Fan Culture – Bitch Flicks

Fangirls, It’s Time to #AskForMore

In the battle to address the staggering gender gap in women directing for film and television, there is one huge untapped resource — the passion and organizing power of fangirls.

This guest post written by Alyssa Franke appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors.

In the battle to address the staggering gender gap in women directing for film and television, there is one huge untapped resource — the passion and organizing power of fangirls.

We all know the depressing statistics, we’ve seen the ACLU letter requesting an investigation into the gender biases in Hollywood’s hiring practices, and we’ve read the horrifying first-hand accounts of sexism and harassment. A long-term solution to the gender gap will probably require a combination of legal action and industry initiatives.

But fan activism can also play an important — even crucial — role. Fans can, of course, raise awareness of the problem within their communities. But even more importantly, fans have the ability to transform complex, industry-wide issues where responsibility can be hard to pin down into personalized campaigns where individuals who contribute to the problem can be held accountable.

You can see similar organizing happening already in fan communities, though these have largely focused on on-screen representation rather than behind-the-scenes representation. When studios have hired white actors to portray characters of color, Racebending has organized fan communities to protest the deliberate exclusion of actors of color and the whitewashing of beloved characters. Fans of Supernatural have confronted the writers of the show at conventions to hold them accountable for fridging nearly every female character on the show. And after a beloved lesbian character was killed on The 100 in yet another example of the “Bury Your Guys” trope, fans organized behind the hashtag #LGBTFansDeserveBetter to support LGBT fans, raise money for charity, and hold the creators accountable. The backlash grew so strong that showrunner Jason Rothenberg eventually apologized for the way the character was killed.

Whitewashing characters of color, fridging women, and sensationally killing off LGBT characters are problems which span the entire movie and television industry. But when fans had a specific instance of each of these problems to latch on to, they could begin to organize movements for change. In each case, fans raised the profile of the broader issue and were able to hold specific individuals accountable for contributing to those problems.

The same principles can apply when it comes to organizing fans to tackle the gap in women directors. When so many people have a hand in hiring directors, it is easy for everyone to shift blame onto someone else. Agents, networks, studios, producers, showrunners, and even actors are able to point fingers at each other and say that someone else is more responsible for the lack of women directors than they are. But as fans begin to notice the gender gap in their own fandoms, they can begin to hold specific individuals, studios, and networks accountable.

But first, fans need to be aware of how the gender gap impacts their own fandoms. After the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) began investigating the systemic discrimination against women directors in Hollywood, I started looking into how many women were directing my favorite TV shows. In October, I posted a series of graphics on Tumblr highlighting some of the most surprising results I had found.

The numbers were seriously depressing. Supernatural, with over two hundred episodes and one of the largest online fanbases, had only hired two women to direct an episode each (they’ve since hired one additional woman to direct one episode). Newer shows like Daredevil and Agent Carter had no women directors (and each show has only hired one woman director since my original piece was published). There were a few shows that had a smattering of women directors here and there, but there were often whole seasons without a single woman directing an episode.

Over twelve thousand notes later, fans are still sharing that post and adding on the number of women who have directed their favorite TV shows. American Horror Story, 0 women directors after sixty-three episodes. Hannibal, 0 women directors after thirty-nine episodes. Orphan Black, one woman directing only two of thirty episodes.

Even shows that are doing better than average are still depressingly below parity. Supergirl has had three women direct three of eighteen aired episodes. Jessica Jones had three women direct four of thirteen episodes. And Elementary has had five women direct fifteen of their ninety aired episodes.

Once fans are aware of the gender gap in directors for their favorite TV shows and movie franchises, they can begin organizing. And they are in a particularly unique position to challenge studios, networks, and creators. As television shows and media franchises have recognized the importance of interacting with fandoms for marketing and engagement purposes, they have also created spaces for fans to challenge and question them. And fans have proven to be particularly adept at getting attention for their issues thanks to that access.

Even though it resulted in no tangible changes, or even an acknowledgement from the creators that their narrative choices might have been damaging, Supernatural fans were able to draw awareness to the show’s terrible treatment of its female characters and publicly challenge the writer to justify his choices. And in The 100 fandom, access to the show’s writers on Tumblr and Twitter seems to have sparked genuine conversation between fans and the creators about the industry’s treatment of LGBT characters. This is particularly true of Javier Grillo-Marxuach, who wrote the episode that sparked the controversy and who has since been talking extensively with fans on his Tumblr to explain the process behind creating the episode and to reflect on their concerns.

Fan activism for more women directors could rely on similar tactics. At conventions, fans would be able to raise the profile of the issue in front of actors, writers, and showrunners — and by extension the studios or networks behind the show or movie franchise. And on social media platforms, fans would be able to use their access to creators and official social media accounts to apply pressure to address the gender gap in directors, spark conversation about the issue, and hopefully gain pledges to address the issue.

When I have discussed this issue within my own fandoms, I often receive feedback from other fans that specific shows or movies should not be held accountable for an industry-wide issue. While I agree that one show shouldn’t be made the scapegoat for the broader problem, I do think this argument misses the point that individual franchises should be held accountable for their contribution to the problem. Each franchise — and its related fandoms — should feel invested in attempting to correct the problem where they can. Incremental change is necessary to jumpstart broader changes.

And I am very aware that fan organizing alone cannot solve the gender gap for women directors. However, combined with the threat of legal action and pressure from within the industry, I think it can play a crucial role by keeping attention on the issue and maintaining pressure on key players in the industry. My hope is that our engagement would compliment efforts from within the industry, and that our efforts would be proof that consumers are aware of the gender gap and invested in seeing it addressed.

4am. Fight scene done. #GirlPower #Supergirl pic.twitter.com/3z9TVQepcx

— Lexi Alexander (@Lexialex) December 19, 2015

I write this piece with the explicit aim that it act as both a guide for organizers and a clarion call for fans.

If you are a woman director, or someone within the industry looking to organize around this issue, I encourage you to engage with fan communities. They are passionate, invested in their favorite franchises, and generally committed to improving representation on and off screen. We want to help, and we can be valuable allies.

If you are a fan, then consider this your call to begin advocating for better representation behind the scenes. We talk a lot about how we want our favorite franchises to do better when representing women and their stories, and one of the best ways to do this is to ensure that a diverse group of people are involved with the crafting of those stories.

