Moffat and Feminism in Doctor Who
Okay.
I know I haven't written in my actual LJ for awhile, but I have been actively reading all your LJs and commenting and all that stuff. I love all of you very much, I just don't feel like I have anything interesting to say, or anything much going on in my life, so I don't write.
But I just spent the last 5 hours composing an essay response and rebuttal to annalouwho's allegations of RTD being more sexist and anti-feminist than Moffat, and I'd like to share it. It is not by ANY means an attack on those who enjoy River, Amy, or Eleven/River; it is, simply put, an invitation for discussion.
I would like to start this thoroughly considered rant/essay/argument/rebuttal by saying that I don’t wish to start any fandom wank, character-bashing, or otherwise ill feelings amongst fans. That's not fun for anyone, nor is it productive. I enjoy Stephen Moffat’s characters, I really enjoy his sci-fi writing, and I think it should go without saying that I love Doctor Who despite all its faults and foibles. I just think that issues such as feminism in pop culture merit reasoned discussion, because if you can't discuss the thing you love and its implications than you're not appreciating whatever that "thing" is for its full value. After all, I have many people on my flist who choose to write about Twilight and its implications on feminism in pop culture. It seems only fair that I am able to do the same thing. So, it is in this spirit that I write the following.
Now, I don't want to argue femininity in DW by comparing Moffat’s and RTD’s writing styles, because I think that's on-par with comparing the writing of a Head Writer with Fanfiction. I love RTD, I really do, because he got the whole DW-reboot started and every fan should feel like they owe him a debt of gratitude for that, no matter what their opinions are of him. But as great a producer as he may be, and as much as his ideas came from the heart and were earnestly done with good intentions toward the integrity of the series and out of a love for the characters, the man COULD NOT WRITE. He simply didn't have the ability to handle intricate plots and character developments the way that Moffat currently does.
That said, I do think the Moffat’s female characters are weak, and he does not understand how feminism works. Simply because with every female character he’s written for DW, it doesn’t matter how badass, how independent, how stubborn and willful his women are, at the end of the day they ALWAYS want, and are ALWAYS motivated by the need for, a husband and/or children. Without exception.
This is supported in things he has said in interviews, but most importantly, it’s reflected in his work. From the very beginning with Nancy who, granted, did not end up married, but still required (not just a passing wish for, but a necessary addition to her psyche) the recognition of her child and the rebuilding of that maternal bond for the resolution of her character. Sally Sparrow ended up with the bloke from the TV place, even though she had demonstrated little to no actual interest in him as a potential life partner. And when I say without exception, I mean just that. Even the minor female characters follow this pattern! Sally’s friend Kathy, the dark-haired girl that got sent back to 1920? Everything turned out fine for her, no big deal, because she found a husband and had kids! Who cares that she was ripped forcibly away from her family, her home, and everything she knew? At least she got a chance at a nuclear family unit!
Moffat simply cannot let women remain single, childless, and still happy. Because I honestly don’t think he believes it’s possible.
Even for Donna, arguably the only companion EVER for whom romance was not an enormous presence or goal in her life; the only episode in S4 in which she had ANY romantic or domestic aspirations was in Stephen Moffat’s Library two-parter, when people were sent into worlds they create themselves, and where did Donna go? To a suburban house with a husband and two kids. When she had never before, or after, hinted at wanting that kind of life - indeed, even eschewed it, actively searching for Ten in the space between her Christmas appearance and her re-appearance in S4, telling him later that she regretted not taking the chance to escape that life to do something greater.
Granted, of course, Donna gets forced back into normalcy against her will and seemingly the first thing she does is find a man and get married. Which only shows that RTD and Moffat have the same basic problems, but Moffat just writes better. Both situations are uncharacteristic of Donna, but even her one-episode Library romance had more substance than the Random Generically Friendly Black Dude RTD spat out in “End of Time”. (Really, what was that!? UGH.)
Amy, of course, gets married even though, while she clearly and truly loves Rory, the married life does not seem to be her cup of tea. You even wrote yourself that Rory is the one most obviously invested in their marriage. Amy is more invested in the companionship and love that she and Rory share, which is wonderful.* WHY, then, did they have to get married? What plot purpose does that possibly provide? Why can’t they just be two people in a relationship that love each other and are committed to each other?
Because there is no such thing as unwed happiness in Moffat’s faux-feminist paradigm. Women fall in love and get married, or chase after their loved ones for their entire lives instead.
