Gender in Contemporary Science Fiction and Fantasy Television

E. Michele Ramsey

Elyce Rae Helford, editor. Fantasy Girls: Gender in the New Universe of Science Fiction and Fantasy Television. New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000. xxi + 273 pages. Index. $65.00 (cloth); $22.95 (paper).

Those of us who teach and write about gender and the media know that a chief obstacle is the lack of current scholarship on the subject. For those who do not teach media courses, but are personally or academically interested in the topic nonetheless, books like Fantasy Girls will help make sense of the amazing popularity of current television shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena: Warrior Princess. Rae asserts that “gender representation and feminist issues on television throughout the ‘90s attempted to carefully negotiate the feminist activism of the ‘70s and the backlash against feminism from the ‘80s. In this context, programs with strong primary female characters, such as some science fiction and fantasy programming from the ‘90s,” are “important media results of this arbitration.” (7). Regardless of why you are interested in this media phenomenon, Fantasy Girls is a must-read.

The first section of the book is devoted to programs set in a present-day context. Taking on Sabrina the Teenage Witch, authors Sarah Projansky and Leah R. Vande Berg note that Sabrina is located at the junction of two principal facets of contemporary media culture—a fascination with girls (the authors cite numerous media products focused on girls) and the growing inclusion of postfeminist ideas in contemporary media products. The authors argue that Sabrina “offers empowering representations of independent girls who have access to equality and engage in cross-gender behavior” but that it “simultaneously contains those representations within narratives that emphasize beauty, male attention, and taking responsibility for others” (16). Projansky and Vande Berg also address the lesbian-coded nature of the two aunts who rear Sabrina, the weak co-optation of multiculturalism in the program, and the exercise of class privilege and consumerism through the use of magical powers. In the second essay of this section, Nicole Matthews and Farah Mendleson analyze the popular situation comedy Third Rock from the Sun. The authors note that the program’s emphasis on the mind/body separation allows the show to point out the performative nature of gender, but also caution that the radical potential of this message is severely undercut by the representation of Sally (a male alien “trapped” in a female’s body) as a prototypical “ditzy housewife”; by contradictory messages about gender as innate versus gender as socially constructed; and by the “objectification and humiliation of the female body as its primary source of humor” (58). In her analysis of The X-Files, author Linda Badley focuses primarily on Scully’s position as it is related to that of Mulder, the show’s other (and initially, significantly better paid) co-star, but also addresses important issues such as the program’s connections to postmodernism, postfeminism, and posthumanism. Badley bolsters her arguments with analyses of Scully fan clubs; the public communication of the actor who plays Scully, Gillian Anderson; and media coverage of the show itself. Rhonda V. Wilcox’s analysis of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman notes that while Lois is in some ways a feminist model of intellect, power, morals, and caring, her character frequently gives way to more patriarchal notions of women as unable to get along with each other (most other women in the series were portrayed negatively), as unable to balance professional and personal lives, and as an object of the male gaze.

The book’s second section focuses on texts centered in the realm of the fantastic. Jessica A. Royer’s essay on Mystery Science Theater 3000 makes a strong case that the three “viewers” of the films reviewed in each episode are hardly equitable in their pointed critiques of ‘50s social conventions surrounding males and females. The critics are typically quick to make fun of the outdated male characters in the films but rarely note the offensiveness of the passive females—instead, the critics make fun of their passivity. Moreover, when a female is added to the cast she is typecast as a (radical) feminist “angry bitch” (129). Therefore, Royer contends, women in the program have “essentially no correct option” and thus are consistently the butt of the critics’ jokes, which tend to be aggressive and sexual in nature (123). Elyce Rae Helford’s analysis of Xena: Warrior Princess directs our attention toward the political limitations of the feminist and lesbian readings of the series. Specifically, Helford notes that the program does “effectively challenge problematic aspects of gender essentialism, represents friendship between women as a positive and important element of women’s lives,” and “escapes static notions of sexuality and representations of homosexuality” by offering characters who can be read as lesbian, bisexual, or non-monogamous without including a critique of their lifestyles in the storyline (158). Helford warns, however, that the violence and sexual politics of the show undermine more liberating readings by conflating strength with violence and butchness with hypermasculinity, thereby representing violence as the center of butch/femme relationships (158).

Kent Ono’s analysis of Buffy the Vampire Slayer focuses on race as well as gender. Ono points to the representation of Buffy as a marginal character to be valued primarily as a result of those she is measured against—the villains, or “others.” Ono argues that people of color (who are typically cast as “others”) are represented negatively through the consistent use of the intricate media metaphors of light/dark, above/below, and human/nonhuman, literal racist representations, and the occasional promotion (and even celebration) of xenophobia. Ono also contends that the program co-opts the popular ‘90s rhetoric of “girl power” in a manner that conflates the potential liberation of such rhetoric with violent aggression by white young females.

Disney’s newest, multicultural version of Cinderella is analyzed by Marleen S. Barr, who argues that the multi-racial casting is merely a cosmetic adjustment in the narrative, because the characters themselves never actually experience race. In this new version of the tale, race relations are not a problem, assimilation to white culture is the key to success, and those in power are still primarily white. Barr also notes that even in the attempt at political correctness with a multi-racial cast, Disney still finds humor at the expense of women through their representations of talkative, obese, and older women, as well as stereotypes of Jewish motherhood.