Look up how many women have been hired to direct your favorite movies and TV shows. Raise awareness in your fandom. Organize around #AskForMore, or make a specific hashtag for your fandom. And at conventions and on Tumblr and Twitter, ask for more women directors. Be respectful, and remember that the person you are talking with may want to help and is possibly being stymied by someone else involved with hiring directors (it is an incredibly convoluted process, with multiple people involved). Instead of making accusations, ask what they are doing or will do to ensure that more women are hired to direct.

As a fangirl, I am deeply invested in not just the stories that my favorite movies and TV shows are telling, but also the environment in which those stories are created. I want the franchises I love to do better by the women working in the industry, and I’m willing to hold them accountable to make it happen.

Alyssa Franke is the author of Whovian Feminism, where she analyzes Doctor Who from a feminist perspective. You can find her on Tumblr and Twitter @WhovianFeminism.

‘Outland’: An Unsung Treat for Queer Sci-Fi Fans

‘Outland’ is a little-known but hilarious Australian miniseries about five gay nerds in Melbourne. It has been called “a gay answer to ‘The Big Bang Theory,’” but I don’t think this description does it justice.

Written by Max Thornton.

Outland is a little-known but hilarious Australian miniseries about five gay nerds in Melbourne. The six half-hour episodes aired on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation in 2012. Each of the first five focuses on a different member of the group, as each takes his or her turn hosting their sci-fi movie-watching club and nothing goes according to plan.

First there’s Max. Max is the closest thing this show has to the everyman character, the Ted Mosby or Jim Halpert – but this is a show about queer nerds, so he’s a gay science fiction enthusiast with an anxiety disorder. As far as I’m concerned, this makes him far more relatable than the Mosbys and Halperts of the televisual landscape.

The excellent second episode focuses on Rae, who is coping with the aftermath of her breakup from her girlfriend, Simone. Max voices his sympathy for Rae’s situation as a lesbian of color in a wheelchair: “Black, gay, and disabled – it’s like a discrimination trifecta.” She responds by quoting James Baldwin and then agreeing to have a nude photo of her displayed in an art exhibit. Rae is the literal best.

Then there’s Andy, the openly kinky one. As his friends try to get him down from his ceiling harness (this is a sitcom), Andy expounds upon the connection between his two favorite hobbies: “Science fiction and sex: they’re two sides of the same coin. Exploration, adventure, discovery…” In the DVD special features, writers John Richards and Adam Richard make it clear that this isn’t wholly a joke. There’s a thematic throughline undergirding the whole series which draws parallels between geekdom and queerness, from Max loudly “coming out of two closets” to the whole gang narrowly avoiding a queerbashing as they cosplay on their way to Pride. Being queer and being a nerd are two ways of being outside of the mainstream, and forming countercultural communities are a (perhaps the) major way for outsiders to survive.

Even communities with really really low effects budgets!

Fab is probably the most stereotypically gay character. He’s a flaming queen, he’s delightfully bitchy, he has tragically flamboyant fashion sense, and he lives with his nan. This is a great way for the writers to sneak in a bit of social commentary – when the others are creeped out by being around an old person, Andy points out, “You’re only saying that because we’ve been conditioned to believe that aging is the worst thing that can happen to a gay man.”

The last member of the gang is Toby. Poor Toby, whom nobody likes. Toby is an uptight rich kid who’s sure nobody outside of the group knows about his obvious queerness. His episode has songs and dancing and is totally amazing.

In the final episode, the splintered gang tries to overcome their assorted squabbles and neuroses to reunite for Pride. As a frustrated Max says, “All I wanted was a group where I could fancy the guy from Farscape without anyone making a big deal out of it!” Ultimately it’s the external threat that brings them back together, as the nerds realize that, as dysfunctional as their little group is, it’s a community that serves their needs in a hostile world.

Outland has been called “a gay answer to The Big Bang Theory,” but I don’t think this description does it justice. The Big Bang Theory has (or had, when I last watched it, which was admittedly several years ago now) a palpable contempt for its characters, and concomitantly for the nerd culture it purports to portray. Outland, on the other hand, comes from a genuine place of affection for its characters and their geeky pastimes. This is evident in a wonderful subtlety of Outland, which is that its nerds have overlapping but distinct nerdy interests. Toby is the one who collects figurines; Max is the one who owns a Dalek suit; Rae is the one who’s into gender politics and Ursula LeGuin (obviously). This entirely reflects my experience with sci-fi club: we all loved science fiction and fantasy, we were all conversant in the obvious stuff, but everyone had their niche – Tim was our Middle-Earth expert, Michael knew everything there was to know about comic books, Heda was a Star Wars extended universe obsessive. (I was the go-to guy for zombies and B-movies.) Over the nearly 100 episodes of Big Bang I saw, I don’t recall ever seeing the specific interests of Howard, Leonard, Raj, and Sheldon being so well delineated as the Outland crew’s in six. This is nowhere better illustrated than in the group’s cosplay effort, where the interests and personality of each character shine in each specific iteration of the same costume.

Dressed as Lulara from show-within-a-show Space Station Beta. — Dressed as Lulara from show-within-a-show *Space Station Beta*.

Outland is broader and less nuanced than Spaced (oh, Spaced, will anything ever match your brilliance?), but it’s perhaps the closest thing we have to a queer Spaced. It’s unfortunately lacking in female characters; episode 2 is the only one that passes the Bechdel test, and you almost wonder if there’s self-awareness in making Rae do triple duty as the proverbial black disabled lesbian – oh, hell, can we just see a spinoff that follows Simone’s splinter group, the Lesbian Separatist Feminist Fantasy League?

Until the day we see a specifically lesbian and/or trans nerd sitcom, though, Outland is a delightful and very funny show (even if it can, alas, only be imported at great expense in the wrong DVD region).

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Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. He’d like to thank his friend Gary for hooking him up with the Outland DVD.

Recipe for Success: The Surprisingly Charming ‘Hannibal’ Fandom

The ‘Hannibal’ fanbase has taken something potentially very twisted and grotesque, and reshaped it into something charming and cuddly, focused on love and flowers and puppies.

I don’t want my role on this website to be that of some gross White Knight, the dude constantly defending (largely female) fandom as if fans are incapable of standing up for their pretty little lady selves. But I do want to talk about fandom a lot, because the broader culture denigrates fandom in a way that is not, I think, unconnected to the (perceived) female dominance of fandom (*COUGH* MOFFAT *COUGH*), and I truly believe that fandom is a really important space for carving out counterreadings.

