Feminist Doctor Who, Part 4: Donna Noble

I’m a Whovian, which means that I’m a member of the Doctor Who fandom. Doctor Who, the smash BBC hit that was named the longest-running science fiction television show by Guinness World Records, was revived in 2005 after over a decade of hiatus. Throughout the classic show and modern revival, the Doctor travels in his TARDIS spaceship through time and space with companions, saving small cities as well as the entire universe from disaster. Many feminist Whovians have analyzed the Doctor and his companions’ representations of gender, race, and sexuality; in this series, I give some of my own interpretations.

Donna Noble originally appeared in the 2006 Christmas special, but traveled with the Doctor as a companion for all of Series 4. Donna is a departure from the other companions of the modern series in many ways, and she is widely loved for marching to this divergent beat.

The casting of Catherine Tate as Donna is one significant way she is distinguishable from other companions. For one, she is the first female companion who is not thin, and is in her 40s rather than teens or 20s. Her determined defiance of societal beauty standards was a first for a companion on Doctor Who, and – as academics and Whovians have noted alike – a step in the right direction towards a reformation of beauty standards. Tate was also a well-known comedian, another difference in casting from Billie Piper, John Barrowman, and Freema Agyeman.

Donna is different than other companions, and other female characters on television in general, because, as Martha Wells says in her essay in Chicks Unravel Time, she “save[s] the universe by being her abrasive, forward, loud, in-your-face, aggressive self.” She never worships the Doctor, defers to his expertise, or expects him to swoop in and save the day, doubting and arguing with him more than any other companion does. She consistently does whatever she thinks is right to preserve life, even urging the Doctor to follow her lead and save people he never would have thought to rescue otherwise in “The Fires of Pompeii.” Although Donna is portrayed as rather ditzy at times, at the end of the day, she knows how to take care of herself. In “Turn Left,” the audience sees that when Donna is provoked into changing her mind by her mother, the entire timeline of the world changes, falling into chaos and catastrophe. This shows that Donna and even the world at large are better off when she does what she thinks is right, not what other people want her to do.

Donna is unapologetically who she is. Although she is not a love interest for the Doctor, she is portrayed as attractive to men, about be married in the first episode she appears in “The Runaway Bride” and getting engaged after she parts ways with the Doctor in “The End of Time.” However, she does not need to have a romantic relationship with the Doctor to have a personality; the two can just be good friends who care deeply about each other, and there is no drama or entertainment lost.

Fan approval of Donna is overwhelming. Whovians tend to like Donna for the reasons enumerated above, including her atypical figure and confidence in her own abilities. Many also like her because of her strong evolution throughout the season, she calls the Doctor out when he needs to be checked, and she takes her life into her own hands and actively seeks out the Doctor when she decides that she wants to travel with him. Many explicitly feminist fans of Donna, such as myself, like how she is portrayed as the Doctor’s equal.

Not every Whovian loves Donna, though. Some find her overly abrasive, bossy (perhaps Sheryl Sandberg is on the right track?), and just irritating. Whovians are often frustrated with the Doctor’s insistence that she is the most special person in the universe via her connection with him, because she’s important in her own not, not because she’s the Doctor. Even Whovians who generally like Donna are frustrated by her character’s ending: the Doctor wipes her memory of all the fantastic adventures they took together, the alternative being that her mind will burn up from the memories and she will die.

Although I too was unsatisfied with how Davies ended Donna’s run with the Doctor, I still really, really like Donna. She is arguably the most feminist companion the Doctor has had in the modern revival of the show, and I love her for it. She creates and maintains a meaningful, non-romantic relationship with the Doctor, which is important to establish in the wake of Rose and Martha’s love for him. She trusts her own judgment and has confidence in her own abilities. She is unapologetically herself, and yet still attains success and happiness. Donna is a feminist, even if she never uses the label, and it’s downright awesome.

Feminist Doctor Who, Part 3: Martha Jones

I’m a Whovian, which means that I’m a member of the Doctor Who fandom. Doctor Who, the smash BBC hit that was named the longest-running science fiction television show by Guinness World Records, was revived in 2005 after over a decade of hiatus. Throughout the classic show and modern revival, the Doctor travels in his TARDIS spaceship through time and space with companions, saving small cities as well as the entire universe from disaster. Many feminist Whovians have analyzed the Doctor and his companions’ representations of gender, race, and sexuality; in this series, I give some of my own interpretations.