Which brings us to River. Oh, River. A puzzle wrapped around an enigma surrounded by mysteries and, lest we forget, “spoilers”. I hesitate to make much comment on her because so much about River is still unknown, but there is still enough textual, canonical, non-speculative evidence to indicate that she fits right into Moffat’s normal pattern. She is the ultimate HBIC: brave, badass, headstrong, mischievous, and so, SO clever. She can pilot a TARDIS. She can shoot down a horde of Silence single-handedly. Daleks beg for her mercy. She can break out of prisons multiple times, parade as Cleopatra, and say it’s all in a day’s work.** We are led to believe that she takes orders from no one and lives by her own rules. Pretty fucking awesome.
But despite ALL OF THIS, everything she’s done, everything she continues to do, is motivated by the need to see the Doctor again and recapture his love and approval. This isn’t just wild speculation. She literally says “I live for the days when I see him.” Quickly followed by, “He won’t have the faintest idea who I am… and I think it’s going to kill me.”
What!? Where is the independent woman we’re demonstrated? Rather, here she is saying with complete sincerity that she lives, breathes, and moves through life waiting for the brief snatches of time where she can see her man again, and indeed she believes SHE WILL DIE without his recognition!? Furthermore, SHE’S RIGHT!? Once her man no longer recognizes her, she literally commits suicide! (Granted, for a noble saving-the-day cause, but the point still stands.)
And what happened to her, when she died and was sent into the Library’s mainframe, which we are led to believe (since Doctor Who is not explicitly religious on any side) is a metaphor for heaven? Who was there? Three cute little children in a cute little bedroom, with River reading them a goodnight story. The suburban house and children. Is this consistent with gun-slinging, prison-busting, wild-adventures River?
And am I saying that any woman, even a strong woman, is wrong for wanting a husband, home, and children? No. Not at all. I myself want those things. But what I’m saying is that every single woman Moffat writes, matter how badass or independent he makes them out to be, secretly, ultimately, just wants a husband and child. And that assumption, as a blanket assumption, is inherently sexist and, yes, anti-feminist.
* I’m obviously leaving the subject of children in Amy and Rory’s alone, since at this point in the series it’s impossible to speculate on.
**I’m also DYING to find out how the heck she’s doing all this time-traveling without a TARDIS or any visible Time Agent gear. I hope that gets explained.
I know I haven't written in my actual LJ for awhile, but I have been actively reading all your LJs and commenting and all that stuff. I love all of you very much, I just don't feel like I have anything interesting to say, or anything much going on in my life, so I don't write.
But I just spent the last 5 hours composing an essay response and rebuttal to annalouwho's allegations of RTD being more sexist and anti-feminist than Moffat, and I'd like to share it. It is not by ANY means an attack on those who enjoy River, Amy, or Eleven/River; it is, simply put, an invitation for discussion.
I would like to start this thoroughly considered rant/essay/argument/rebuttal by saying that I don’t wish to start any fandom wank, character-bashing, or otherwise ill feelings amongst fans. That's not fun for anyone, nor is it productive. I enjoy Stephen Moffat’s characters, I really enjoy his sci-fi writing, and I think it should go without saying that I love Doctor Who despite all its faults and foibles. I just think that issues such as feminism in pop culture merit reasoned discussion, because if you can't discuss the thing you love and its implications than you're not appreciating whatever that "thing" is for its full value. After all, I have many people on my flist who choose to write about Twilight and its implications on feminism in pop culture. It seems only fair that I am able to do the same thing. So, it is in this spirit that I write the following.
Now, I don't want to argue femininity in DW by comparing Moffat’s and RTD’s writing styles, because I think that's on-par with comparing the writing of a Head Writer with Fanfiction. I love RTD, I really do, because he got the whole DW-reboot started and every fan should feel like they owe him a debt of gratitude for that, no matter what their opinions are of him. But as great a producer as he may be, and as much as his ideas came from the heart and were earnestly done with good intentions toward the integrity of the series and out of a love for the characters, the man COULD NOT WRITE. He simply didn't have the ability to handle intricate plots and character developments the way that Moffat currently does.
That said, I do think the Moffat’s female characters are weak, and he does not understand how feminism works. Simply because with every female character he’s written for DW, it doesn’t matter how badass, how independent, how stubborn and willful his women are, at the end of the day they ALWAYS want, and are ALWAYS motivated by the need for, a husband and/or children. Without exception.