LOOK AT THEM. Look at girl!Supernatural and tell me it's not the best thing ever. — LOOK AT THEM. Look at girl!Supernatural and tell me it’s not the best thing ever. Source

I only started watching NBC’s Hannibal because of Bryan Fuller. Fuller created Wonderfalls and Pushing Daisies (and Dead Like Me, which I swear I will watch one day; please don’t let it ruin my credibility that I haven’t gotten to it yet), which are shows that seem tailor-made for me: they are charming and colorful and quirky and witty and delightsome, shows with a supernatural element and a slightly twisted edge and totally rad female characters. Much as I loved Silence of the Lambs when I was an angsty (and deeply closeted trans) teenager, I wasn’t at all sure how well the good Dr. Lecter would lend himself to the Fuller aesthetic, but it’s turned out quite interesting.

The aesthetic is definitely the most striking thing about the show. You’ll see it described in terms like sumptuous, operatic, Lynchian, bombastic. It’s a show that is deliberately dreamlike, blurring the distinction between fantasy and “reality” (where the reality is, of course, itself a fiction), exploring the beauty of horror in a febrile dream of refined grotesquery. It’s not, perhaps, traditionally “girly.”

Well, until the fans get their hands on it. Source

The cast is also noticeably more male-dominated than Fuller’s previous shows. Even though IMDb’s cast listing suggests that Beverly Katz (Hettienne Park) and Alana Bloom (Caroline Dhavernas, or as she’ll always be to me, Jaye Tyler) are just as prominent as Hannibal and Will Graham, this is really not the case. Katz and Bloom are both pretty awesome, and the choice to genderflip the book’s Alan Bloom was a very good one, but they are definitely backgrounded in comparison to the main dudes.

I like the show fine, but to be perfectly honest I like the fandom more. The fandom is the thing that’s keeping me engaged. Fuller himself expresses it nicely in this Entertainment Tonight interview:

I was surprised at the demographic that the show was reaching. A significant portion was young, smart, well-read women; they really responded to this show and I typically relate to young, bright ladies [laughs]. It was nice to see how enthusiastic and passionate they were. And, also, happy in the face of the dark material. They found joy and hope in something that is arguably quite bleak. I found that really rewarding and as somebody who is a fan of many things myself, I appreciate and relate to being enthusiastic about a show you love. I think it’s wonderful.

Aw, he looks so much less murdery with flowers on his head! Source

One example of what Fuller’s talking about is the whole flower crown incident of 2013. Last year, for whatever reason (can you fathom the mysteries of memes?), the fandom started photoshopping flower crowns onto pictures of the Hannibal cast. The joke spilled over into real life at Comic-Con, where the show’s cast and crew wore actual flower crowns.

Then, of course, there is the inevitable shipping. Fans love their “Hannigram,” the proposed romantic pairing of Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. Canonically, the relationship between Lecter and Graham is certainly intense and obsessive, but it’s fair to say that it’s not really sexual. Fuller’s reponse to the shippers is wonderful.

The correct response to, well, all of fandom.

He’s gracious and respectful, recognizing that slash is an important creative outlet for a lot of people, and opening space for it to exist as a kind of paratextual AU with canon’s blessing. Bryan Fuller is the best at having fans.

The Hannibal fanbase has taken something potentially very twisted and grotesque, and reshaped it into something charming and cuddly, focused on love and flowers and puppies. That in itself is very Bryan Fuller, and it’s also something I find very delightful and redemptive. I think the (young, female) Hannibal fans are doing a really cool counterreading that’s extremely needed by our violence- and crime-obsessed culture. Long may it last.

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Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. You can donate to his surgery fundraiser here.

Fandom, Feminism, and One Direction

One Direction is, first and foremost, a product. And yet I think the consumption of 1D by fans demonstrates that young women are not completely manipulable by corporatocracy, but rather comprise a powerful grassroots movement capable of taking what they are fed and reappropriating it on their own terms, often in ways that defy the design of the corporate media producers.

As feminist critics, we get very frustrated by the constant cultural devaluing of media aimed primarily at girls. It goes farther than just a lot of people saying, “Twilight sucks,” because Twilight does suck, but it’s not always clear if people are making a legitimate critique. Are they saying, “Twilight is poorly written and full of problematic assumptions and messages,” or are they saying, “Ew, it has a female creator, a female protagonist, and a predominantly female fanbase”?

Even the former can contribute to the cultural devaluing of girl stuff. I’ve read literally dozens of feminist critiques of Twilight, some of them very detailed and very thoughtful; but I just don’t see an equivalent barrage of critique leveled at, say, Transformers (which could be considered the masculine-coded equivalent of Twilight). Of course the reason for this is that Twilight, being “for girls,” is more interesting from a feminist standpoint than Transformers and offers a richer vein of potential for feminist analysis; but the upshot is a net contribution to the vastly greater cultural scrutiny of products for girls than of products for boys.

One solution is to quit scrutinizing stuff for girls so closely, but if we do that we lose valuable feminist analysis. Another is to start scrutinizing stuff for boys with the same critical eye, but Jesus Christ, have you seen a Michael Bay Transformers movie? Nobody should be subjected to that. Perhaps the correct counterbalance to feminist critique of bad stuff for girls is the feminist championing of good stuff for girls.

Caveat: when I say “for girls” or “for boys,” I am not being prescriptive. I’m a 24-year-old man writing publicly about my love of One Direction. I do not believe that any book, movie, music, TV show, article of clothing, color, website, philosophy, job, hobby, interest, or anything else is inherently “for girls” or “for boys.” I use the terms advisedly, to refer to the demographic towards which a product is primarily marketed and the demographic that comprises the majority of its consumers (which are not always the same demographic).

Let’s get the unavoidable critiques out the way first. One Direction is the product of a cynical capitalist empire and when you buy your 1D concert tickets (assuming you can – they’re way outside the grad student price range) you are lining the pockets of Simon Cowell and perpetuating the manufacturing of lowest-common-denominator entertainment where artistic merit is firmly subjugated to the concern of profit margins. The band is designed as a hegemonic artifact servicing the production of heteropatriarchal capitalist values: five cute but non-threatening boys for barely-adolescent girls to swoon over and spend their (parents’) money on.