After Rose is parted from the Doctor in Series 2, Martha Jones, portrayed by Freema Agyeman, joins the Doctor as a companion for his travels for Series 3. In the modern series, she is the second companion of color (after Rose’s boyfriend Mickey) and first female companion of color. Her race is rarely recognized; one of the few exceptions to this rule is when the Doctor takes her to Elizabethan England in “The Shakespeare Code,” and Martha expresses concern that she could be taken as a slave because of her skin color.

Martha’s race is tacitly acknowledged in Series X, when viewers learn that she and Mickey got married. This color match – the happy coincidence that the only two major characters of color just end up together, despite originally living in completely separate universes – has not remained unnoticed by Whovians. Although there is certainly a plethora of fans who ship the two and write Mickey-Martha fanfic, their marriage is largely unpopular, and I can’t say I like it either. Mickey and Martha are two very different people, but past their shared skin color, proclivity for adventure and aliens, and association with the Doctor, there is little that they have in common.

Although the show itself does not often directly acknowledge Martha’s race, it is an integral part of how her character is portrayed. Martha falls into the racialized and gendered trope of mammy, as care of the Doctor falls into her hands. This is unique to her among all of the companions; when the other (white) ones are gendered, they are usually treated as damsels in distress. This caring role can be in the Series 3 episodes “Human Nature/The Family of Blood,” when the two spend time in 1913 and Martha pretends to be the Doctor’s maid. Science fiction and feminist writer K. Tempest Bradford points out that “Human Nature/The Family of Blood” was adapted from a Doctor Who book about the Doctor and a white companion who pretends to be his niece, not his maid, making the Series 3 episodes even more troubling.

Martha cares for the Doctor again in the following episode, “Blink,” when the two find themselves in 1969 and she gets a job in a shop to support him. It is possible that working as a shop girl is the only job open to her as a black woman in the 1960s, even though the show has previously established the undesirability of such a job (after all, Rose runs from her position in that profession the moment she can) and Martha is a medical student who is qualified to do much more. Bradford once more faults Doctor Who writers for putting Martha into an era where she would be particularly vulnerable to prejudice. Why do they never get trapped in the future, where there is presumably less racism, or perhaps – even more radically – it is even gone? If homophobia has been erased by the 51^st century, would racism not also be an extinct social phenomenon, particularly in light of the diverse number of alien races shown in Doctor Who that mingle with humankind by that point in the future?

Martha’s mammy-like care for the Doctor is not only physical; she also takes care of the Doctor emotionally, assuming the responsibility of helping him heal in the wake of losing Rose. Her facilitation of the Doctor’s healing is done at her own expense, as she falls into unrequited love with him. Many Whovians have expressed their frustration with the fact that Martha possesses this unreturned crush on the Doctor for the entire Series 3. I have to admit that I really like Martha, but her season-long crush was irritating. She is a rich character in the first place, rendering the love plotline entirely unnecessary, particularly because it does not lead to any character development.

However, not every Whovian holds Martha’s crush on the Doctor against her. Some feel that it enhances Martha’s character, making her more relatable. Others defend Martha by pointing out that many people would fall in love with an exotic person who travels through time with them and takes them on all sorts of exciting adventures, and that when Martha realized that traveling with the subject of her unrequited crush was unhealthy, she actively decided to leave the situation. Martha’s choice to leave the Doctor for self-care, and her subsequent successful career at UNIT, the extraterrestrial investigations agency, sets an excellent example to Whovians in unproductive relationships.

Overall, I do think that Martha is a feminist character. Despite all of the setbacks she experiences while traveling with the Doctor due to both her race and her gender, she manages to find adventure, enjoyment, and fun during her visits throughout time and space. Although she is only the Doctor’s regular companion for one season, her influence on viewers is still strong, encouraging them to find their way in the universe, whether flying solo or with a partner. Either way, you’ll still be able to lead a happy, enjoyable life. 

Feminist Doctor Who, Part 2: Jack Harkness

I’m a Whovian, which means that I’m a member of the Doctor Who fandom. Doctor Who, the smash BBC hit that was named the longest-running science fiction television show by Guinness World Records, was revived in 2005 after over a decade of hiatus. Throughout the classic show and modern revival, the Doctor travels in his TARDIS spaceship through time and space with companions, saving small cities as well as the entire universe from disaster. Many feminist Whovians have analyzed the Doctor and his companions’ representations of gender, race, and sexuality; in this series, I give some of my own interpretations.

Captain Jack Harness, portrayed by John Barrowman, is an immortal time traveler from the 51st century. He joins the Doctor early in the modern series, making sporadic appearances in Series 1, 3, and 4.

