhero blockbusters are sequels and reboots to already established male-centric franchises. I fully expect Batman to be rebooted AGAIN before we get a Wonder Woman film.

So it was with trepidation that I started watching Young Justice, an animated TV series centered around the teenage protégées of the members of the Justice League. Produced by Greg Weisman, who created cult classic animated series Gargoyles, I was encouraged by Weisman’s involvement in the show, as Gargoyles’ heroine Elisa Maza is a rare animated lead character who is not only fully competent and well developed, but is also a POC, (Person of Colour) as she is half African-American, half Native American. The series is definitely aimed at a teenage audience, as it has an overarching storyline (rather than self-contained episodes), moral ambiguities, and romance (naturally). Over the course of the first season (Young Justice is now currently in its second season) the teenage team gradually forms, with a combination of well-known and obscure characters, male and female, human and non-human, and white and racial minority. The main cast is as follows:

Green Arrow, Aquaman, Flash and the four protégées, Speedy, Robin, Aqualad and Kid Flash

Robin/Dick Grayson, Batman’s very well known protégée, who is talented with acrobatics, explosives, and computer hacking.

Aqualad/Kaldur ‘Ahm, Aquaman’s protégée, who is Atlantean, so he has the powers of water breathing and manipulation of electricity and water “blades.” Although non-human, he has the appearance of a young black man with blonde hair.

Kid Flash/Wally West, The Flash’s nephew, who, while not as fast as his uncle, has the same super-speed abilities.

Superboy/Conner Kent, a weeks-old clone using Superman’s DNA. He has most, but not all, of Superman’s powers, including super-strength and invulnerability. He lacks the heat-vision, x-ray vision and flying abilities, but can still, as they say, leap tall buildings with a single bound.

Miss Martian/M’gann (Megan) M’orzz, a green-skinned Martian immigrant who is the first female character introduced. Initially pretends to be the niece of Martian Manhunter to conceal a secret about her true Martian identity. She has by far the most powerful and varied abilities, including telepathy, mind-reading, super-strength, flight, shapeshifting, and most importantly, pilots a biological ship that the team uses to travel to their assignments.

Artemis/Artemis Crock, Green Arrow’s protégée posing as his niece. Predictably, she has the same abilities as Green Arrow, including incredible accuracy in archery, use of arrowheads with varying effects (explosive, etc), and general martial arts abilities. Although blonde, she is eventually revealed to be half Vietnamese.

Zatanna, the daughter of Zatara. She has highly varied magical abilities, which require a spell to be spoken in reverse order. Although powerful, her father still outclasses her.

Speedy/Red Arrow/Roy Harper, Green Arrow’s previous protégée. Went solo and renamed himself Red Arrow after still being treated like a sidekick during his introduction to the Justice League. Has the same abilities as Artemis, and only assists the team occasionally.

Rocket/Raquel Ervin, the apprentice of Icon. Gets her powers from her inertia belt, alien technology that grants her the ability to manipulate kinetic energy for flight, super-strength and as a force field. Like Icon, she is (or at least appears to be) African-American.

As a general whole, the equality between the sexes on the team, and the inclusion of several characters of colour, is encouraging. However, the series takes far too long to get to this point. I was incredibly dismayed to notice that for the first episode and 95% of the second episode (which premiered together as a “movie”) no female characters speak at all. Other than Aqualad, the first two episodes are, well, a white sausage-fest. Miss Martian is introduced at the very end of the second episode, and remains a token female for several episodes more. Black Canary, a Justice League member, is assigned to train the team in hand-to-hand combat, (which is a good idea, as it establishes a female hero in a position of leadership and competence) but only appears in episodes occasionally. Artemis is not introduced until the 6th episode, with Zatanna and Rocket joining in the 15th and 25th episodes respectively. Considering that the first season is only 26 episodes, that’s pretty sad.

The series also takes a very long time to pass the Bechdel Test. For those who are unfamiliar with this term, the Bechdel Test is used to help determine female representation in film & television. In order to pass, the media must A) Have two or more named female characters, B) Who talk to each other, C) About something other than a man. Unfortunately, while Miss Martian and Artemis talk to each other, they only talked about the male members of the team (and especially about Superboy, as there is a very minor love triangle surrounding him).