This is supported in things he has said in interviews, but most importantly, it’s reflected in his work. From the very beginning with Nancy who, granted, did not end up married, but still required (not just a passing wish for, but a necessary addition to her psyche) the recognition of her child and the rebuilding of that maternal bond for the resolution of her character. Sally Sparrow ended up with the bloke from the TV place, even though she had demonstrated little to no actual interest in him as a potential life partner. And when I say without exception, I mean just that. Even the minor female characters follow this pattern! Sally’s friend Kathy, the dark-haired girl that got sent back to 1920? Everything turned out fine for her, no big deal, because she found a husband and had kids! Who cares that she was ripped forcibly away from her family, her home, and everything she knew? At least she got a chance at a nuclear family unit!
Moffat simply cannot let women remain single, childless, and still happy. Because I honestly don’t think he believes it’s possible.
Even for Donna, arguably the only companion EVER for whom romance was not an enormous presence or goal in her life; the only episode in S4 in which she had ANY romantic or domestic aspirations was in Stephen Moffat’s Library two-parter, when people were sent into worlds they create themselves, and where did Donna go? To a suburban house with a husband and two kids. When she had never before, or after, hinted at wanting that kind of life - indeed, even eschewed it, actively searching for Ten in the space between her Christmas appearance and her re-appearance in S4, telling him later that she regretted not taking the chance to escape that life to do something greater.
Granted, of course, Donna gets forced back into normalcy against her will and seemingly the first thing she does is find a man and get married. Which only shows that RTD and Moffat have the same basic problems, but Moffat just writes better. Both situations are uncharacteristic of Donna, but even her one-episode Library romance had more substance than the Random Generically Friendly Black Dude RTD spat out in “End of Time”. (Really, what was that!? UGH.)
Amy, of course, gets married even though, while she clearly and truly loves Rory, the married life does not seem to be her cup of tea. You even wrote yourself that Rory is the one most obviously invested in their marriage. Amy is more invested in the companionship and love that she and Rory share, which is wonderful.* WHY, then, did they have to get married? What plot purpose does that possibly provide? Why can’t they just be two people in a relationship that love each other and are committed to each other?
Because there is no such thing as unwed happiness in Moffat’s faux-feminist paradigm. Women fall in love and get married, or chase after their loved ones for their entire lives instead.
Which brings us to River. Oh, River. A puzzle wrapped around an enigma surrounded by mysteries and, lest we forget, “spoilers”. I hesitate to make much comment on her because so much about River is still unknown, but there is still enough textual, canonical, non-speculative evidence to indicate that she fits right into Moffat’s normal pattern. She is the ultimate HBIC: brave, badass, headstrong, mischievous, and so, SO clever. She can pilot a TARDIS. She can shoot down a horde of Silence single-handedly. Daleks beg for her mercy. She can break out of prisons multiple times, parade as Cleopatra, and say it’s all in a day’s work.** We are led to believe that she takes orders from no one and lives by her own rules. Pretty fucking awesome.
But despite ALL OF THIS, everything she’s done, everything she continues to do, is motivated by the need to see the Doctor again and recapture his love and approval. This isn’t just wild speculation. She literally says “I live for the days when I see him.” Quickly followed by, “He won’t have the faintest idea who I am… and I think it’s going to kill me.”
What!? Where is the independent woman we’re demonstrated? Rather, here she is saying with complete sincerity that she lives, breathes, and moves through life waiting for the brief snatches of time where she can see her man again, and indeed she believes SHE WILL DIE without his recognition!? Furthermore, SHE’S RIGHT!? Once her man no longer recognizes her, she literally commits suicide! (Granted, for a noble saving-the-day cause, but the point still stands.)
And what happened to her, when she died and was sent into the Library’s mainframe, which we are led to believe (since Doctor Who is not explicitly religious on any side) is a metaphor for heaven? Who was there? Three cute little children in a cute little bedroom, with River reading them a goodnight story. The suburban house and children. Is this consistent with gun-slinging, prison-busting, wild-adventures River?
And am I saying that any woman, even a strong woman, is wrong for wanting a husband, home, and children? No. Not at all. I myself want those things. But what I’m saying is that every single woman Moffat writes, matter how badass or independent he makes them out to be, secretly, ultimately, just wants a husband and child. And that assumption, as a blanket assumption, is inherently sexist and, yes, anti-feminist.
* I’m obviously leaving the subject of children in Amy and Rory’s alone, since at this point in the series it’s impossible to speculate on.
**I’m also DYING to find out how the heck she’s doing all this time-traveling without a TARDIS or any visible Time Agent gear. I hope that gets explained.