From the first episode he is featured, Jack is unabashedly queer, flirting with humans and aliens of any and all genders and sexualities. He even shares a kiss with both the Doctor and Rose in the Series 1 finale “The Parting of the Ways.” Considering the episode’s airdate of 2005, the inclusion of such a controversial scene was risky, particularly for a show whose future was uncertain in the first place.

Doctor Who writer Russell T. Davies is largely the pioneer behind Jack’s innovative representation of queerness. Davies has been praised for writing Jack’s sexual orientation into the series in such a casual way, as if it was not groundbreaking for a non-heterosexual character to be portrayed as a good guy or for two men to share an on-screen kiss. At one point in the show, the Doctor implies that pansexuality is characteristic of everyone from 51st century. Through this vision of the future as a queer utopia and his more throwaway attitude towards Jack’s sexuality, Davies normalizes non-heterosexuality and makes it unremarkable, rather than something that has to be celebrated or condemned.

Certainly, Jack’s sexuality has garnered criticism, leading some fans to claim that Davies wrote Jack as part of a so-called gay agenda. Interestingly, other critics take the opposite tack, complaining that Jack, and Doctor Who in general, is not sufficiently gay. Davies is dismissive of all of these critics; in the book Triumph of a Time Lord, academic Matt Hills quotes him as saying that “to get hung up on it [Jack’s sexuality] is almost too sad for words.”

Despite – or perhaps because of – his sexuality, fans are extremely positive about Jack. Academics and Doctor Who aficionados like Matt Hills, Shoshana Magnet and Robert Smith?, and Tom Spilsbury have praised Jack for portraying a positive queer role model that counters homophobic prejudices in addition to challenging allies’ preconceived notions of what queerness is.

Jack is probably my favorite guy companion of the Doctor’s. His constant flirtations often provide comic relief, and I feel that the plots he’s involved in are extremely well-written and intelligently crafted. (I mean, Face of Boe? I did not see that coming. That was awesome.) I appreciate that nobody ever questions whether Jack is really pansexual (“are you sure you’re not just gay?” “wait, so are you gay or straight?”), and that nobody ever discriminates against him or treats him differently because of his sexuality. I also like that he’s shown as masculine, since it contests perceptions of queer men as effeminate.

I don’t think it’s possible to question the feminist merits of Captain Jack. Since he is a time traveler from three thousand years in the future, he allows viewers to imagine a world where sexuality is mundane and homophobia is nonexistent. His positive portrayal of queerness on a television show in the first decade of the 21^st century, he had a practical impact on viewers’ perceptions of alternative sexualities. Basically, I think Jack is made of awesome, and I don’t understand people who feel otherwise.

Feminist Doctor Who, Part 1: Rose Tyler

I’m a Whovian, which means that I’m a member of the Doctor Who fandom. Doctor Who, the smash BBC hit that was named the longest-running science fiction television show by Guinness World Records, was revived in 2005 after over a decade of hiatus. Throughout the classic show and modern revival, the Doctor travels in his TARDIS spaceship through time and space with companions, saving small cities as well as the entire universe from disaster. Many feminist Whovians have analyzed the Doctor and his companions’ representations of gender, race, and sexuality; in this series, I give some of my own interpretations.

Rose Tyler, played by Billie Piper, is the Doctor’s first companion in the modern series, traveling with him in every episode in Series 1 and 2. She is arguably one of the most controversial companions, generating a huge range of opinions among Doctor Who fans.

Many Whovians are negative about Rose. Some claim that she is a Mary Sue, or an over-idealized projection of the author (in this case, Doctor Who writer Russell T. Davies) who can do no wrong. Others feel that Rose lacks evolution as a character, and many bemoan what they feel was a downhill turn that the plot took when she and the Doctor fell in love. In their essay in the collection Chicks Dig Time Lords, academics Shoshana Magnet and Robert Smith? criticize Rose for falling into the gendered roles of mother, maiden, and damsel in distress, as she takes on a nurturing role with the Doctor, becomes his love interest, and depends on him to save her, respectively.

Personally, Rose is one of my favorite companions, and I can’t see eye to eye with people who don’t like her. I genuinely don’t think that she is remotely like a Mary Sue, since she possesses legitimate flaws; for example, she shows selfishness when she leaves her mother and long-time boyfriend to travel with the Doctor after one chance meeting. The Mary Sue allegation is often the product of misogynistic attitudes, as it is rarely leveled at male characters, and I think that people who call Rose a Mary Sue are just falling into that sexist trap. Whovians who bash Rose often call her a Mary Sue and chav in the same breath, which implies that fans’ dislike of Rose and their desire to dismiss her stems from classism.