Fan participation is key to how 1D is consumed by its fans. Fanfiction platforms are abuzz with works about 1D, some of it even officially endorsed, and there’s even an iPhone app specifically for 1D fanfiction. Even the lead animator for Archer has gotten in on the action. Of course, it would be remiss of me to talk about 1D fandom without mentioning the Larry shippers – the people who want Louis and Harry to be in a relationship. Obsessive shipping of real people is damn creepy, and when the shippers try to bend reality to their will it gets a little horrifying. But I think for the most part, barring the tinhat fringe, it’s not the “real people” that many shippers are interested in. It’s “Harry” and “Louis,” the public personae, who are by design not real people. The artifice is part of the point. The fantasy of fan participation is the way in which fans, mostly young women, can reclaim agency by writing themselves and their desire into the corporate product they are fed.

The movie One Direction: This Is Us is just one part of the 1D package. It’s a bit of fluff comprising ninety minutes of concert footage and squeaky-clean depictions of the 1D lads being Nice Boys. As an official production, it naturally doesn’t address fan reappropriations, but there’s the kernel of something interesting there. The boys repeatedly thank their fans, claim to have the best fans in the world, say they would be nowhere without the fans. On the one hand this is kind of true, but on the other hand they are a manufactured group who started on a reality TV show and are in the pocket of the most powerful mogul in pop music. The fans may have made the band, but the media empire made the fans.

This is why I think it’s so important to see the fans reacting in ways the media empire couldn’t predict or endorse. These fans are an extremely powerful force, sometimes for ill, sometimes for good, and that cannot be ignored.

Of course, all the focus on the behavior of the fandom can obscure the basic fact that 1D are feelgood and fluffy. Even taking them at face value, they don’t on the whole have a bad message. In a pop milieu that elevates Robin Thicke, 1D are noticeable for their deference to female agency. Every song on their first album, and most of the songs on the subsequent two, are addressed to a non-specific (but usually female) “you.” They are all expressions of blisteringly sincere emotion within the completely artificial framework of the manufactured boy band talking to the generic listener, but the emotions are always gentle. There are the Sad Songs, where the singer (who is, it must be noted, never singular: the five lads divide up lines in all the songs) laments his deep, sincere, unrequited feelings for You; and there are the Happy Songs, where he/they rejoices in deep, sincere, requited love. The subtext of many of these Happy Songs is pretty explicitly sexual, but it’s always entirely reliant on Your – the implied young female listener’s – consent. Take one of my favorites, “Kiss You”:

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/T4cdfRohhcg” title=”One%20Direction,%20%22Kiss%20You%22″]

Tell me girl if every time we touch
You get this kind of rush
Baby say yeah, yeah, yeah

If you don’t wanna take it slow
And you just wanna take me home
Baby say yeah, yeah, yeah

And let me kiss you

You’ll never convince me that this song is actually about kissing. Not only do the opening lines talk about “turn[ing] your love on,” that stuff about not taking it slow and taking the singer(s) home is language more usually associated with sex. Even if you accept the naivety of “kiss” at face value, though, rather than reading it as coy metonymy for sex, the song is explicitly about consent and communication. From the opening verse’s “Tell me how to turn your love on” to the chorus’ exhortation to “say yeah, yeah, yeah,” this whole song is about talking about what you want and making sure your partner is enthusiastically consenting before anything happens. Almost all of the songs, Happy or Sad, grant the (female) listener agency. The narrator lays his feelings bare, and You can prolong or end his misery or joy by reciprocating or not; but the decision is always Yours, and You are never coerced or ill-treated. “Blurred Lines” this is absolutely not.

Let’s get back to the gay shipping though. This Is Us doesn’t address it directly, but it takes care to show the lads’ uniquely close relationship with one another, in a way that’s surely grist to the shippers’ mill. There’s a certain queerness inherent to the homosocial structure of the boy band, noticeably in the collectivity: 1D don’t harmonize all the time, nor do they take turns on songs, but they share lines within the songs. Their songs seem to have a clear, singular narrator, but the five boys take turns being that narrator. The 1D collective addresses the (collectively-singular) listener. In some ways you’re being invited into a relationship with all five of these fellas, even though it is the done thing to have a favorite.

I’m not saying that One Direction is a feminist triumph. It’s still a manufactured boy band, and as such it’s not reinventing the wheel, and the fandom can be absolutely vicious. But I think it’s about time we started giving young girls a little more credit for the way they consume the things they like.

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. He’s not afraid of all the attention, he’s not afraid of running wild.

Father Worship and the ‘Bad Fans’ of ‘Breaking Bad’

Breaking Bad promo still.

Written by Leigh Kolb

Spoilers ahead (through “Ozymandias”)

“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Stand in the desert. … And on the pedestal these words appear: ‘My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: / Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'”

– “Ozymandias,” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

In an analysis of the Sept. 15 episode of Breaking Bad (“Ozymandias”), Emily Nussbaum points out that she thinks Todd “looked very much like the prototypical Bad Fan of Breaking Bad: he arrived late in the story, and he saw Walt purely as a kick-ass genius, worthy of worship.” While his worship of Walt has been clear since Todd arrived on the scene, his continued worship of Walt is what makes him–and the “Bad Fans” he resembles–stand out. Ultimately, there is something fundamentally patriarchal about this kind of father worship, when we gravitate toward and are obsessed with the father figure.

After Sunday’s episode, critic Matt Zoller Seitz took to Twitter to observe

Todd and Bad Fans have that in common: they see Walt as a father figure, worthy of forgiveness and blind worship. He’s Walter White. He’s Heisenberg. He’s a bad-ass who really just has done everything for his (unappreciative!) family.

Jesse, Todd and Walt.

Walt’s children–biological and surrogate–all represent the different types of Breaking Bad fans.

Jesse: a lot of eye-rolling at the beginning, mistrusting yet comforted by Walt’s fatherly role, pulled in to Walt’s world fully, wracked with conflicting feelings, turns against Walt after he kills another father figure, Mike. Yet he is now, against his will, chained back into Walt’s world. This fan didn’t ever really like Walt, but went through phases of loving him and wanting him to be the man she needed in her life. She is heartbroken, but is still stuck deep in the action.

Todd: doting, dumb, reveres Walt. Ignores “dead kids.” See above, in re: the Bad Fan. This fan thinks everything that Walt does is for a good cause, or it’s someone else’s fault if bad things happen. This fan is almost definitely a terrible person.