The final section of Fantasy Girls addresses science fiction television of the future by concentrating specifically on three different series of the Star Trek saga. Robin A. Roberts first addresses Star Trek: Voyager and notes that the series allowed for the voicing of feminist ethics with regard to scientific discovery. Race in this series, argues Roberts, is represented by aliens and cyborgs, and she notes how race, gender, and science play a consistent role in the decisions made by the three primary female characters with regard to their own scientific work and in regard to science more generally. Roberts argues that the show is successful in its “optimistic representation of conflict resolution” and in its suggestion that “women scientists, working together, can overcome the barriers created by race” (219).

Next, Sharon Ney and Elaine M. Sciog-Lazarov address the construction of feminine identity in Babylon 5. The authors specifically discuss the characters of Susan Ivanova, Lyta Alexander, and Ambassador Delenn. The authors contend that Ivanova is dually represented as a masculine and militant feminist and as a traditionally gendered female who looks to patriarchal approval and love from a man for her self esteem. Moreover, her masculinity and femininity are clearly compartmentalized leaving the masculine/feminine binary intact. The authors define Lyta Alexander as “the epitome of eager submissiveness” and other-directedness (231). They also note that her story represents a powerful message about gender roles. Her story stands as a “scathing indictment of traditional roles for women and the consequences for breaching them—the danger of uncontrolled female power and sexuality” (236). Finally, the authors analyze Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari. The authors focus primarily on the effects of Delenn’s relationship with Captain Sheridan—as her growing dependency on Sheridan “undermines her power and authority in their personal relationship” and causes her to vacillate between “aggressive, self-confident hero and passive heroine” (239). The authors argue that the women of Babylon 5 have “important and powerful roles” but that the validation of their identity, power, and sexuality comes from men. They also note, however, that the series points to the relatively poor choices offered to women in society and highlights the fluidity of gender roles as they relate to power and social context.

The final essay of the book, written by Hanley E. Kanar, tackles the issues of disability and gender in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The piece discusses DS9 within the larger context of the Americans with Disabilities Act and the public persona of Christopher Reeve, who as a result of his disabling accident now focuses on what Kanar labels “find-a-cure” rhetoric to the detriment of work on improving the social and economic circumstances of disabled Americans. Centered on a cartographer named Ensign Melora Pazlar, the essay emphasizes crew reactions to Pazlar’s request for accommodation (which they seemingly feel are unreasonable) and the construction of Pazlar as “hypersensitive and churlish, even bitchy instead of justified” (253) simply because she dares to request equal access and claims to know better than the medical staff what is best for her. Kanar also points to the recognition of a central tenet of disability politics by DS9—the rejection of ability as superior. Pazlar has the opportunity to “walk” but chooses her natural state of weightlessness over a step up the career ladder. As Kanar notes, the decision not to walk (the rejection of ability as superior) leaves no room for Pazlar on the ship and therefore also leaves no room for her on the show (characters in the show typically assimilate or disappear). As was true with the other females covered in this section of the book, Pazlar’s capabilities and intelligence are also severely downplayed once romance enters her life (she becomes involved with the doctor working to help her walk). In the end, Kanar argues that in spite of the lip service paid to issues affecting disabled members of society by DS9, the show’s writers, directors, and producers are unable to allow for much sustained or liberatory treatment of the issues surrounding disability (259).

Fantasy Girls is a remarkable book in a number of respects. First, it brings together solid essays regarding television shows that are relatively recent if not still on the air. Thus, the book is a fine tool for those interested in contemporary media texts, and serves teachers well as it enables them to share ideas about media literacy, criticism, and production using texts that students are more likely to have some experience with in their own lives. Each essay in the book is written in a manner that allows readers to understand fully the arguments made about each series even if the reader has not seen the series. Each author does a good job of providing the right amount of background information so that the reader can understand his or her arguments. Many of the essays in Fantasy Girls also do a good job of making arguments about TV series and then connecting those arguments to larger cultural contexts, making for a good mixture of close textual analysis and discussion of the larger implications of the texts themselves. The essays each point to distinctly different issues with regard to gender including race, socioeconomic status, and disability.

I would have liked to see a more sustained treatment of masculinity in the book. A few essays touch briefly on issues of masculinity, but none focus on masculinity specifically. Like our tendency to pretend that White Americans do not have “race,” we also tend to focus on gender roles as they relate to females to the exclusion of a recognition that gender roles affect males, too. In focusing more on gender as it relates to the lives of females, we fail to address the ways in which masculinity and femininity help define one another and the negative consequences of notions of masculinity on the lives of males and females. Edited volumes have a unique opportunity to expand our understandings of the salient issues surrounding any area of research by pointing us in many different directions with regard to a general research topic. Even in television shows centered on females, important issues of masculinity necessarily emerge and a greater recognition of those issues would make for a stronger volume of essays.

E. Michele Ramsey is an Assistant Professor of Speech Communication at Penn State, Berks-Lehigh Valley College.