But when Whovians call Rose a chav, they misunderstand her. The whole point is that Rose is supposed to be an average person - she “don’t got no A-levels, no job, no future,” as she says about herself in the first episode, “Rose.” She’s just a 19-year-old working class shop girl with few opportunities for advancement, a bad dye job, and too much make up. And yet, she saves the universe on several occasions, both with and without the Doctor. Traveling in the TARDIS alongside the Doctor and learning what she is capable of helps Rose find purpose, giving her confidence in her abilities. This self-assurance enables her to save the word singlehandedly in the Series 1 finale “The Parting of the Ways.”

I really do believe that Rose is a dynamic character who develops as the seasons progress. I don’t understand why people feel that her character suffers when she becomes the Doctor’s love interest; on the contrary, I feel that their relationship enriches Rose’s character. Yes, she is inconsolable after her separation from the Doctor at the end of Series 2, but would you not be incredibly depressed if you were abruptly taken from your loved one? Her mourning does not mean that she did not develop as a character. Indeed, the fact that she loses him while she’s helping save the world shows that she progressed from the girl she was in “Rose,” who said that she didn’t have a future. By making the decision to travel with the Doctor and learning from her experiences with him, she gives herself a future.

Is Rose a feminist character? I think so. As a teenager, Rose holds particular influence over younger viewers, but the messages she imparts are applicable to women of any age group. She shows us that you can be a BAMF who saves the world and still get the guy; you don’t need to stifle yourself or dumb yourself down to be attractive. Rose’s humble origins as a shop girl, an everyday person, show us that you don’t have to be born special or extraordinary to become that way. She encourages us to take agency over our own lives, make our own decisions, and have fun while doing it.

Being Fatherless on Father's Day, and Other Musings

See? Power tools.

In the past two weeks, I’ve been inundated with television commercials advertising golf clubs, power tools, red meat, and other articles that are supposed to define American masculinity. Images in clothing catalogs and magazine ads impart the message that real fathers are men who are married to women, can fix cars, and frequently make barbecues in their spacious backyards. Internet popups tell me that I should remember to buy those tickets to the game on Sunday, as if I could forget when Father’s Day is.

I know that the above paragraph reads as incredibly bitter, particularly in light of the fact that my dad died a year and a half ago. But in all honesty, I really don’t resent the existence of this holiday. I understand that most people have fathers, and just because mine isn’t here anymore doesn’t mean that other people should be kept from celebrating the contributions that their fathers made to their lives. I mean, Father’s Day (and Mother’s Day, while we’re on the subject) always struck me as a little inane, even when my father was living. Children should be celebrating their parents every day of the week, not just on one arbitrarily chosen day in the spring. But I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the idea of Father’s or Mother’s Day.

It’s just that things tend to get tricky when you have people who don’t have a parent, or have one who is absent in mind or body. My elementary school had an annual mother-daughter event around Mother’s Day, and I always felt bad for one girl on my bus whose mother had passed away and another girl in my grade whose mother had walked out on the family. I’m sure that Mother’s Day was tough enough for them in the first place, and mother-daughter events like that could have only rubbed salt into the wound. At this point, I’m a big girl, and I can get over not having a father on Father’s Day; had my dad died when I was younger, I’m not sure if it would have been as easy.

My dislike of Father’s and Mother’s Day goes beyond feeling bad for parentless children such as myself, though. It really bothers me how the media takes these days as an opportunity to pigeonhole the sexes and idealize very specific, gendered behaviors. Men are masculinized, women are feminized, and we all end up losing out because of the stereotypes that are reinforced in people’s minds. I know very few people who could accurately be characterized by the traditional images of men and women that the media pushes around Father’s and Mother’s Day. Case in point: my mother, a carpenter’s daughter who does most of her own repairs and keeps a tool box next to her shoeboxes, could figure out how to use a power tool better than my father would have. Why didn’t I see any commercials for Home Depot gift cards around Mother’s Day? She would use it better than he ever could have.

Father’s Day advertising also becomes problematic in its portrayal of the family as a unit with two straight parents of different sexes living in the same home. Marginalizing families that are structured in different ways, these ads make single parents, same-sex parents, and all sorts of other types of families look like they don’t belong. This is 21^st century America. We all belong, no matter how far we deviate from the traditional family structure.

Is it kind of annoying to have a day celebrating fathers when you don’t have one? Yeah. Not gonna lie. Seeing images of the family I once had plastered all over television, magazines, and even the sides of buses can hurt, and I’m not going to sugarcoat that. But Father’s Day also bothers me because of the sexist overtones that advertisers capitalize on. No, I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the existence of Father’s Day, but the holiday will have to have a big makeover before I’ll start to grudgingly like it.