Walt, Jr. (who will probably go by Flynn forever now): shocked, desperately clinging to hope that everything will be fine, tries to blame Skyler, can’t believe that Walt could have committed those crimes–until Walt lashes out in front of him. Then Junior calls 911. This fan thinks the best of Walt, even though she knows better. By the end of “Ozymandias,” however, she is done with Walt’s shit.

Holly: clueless, confused, a pawn, terrified of Walt’s next move. This fan needs someone to explain to her what happens after each episode. She feels emotionally manipulated.

Walt and his children, who we see suffer because of his actions.

These characters’ relationships with Walt highlight his devolution into something worse than Heisenberg. He lies, kills, plots against and kidnaps. He’s abusive. He’s consumed with his perceived power and greed. How we respond to him, though, is indicative of something larger in our society–a male-centric tendency to search for and cling to a father figure.

It’s not easy to hate a hero. The emotional response we have to characters tells us a great deal about ourselves, and I think for many of us, we watch Walt and want him to be someone he’s not, seeing glimmers of humanity in someone who is increasingly monstrous. Like Jesse, we know. We know how evil Walt is. But we can’t get away.

Jesse, held captive by Todd.

After “Ozymandias” aired (an episode which, by the way, is currently rated 10/10 by over 17,000 reviewers on IMDb), the Todds of the Internet scurried to Walt’s defense. Clearly, Walt is doing everything at this point to ensure that Skyler is seen as innocent, right? That phone call?

When Walt calls Skyler, he rants at her, telling her she’s ungrateful, and always “whining and complaining,” “dragging” him “down.” He calls her a “stupid bitch” and hangs up on her.

His entire monologue could have been lifted from the pages of reddit, or a Facebook page dedicated to hating Skyler White. (During the phone call, my husband smirked and said, “He’s basically saying everything that people say about Skyler–and he’s an abusive egomaniac,” pointing out the genius in such commentary.)

Nussbaum says,

“But what was truly fascinating about that phone call was that if it was trolling the Bad Fan, it was also trolling me: the sort of feminist-minded sucker who took the speech at face value, for nearly an hour, until I suddenly realized, in a flash of clarity, that it was a fake-out for the police. (Skyler realized long before I did.)”

Zoller Seitz, however, thinks that Walt was acting on “impulse,” and that the phone call was “instinctive.” He asserts that Walt was “acting in tandem with Heisenberg” in this scene, doing something “chaotic and frightening, but ultimately good.”

Walt, like Sisyphus (or a dung beetle), trying desperately to get somewhere. He’s almost pitiful again, like his underwear-clad beginnings. But he’s not.

There is clearly more at work here than Walt simply enacting a plan to exonerate Skyler or Walt just lashing out against his wife. Zoller Seitz’s multifaceted analysis of the scene is spot on, and doesn’t give Walt more credit than he deserves. (Zoller Seitz also used Twitter to take down the idea that Walt is some pure “badass genius antihero” who was just acting to protect Skyler.)

That reading–that Walt is some kind of benevolent dictator–inspires the #TeamWalt hashtag on Twitter. Walt’s motivations, intentions and actions are often unclear yet calculated. However, whenever we weigh his actions (that could keep his immediate family safe) against his words, we cannot be on #TeamWalt, hanging out with the fan-boy Todds. We can’t.

At the beginning of “Ozymandias,” Walt orders the neo-Nazis to kill Jesse. Walt sees his life, doomed and destroyed. As they drag Jesse away, Walt growls, “Wait,” and says to him:

“I watched Jane die. I was there. And I watched her die. I watched her overdose and choke to death. I could have saved her. But I didn’t.”

Our faces are pinched, our stomachs turn. We are horrified at Walt’s pride in this admission, and we remember that at that point in the series, we were probably still rooting for Walt. We are also disgusted with ourselves. The fact that we can see humanity in Walt isn’t wrong–that’s good writing. To stubbornly fixate on his heroism, though, is just being blind.

Breaking Bad: just like Twilight.

The look on Jesse’s face–broken and empty–reflects how we (should) feel. And just as his turmoil isn’t yet over, neither is ours. There are two more legs to the journey, two “legs of stone” to finish telling us the story of the fallen king and the decaying waste he’s left behind. If the season thus far has taught us to expect anything, it’s this: brilliant torture through perfect storytelling. We’re scared and in crisis over what to expect. We’re coming to terms with the fact that this father figure is not worthy of worship. The ride is almost over.

________________________________________________________

Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri. She hopes that before she retires, “Breaking Bad as Literature” is standard college fare.

Father Worship and the ‘Bad Fans’ of ‘Breaking Bad’

Breaking Bad promo still.

Written by Leigh Kolb

“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Stand in the desert. … And on the pedestal these words appear: ‘My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: / Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'”

– “Ozymandias,” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

After Sunday’s episode, critic Matt Zoller Seitz took to Twitter to observe

Jesse, Todd and Walt.

Walt’s children–biological and surrogate–all represent the different types of Breaking Bad fans.

Jesse: a lot of eye-rolling at the beginning, mistrusting yet comforted by Walt’s fatherly role, pulled in to Walt’s world fully, wracked with conflicting feelings, turns against Walt after he kills another father figure, Mike. Yet he is now, against his will, chained back into Walt’s world. This fan didn’t ever really like Walt, but went through phases of loving him and wanting him to be the man she needed in her life. She is heartbroken, but is still stuck deep in the action.

Todd: doting, dumb, reveres Walt. Ignores “dead kids.” See above, in re: the Bad Fan. This fan thinks everything that Walt does is for a good cause, or it’s someone else’s fault if bad things happen. This fan is almost definitely a terrible person.

Walt, Jr. (who will probably go by Flynn forever now): shocked, desperately clinging to hope that everything will be fine, tries to blame Skyler, can’t believe that Walt could have committed those crimes–until Walt lashes out in front of him. Then Junior calls 911. This fan thinks the best of Walt, even though she knows better. By the end of “Ozymandias,” however, she is done with Walt’s shit.

Holly: clueless, confused, a pawn, terrified of Walt’s next move. This fan needs someone to explain to her what happens after each episode. She feels emotionally manipulated.

Walt and his children, who we see suffer because of his actions.

Jesse, held captive by Todd.