Artemis: You embarrassed Superboy!
Megan: Didn’t hear him say that. Must you challenge everyone?
Artemis: Where I come from, that’s how you survive.

Cheshire and Artemis

The series does not pass the test until the 12th episode during a flashback scene depicting a younger Artemis begging her sister (antagonist/anti-hero Cheshire) not to run away from home in order to escape their abusive father.

Cheshire: You should get out, too. I’d let you come with me, but you’d slow me down.
Artemis: Someone has to be here when Mom gets out.
Cheshire: Haven’t you learned anything? In this family, it’s every girl for herself.

Fortunately, after this barrier is finally broken, conversations between the female characters become a regular occurrence, including sequences where Megan and Artemis team up, and an entire subplot in one episode centred around Artemis and Zatanna having a “girl’s night out” and fighting crime together after Artemis discovers that Megan and Conner have become a couple.

Artemis: (seeing a crime scene with police presence) Whatever happened here is over. I want some action.
Zatanna: Then maybe you need to talk…about Conner and Megan..or whatever.
Artemis: What I need is something to beat up.

The female characters in the show are generally well developed, with Miss Martian getting the most attention and development. It’s a little unfortunate that a lot of the character development surrounding Megan and Artemis is about their romantic entanglements with Superboy and Kid Flash respectively, but that is not unusual for a teenage audience show. One thing I appreciated was that Megan and Conner become a couple fairly early on (the 11th episode) rather than spending an entire season with endless sexual tension (which, unfortunately, is what happens with Artemis and Wally).

Speaking of which, I also have to say how much Kid Flash annoys me. His treatment of women is pretty deplorable; he constantly flirts with Megan despite her total lack of interest, and butts heads with Artemis due to his resentment at her replacing Speedy/Red Arrow.

Red Arrow and Artemis argue while Green Arrow looks on

Artemis: (teasing Wally, who was preparing to go to the beach) Wall-man! Love the uniform. What exactly are your powers?
Wally: Uh, who’s this?
Artemis: Artemis. Your new teammate.
Wally: Kid Flash. Never heard of you.
Green Arrow: Um, she’s my new protegee.
Wally: W-what happened to your old one?
Roy: Well, for starters, he doesn’t go by “Speedy” anymore. Call me Red Arrow.
Green Arrow: Roy! You look —
Roy: Replaceable.
Green Arrow: It’s not like that, you told me you were going solo.
Roy: So why waste time finding a sub? Can she even USE that bow?
Artemis: Yes. She can.
Wally: WHO ARE YOU?
Artemis & Green Arrow: I’m/She’s his/my niece.
Dick: Another niece?
Kaldur: But she is not your replacement. We have always wanted you on the team. And we have no quota on archers.
Wally: And if we did, you KNOW who we’d pick.
Artemis: Whatever, Baywatch. I’m here to stay.

Miss Martian and Artemis in general are not treated as equals until later; Megan makes an honest mistake in one battle (she assumes that an antagonistic android with wind powers is their “den mother” Red Tornado, who has similar powers and implied he would be testing them) and is made to feel foolish for it, and Artemis is treated like an outsider due to the team’s loyalty to Roy. Both are distrusted for their general lack of practical battle experience, despite Superboy being theoretically just as inexperienced. He may be invulnerable, but he is literally months old and is extremely rash and sullen. His impulsive actions during the 5th episode, where he abandoned the team’s mission to fight an enemy on his own, jeopardized the team’s safety far more than Miss Martian’s mistake did earlier, and yet he does not have to endure nearly as much blame and condescension as she did.

Superboy: You tricked us into thinking Mr. Twister was Red Tornado!
Aqualad: She didn’t do it on purpose.
Robin: It was a rookie mistake. We shouldn’t listen.
Kid Flash: You are pretty inexperienced. Hit the showers. We’ll take it from here.
Superboy: Stay out of our way.
Miss Martian: I was just trying to be part of the team.
Aqualad: To be honest, I’m not sure we really have a team.