Nussbaum says,

“But what was truly fascinating about that phone call was that if it was trolling the Bad Fan, it was also trolling me: the sort of feminist-minded sucker who took the speech at face value, for nearly an hour, until I suddenly realized, in a flash of clarity, that it was a fake-out for the police. (Skyler realized long before I did.)”

Walt, like Sisyphus (or a dung beetle), trying desperately to get somewhere. He’s almost pitiful again, like his underwear-clad beginnings. But he’s not.

At the beginning of “Ozymandias,” Walt orders the neo-Nazis to kill Jesse. Walt sees his life, doomed and destroyed. As they drag Jesse away, Walt growls, “Wait,” and says to him:

“I watched Jane die. I was there. And I watched her die. I watched her overdose and choke to death. I could have saved her. But I didn’t.”

Breaking Bad: just like Twilight.

________________________________________________________

YouTube Break: The Twilight Saga: An Interview with Dr. Natalie Wilson

Breaking Dawn, Part 1 opened in theaters last Friday, November 18th. I mainly know this because my sister, a self-professed “Twi-Hard” talked about it nonstop for about two weeks. She also went to the midnight showing. I’ve seen all the previous films in the series and wrote about New Moon awhile ago, and I’m well aware of the feminist criticism of both the novels and the films. I personally find the films fairly nuanced (don’t judge), and I think they invite many different, more complex readings than they’re often given. However, I’d say the series is pretty antifeminist overall. I suppose I’m most bothered by the disgusting, misogynist reaction to the fans of the Twilight Saga (who are mostly young women), and the disgusting, misogynist (and homophobic) reaction to Edward as a sparkly (read: totally, like, gay dude) vampire–as opposed to a super awesome killer vampire who, you know, doesn’t sparkle. And it isn’t surprising that it’s mostly young dudes who lambast girls and women all over the net for loving Twilight, yet it’s perfectly acceptable for them to male bond over the horrible franchise that is Transformers (and to simultaneously ogle Megan Fox’s ass, of course). This is all for another post about The Rise of the Fangirl, though, which I will write one day. At the very least, it’s important to discuss Twilight because it’s the First Franchise Film Series Ever to directly target teen girls, and we should probably look at what that means for the future of films made for young women, especially since the Twilight Saga has been overwhelmingly successful at the box office. Luckily, I found an amazing interview with Dr. Natalie Wilson, who points out some major problems with the Twilight Saga, and who blogs for one of my favorite sites, Professor, What If …?

This post is dedicated to my sister, Heather, who needs to understand that the Twilight Saga is kind of bullshit. I included a transcript in case the video doesn’t play. Enjoy!

Dr. Jenn: This year for Halloween, we’re going to discuss a pop culture phenomenon about vampires: the Twilight Saga. And I actually personally don’t know a lot about Twilight, but we have a local San Diego professor who knows a ton about this–and specifically a lot about bringing a feminist perspective to analyzing this book and movie series. Today we have Natalie Wilson, who’s a professor of Women’s Studies and Literature at Cal State, San Marcos, specializing in pop culture, feminism … and has a particular interest in sexuality, monstrosity, and the body. She blogs for Ms., Girl With Pen, and Womanist Musings, as well as her own blog, and had two books that came out this year: Seduced by Twilight and Theorizing Twilight. Good to have you on the show. So I know that you do a lot of teaching, writing, and research around women’s equality, and that you tie it to a study of popular culture. How do you do that?

Dr. Wilson: Right. Well, I think oftentimes popular culture is written of as just entertainment, as if it doesn’t matter. But actually popular culture is sort of a huge barometer of what’s going on in our society. So I like to think of studying popular culture as sort of taking the pulse of society. And when you look at popular culture, you can tell how healthy or unhealthy some of our views are. And as a women’s studies professor I’m particularly interested in gender and sexuality, and that is what sort of spurred my interest in writing about the Twilight Saga, because it’s a huge cultural phenomenon, and I feel like it sends some rather problematic messages about gender and sexuality.

Dr. Jenn: And I know you’ve even taught a class about this, a college semester long class about it. Okay, so what would you say the Twilight Saga says about gender, women’s sexuality, and sexual health?

Dr. Wilson: Right. Well, in terms of gender, I would say it’s rather regressive, very traditional roles of gender. For females, you’re supposed to first fall in love, then you’re supposed to get married—no sex before marriage—and as soon as you get married, you should have a child. And you should also give up college because you know, you can’t go to college and be a mother; that would be impossible. So, very sort of regressive ideas in terms of femininity and the female role, really marriage and motherhood. And then in terms of masculinity, the males that are held up in the series as the desirable males are very controlling, almost hypermasculine, very strong, very muscular, very domineering, and very possessive and controlling and even violent toward the females in the series.

Dr. Jenn: And that’s what I was going to ask. I know there seems to be a connection between violence and sexuality, so what have you found around that?

Dr. Wilson: In terms of sexuality, the series is often called “abstinence porn.” It kind of drips with sex, but no sex ever really happens, so there’s desire around sex, but you’re not supposed to have sex before marriage, so there’s a definite abstinence message. And in particular, the female of the series, Bella, is held up as the one that’s responsible for not getting the males too excited, and she’s sort of the policer of chastity.

Dr. Jenn: So the responsibility is put on her.

Dr. Wilson: Yes, the responsibility is put on her. The other thing is that there’s this equation with sex and death—because she’s attracted to a vampire and a werewolf, both of who are supernaturally strong, and could kill her very easily. So the idea is if you turn them on, or you get too involved, your life is at risk. So there’s this equation with sex equaling death for females.

Dr. Jenn: Yikes. What about in terms of, like, the importance of how these messages are showing up … because I know if you look at our rates of STDs and pregnancy compared to other countries, there’s a big difference. Can you speak to that?

Dr. Wilson: Yeah. I think one of the things that happens with sexuality in the novel is there’s lots of desire, but there’s no serious conversations around sex. And there’s, you know, “you will be damned if you have sex” or “you will die,” but there’s nothing about contraception or sexual health or what a healthy relationship is; in fact, Edward is quite abusive. On their first night, their first honeymoon night, Bella ends up black and blue the morning after because he’s so strong, and he’s holding onto her so tightly. And this is framed as very hot and exciting rather than as some sort of sexual violence.

Dr. Jenn: And didn’t one of them black out … is that right? … Or didn’t have memories of that?

Dr. Wilson: Right. She wakes up, and she’s in this post-coital euphoria; meanwhile, she’s completely black and blue and supposedly doesn’t realize that she’s black and blue until she looks in the mirror. And then when she looks in the mirror, she calls the bruises decorations, and that they are, you know, him decorating her with his love. So this sort of blurring of sexuality and violence and sex being dangerous … and then what you were saying about STIs and teen pregnancies: it is a series that’s hugely popular with teens and young people, and there’s no emphasis on, you know, that these types of violent relationships are unhealthy. In fact, they’re held up as desirable. There’s never a discussion of contraception. And she does end up pregnant, of course, the night of the honeymoon.

Dr. Jenn: Her first time?

Dr. Wilson: Yeah, her first time. And then that is framed as, you know, the happy ending. Like, the marriage and her becoming a mother are framed as the happy ending.

Dr. Jenn: You’ve said a lot already that’s very impactful. Anything else that you can speak to … what you think … how this impacts the teenagers that are fans of this?

Dr. Wilson: I think an important thing to point out is that it’s had a huge cross-generational impact, so even though teens are a huge part of the fandom, it’s also very popular among twenty and thirty year olds. And there’s the Twilight moms, so it’s really had a pretty big cultural impact. One of the things you might’ve heard of is the tendency to have a team, like, you’re Team Edward or you’re Team Jacob. And that has sort of spilled out into other … I mean, vampire shows, but also other shows as well–like True Blood, there’s Team Eric or Team Bill. And if you notice, all the teams are male. So it’s this very old idea of male as the sexual aggressor; they’re the one who’s in competition for women—very hypermasculine—and then women are held up as, you know, they can be the fans, or they’re literally sort of the objects that the men are fighting over. So it seems to me in terms of it spreading out into popular culture, it’s going backwards and sort of regressing to older ideas about sexuality where the male was supposed to be the aggressor and the female was supposed to be the passive, you know … And of course, very heteronormative, and very … married, monogamous sex is the only type that’s allowed. And there’s this sort of hypermasculine … the bodies of the males in the films as well as in the books–super muscular, super strong. So those are bodies that are often associated with being violent, and in the saga, they are violent; but it’s held up as, “he just couldn’t help himself,” either he was so turned on that he couldn’t help hurting me, or he loves me so much that he became violent and became jealous. And with the rates of, you mentioned, STIs and teen pregnancy, the United States also has the highest rates of teen sexual violence. So it’s kind of saying that teen sexual violence, “it’s just because he loves me so much” or that it’s actually romantic rather than problematic.

Dr. Jenn: Oh my gosh. Thank you. That was a ton of information. Give a hand here for Natalie Wilson. Wow. And if you want to find Natalie online, you can visit Seduced by Twilight.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Athena Film Festival Trailer Contest

“Web Shows Trek Past Sci-Fi’s Color Line” by Aymar Jean Christian for Racialicious

“Leave Kim Alone!” by crunkista for The Crunk Feminist Collective

“Sugar in the Raw Delivers a Sweet Insult” by Larkin for About-Face

“BEV talks to Andrea Arnold about her latest triumph: Wuthering Heights” by Rachel Millward for Birds Eye View

“Pop Culture Really Does Tell You a Lot About How Screwed Up Americans Are” by Amanda Marcotte for Pandagon

“Fanboys, Feminism, and Frank Talk About Wonder Woman” by Tricia Barr for Fangirl, the Blog

“Ricki Lake Delivers Maternal Health Awareness” by Eleanor Goldberg for Huffington Post

14th Annual African American Women in Cinema Film Festival — New York City, Nov. 17-19

“Mom & Pop Culture: McGender: Unpacking the Happy Meal” by Avital Norman Nathman for Bitch Media

Leave your links in the comments!

Degrassi, Teens, and Rape Apologism

This guest post by Marcia Herring previously appeared at Feministing.

A recent plot line in popular teen drama Degrassi: the Next Generation featured what was, for all rights and purposes, date rape. Instead of taking the standard track for the show, Degrassi ignored the issue and made the abusive actions of character Declan all right to thousands of teens watching.

If you are unfamiliar with Degrassi, you can watch the episodes in question (“Love Lockdown, Parts 1 and 2”) here.

Oh, Degrassi. What hath thou wrought?

Background: Tackling issues that many teen dramas often avoid, or get wrong, Degrassi wins awards for its cliched and intense portrayal of high school life. Early years of the Next Generation saw several plotlines getting censored on American television: an abortion, a lesbian relationship, drug usage and consequences, school violence. Now Canadian and American networks work closely together to ensure that the programming is top notch and groundbreaking, including, earlier this year, the first transgender young adult on television (which was, by the way, handled incredibly).

The range of success in portraying teen issues varies, but ever since the original incarnation of Degrassi Junior High in the 1980s, the show has been used as a teaching tool for social situations and family discussions. In the absence of after school specials about what the kids get into these days, it is shows like Degrassi that perhaps show youth positive options to problems they may face.

A History of Rape: Degrassi is no stranger to rape. In season two, bitchy cheerleader Paige was coerced by a guy she liked into an upstairs room at a party, immediately pushed past her comfort zone, and, while shouting “No,” held down and raped. As Feminist Music Geek notes, she used music to help overcome feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness to fight back, and testified against her rapist in court. Later, in season 6, uptight Christian Darcy decided to cut loose and go wild for a weekend: this backfired when her drink was roofied. When she woke up next to her boyfriend, she assumed they had engaged in consensual sex, which was, in itself, bad enough because Darcy had sworn to remain a virgin until marriage. Eventually, enough memory of the night came back (and Peter swore he had done nothing) that Darcy believed she had been raped. She got tested, had an STD, and began a downward spiral that involved a suicide attempt, and sexual advances toward a teacher who tried to help her. Both girls have slow healing processes, but they are shown to heal through extended plotlines, and the recurring issues that these involve (though Darcy is written out of the show so that Shenae Grimes could join the cast of 90210).