In terms of racial representation, although the Young Justice team is still primarily comprised of white heroes, having three major characters that are racial minorities is better representation than usual. The alien heroes, Miss Martian and Superboy, also serve as metaphorical representations of racial minorities through their, well, alienation from the team members native to Earth. Although it is tricky to show inclusiveness and diversity without looking like a cheesefest from the 90s, there is definite room for improvement – ideally, the ratio between white and minority characters should be at least 50-50. In addition to this, I was somewhat uncomfortable by Kaldur’s character arc; as the most mature member of the team he is a natural leader, but makes it clear he eventually plans to step down once Robin comes of age. It has been previously established that Robin is usually the leader of these teen teams, and he is by far the most well-known character, but it seemed problematic that the racial minority is acquiescing his position of leadership to a white male.

Another area of representation that needs to be improved is inclusion of LGBTQ characters. So far, all of the romantic relationships depicted in the show have been heterosexual. While not every character has had their romantic interests explored, none have been established as LGBTQ either. If the formerly staid, heterocentric and whitewashed Archie Comics can reinvent itself to include permanent minority and gay characters, there’s no reason that a TV show that skews towards an older audience cannot do so. It would be even more exceptional and encouraging, albeit unlikely, if there was a trans* character introduced in the series, as it is unfortunately very uncommon to see trans* characters represented in the media.

The Season 2 Team, Clockwise From Left: Robin II, Wonder Girl, Lagoon Boy, Bumblebee, Batgirl, Miss Martian, Beast Boy, Superboy and Blue Beetle.

On the bright side, the writers and producers of Young Justice are definitely improving on some of the criticisms I have detailed here. As I mentioned, although the series starts off with far too much emphasis on white male characters, more female characters and more minorities are gradually added to the cast. The second season improves on this even further by introducing even more minority and female characters, including Batgirl, Beast Boy (who, although originally a white male, is technically no longer human), Blue Beetle (who is Hispanic), Bumblebee (who was DC’s first black female superhero), Lagoon Boy (another Atlantean like Aqualad, but less human in appearance), and Wonder Girl. Other additions to the cast in the second season include Tim Drake, who assumes the Robin title after Dick Grayson becomes Nightwing, and Impulse, The Flash’s grandson from the future.

The series also is notable for having a very mature storyline. As I mentioned earlier, the episodes are not self-contained, but all form one continuous plotline. Themes such as sacrifice, wanting to prove oneself, child abuse, and living in someone else’s shadow are prevalent, as well as moral ambiguities such as the implications of being a clone, accepting a parent who is a former convict, and whether antagonists have (human) rights and if the ends justify the means. There are also subtle representations of sexuality, as in the second season some characters are depicted cohabiting, and others having shown to have married and had a child. Previous animated series based on DC comics such as Justice League, Team Titans and Batman: The Animated Series, which all had mature, morally ambiguous stories, are an obvious influence here.

As a general whole, I was very pleasantly surprised with Young Justice once it got over its initial speed bumps. It’s still got a long way to go, but I can say fairly confidently that the representations of women and POC are head-and-shoulders above many other contemporary animated series. The second season indicates that the writers and producers have learned from their mistakes, and are becoming more inclusive as the series goes on. In fact, one popular scene in the fifth episode of the second season points out how absurd it is that an all-female team is considered unusual.

Nightwing: …but Biyalia’s dictator, Queen Bee, is another story. Her ability to control the minds of men is why Alpha is an all-female squad for this mission.
Batgirl: Oh REALLY? And would you have felt the need to justify an all male squad for this mission?
Nightwing: Uh…ahem. There’s no right answer for that, is there? Uh…Nightwing out.
Batgirl: Queen Bee isn’t the only one who can mess with a man’s mind.

The series will be resuming the second season this fall. I look forward to seeing just how much better the series can get in terms of equal representation. Like its teenage protagonists, Young Justice itself is growing up.

All images gratefully borrowed from the Young Justice Wiki.

Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.