Demographics: Now. In addition to teaching life lessons, Degrassi has to drive an audience. The Degrassi audience is, for the purposes of this argument, comprised of 5 somewhat equal parts. Part one is loyal fans. These have seen every episode of every incarnation of the show, and will watch every week. They probably participate in some kind of fandom, whether it be following someone involved on Twitter or reading/writing fanfiction. Part two are new fans. These fluctuate with every generation or group of students that go through. These are the screaming fangirls who tune in when their favorite character has a plotline but doze off at other times. Part three are casual viewers, those who stay on the channel if they have nothing better to do and generally recognize the characters. Part four are parents of teens watching the show, and educators. They might watch with intent to monitor their childrens’ intake, or simply to partake in family time. They offer commentary on the action and are a sounding board for questions that viewers have, stirred up by the episode. They might even be fans themselves. Part five is a wild card: friend of a friend who has to watch the new episode at a sleepover. Boyfriend of a part one. Someone who marathons the show for a week, but then encounters a mean fan and drops the show.

An ideal Degrassi episode will have something for all of these audiences: fanservice (read: hot guys or the couple du jour) for the flighty new group, the structured and dramatic plot that older fans have come to expect, something to keep casual viewers coming back, and an educational value for parents and educators.

Thesis: The recent two-part episode “Love Lockdown” failed on a moral level, one from which I am not sure Degrassi can recover, no matter how many successful episodes follow.

Background: Holly J and Declan began dating in season 9 when he convinced her that he liked her take-charge, sometimes-bitchy attitude and was willing to go the extra mile to find out about her life. Their relationship was often physical, and focused on financial aspects as Declan’s family is very rich and Holly J’s family became quite poor. During their summer vacation (Holly J’s internship) to New York City, Holly J engaged in a rivalry over Declan with his sister, which resulted in Declan’s fluctuating behavior: at first angrily siding with his sister and then dramatically requesting forgiveness on a live television broadcast.

Later, in season 10, Holly J and Fiona (Declan’s sister) have a new friendship, one that is consistently troubled with issues of purchased affections. It is no wonder that this spreads into the relationship between Holly J and Declan: he has been living in New York, and believes that smooth-talking and a beautiful necklace will reassure his place in Holly J’s heart. They go on a break.

In Declan’s absense, Holly J and Sav engage in a casual relationship: flirty and physical. They always appear smiling and happy. Towards recent episodes this might even indicate deeper feelings than their original “only until graduation” pledge.

“Love Lockdown, Part 1”: In “Love Lockdown Part 1,” Declan returns. His goal is to convince Holly J to get back with him. From the moment he sees her with Sav, he does not register Sav as a threat, but as an obstacle to be brushed aside. He just needs to get some time alone with Holly J, and then she will see. For most of the evening, she sticks to Sav’s side (to Declan’s frustration, the episodes are told at his perspective) until Declan creates the perfect distraction: set up a sweet DJ booth for Sav the aspiring musician at a party. This gives Declan the in he has been wanting, where Holly J promptly turns him down. “I’m not going to do anything tonight/at this party”/”I have a boyfriend” are variations on Holly J’s replies to Declan’s pleading. He doesn’t get it.

Little sister to the rescue: Habitual drunk Fiona plays up her level of drunkenness for the sake of big brother’s love life, leaning heavily on her best friend and big brother. Holly J knows how to handle this situation and sends Sav home. Once Fiona is safely tucked in bed, Holly J and Declan are left alone, in the dark, on the sofa. A few words of concern about Fiona, and Declan’s agenda is back on the table. Holly J reiterates that she has a boyfriend, that she isn’t comfortable doing anything, that she doesn’t want to. Words that Declan ignores, kissing her shoulder, her neck. “We shouldn’t.” He kisses her cheek, turns her head, kisses her mouth, and she, reluctantly kisses back as the episode ends.

The reaction: Two definitive camps. Holly J was raped. No means no. And, If you think Holly J was raped you are stupid.

One fan’s reaction.

Most of the replies to this insisted that kissing and “spreading your legs” do in fact indicate consent.

Another fan’s reaction.

Victim blaming. Rape only exists under certain conditions. Holly J wasn’t raped because she didn’t really resist. Real victims suffer for years, they are beaten, drugged, and really abused. Holly J is fine.

“Love Lockdown, Part 2”: The description of the episode: “Holly J feels extremely conflicted about what happened with Declan at his party.” This episode too, though not as much as part 1, is framed in Declan’s narrative.

Holly J and Fiona:

“Last night, I didn’t want things to go as far as they did.”

“Like, as in sex? You and Declan have done that before.”

“No. Last night, I felt … pressured.”

Holly J and Declan:

“I didn’t want to. I told you that!”

“I thought that was because of Sav!”

“Does it matter why?”

Okay, so we’re on the right track, at least to recover from something atrocious. Right? And then, Holly J gets into Yale with Declan … and …

“I don’t know how I feel.”

“He thinks that you think he raped you.”

“I never said that.”

Holly J is backpedaling. Protecting herself from the pain she ends up feeling anyway. Rape is a stigma and a label that she obviously doesn’t want, so she denies it.

Part of the final scene, Holly J and Declan:

“I don’t… think you raped me.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Do you hate me?”

“I regret what happened.”

The reaction: A potentially facetious remark in tumblr RP, made to thedeclancoyne: “Congrats on not being a rapist.”

The results: Internalized rationalizations. If you were in a relationship once, there is always a chance to rekindle, even if you use coercion. If a guy is hot, you probably want it. If you dated a guy once, had sex willingly with him once, you probably want it again. If you say no, but then go along with it, you are saying yes. If you are smart and sassy under normal circumstances but don’t put those skills to use under duress, you obviously didn’t really feel threatened.

These statements fit in perfectly with contemporary culture’s view on rape, but not with what our youth should be learning. Take a look at a few of the graphics and campaigns.

Would it have been difficult for Degrassi to take a step back from the heart-throb Declan’s point of view for a moment, to truly examine the situation, to show viewers that Holly J was over-rationalizing, acting fearful and in denial, instead of staying in Declan’s view and getting a romanticized picture of potential future love? NO.

“Love Lockdown, Parts 1 and 2” is a plotline that asks viewers to side with Declan and apologize for his rape of Holly J. This is simply unacceptable. And then, what prompted me to finally finish up this meta, teennick used this as a valentine:

The lines he used—”back when he was with Jane” (quote @teennick) to initially hook up with her— while she was hesitant, and already dating Spinner. His tradition of claiming and power in relationships is long. And instead of punishing him, we get a Declan valentine.

As of the posting of this entry, Holly J’s plot has not been resolved or addressed.

Marcia Herring is a rollergirl receptionist from Southeast Missouri. She is still working on her graduate degree, but swears to have it done someday. She spends most of her time watching television and movies and wishes she could listen to music and read while doing so without going insane.