“My entire existence was constructed by a sociopath in a sweater vest”.
Amy Acker as Dr. Claire Saunders in Dollhouse
“Imagination, life is your creation.”
“Barbie Girl” by Aqua
When I was making the awkward and painful transition into adulthood, worsened by unidentified ADHD, two of the biggest things in pop culture were Britney Spears and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (with an honorable mention to the deliberate satire of Aqua’s “Barbie Girl”).
I didn’t like Britney. At first. When she started growing on me, I didn’t like how other singers dragged her to build their brand. It bothered me to learn her family made her the sole breadwinner as a child. It bothered me even more when she struggled under the constant media scrutiny, and it’s beyond gross that one of the people I see as responsible for her breakdown – her father – was put in charge of her life so he can continue to exploit her.
I loved Buffy. I’ve enjoyed supernatural content since I first read Bunnicula as a child, and had an interest in martial arts from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Sonya Blade (though I would not pursue it myself until well into adulthood). BtVS had a lot going for it despite the source material being bad (Rutger Hauer deserved better and Paul Reuben provided the only memorable moment of the film).
The moment I knew BtVS was something special, and not just an amusing way to spend Friday nights as a socially challenged teen, was the season finale when Sarah Michelle Gellar delivered the first of many gut-wrenching performances. Her acting choices (that mirthless laugh…) were stunning. That she never received industry recognition for a performance that opened doors to other actresses who did (Jennifer Garner in Alias comes to mind) always bugged me. She played everything from comedy to drama to horror, often within the same scene, and she made it look effortless.
I had more in common with nerdy Willow, but so many of Buffy’s storylines provided me with comfort and catharsis. In the season 2 finale, Angel literally has Buffy’s back to the wall and says “No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away, and what’s left?” It reminded me so much of my negative self-talk when I found myself in a bad spot. When Buffy tells him “Me” and turns the tables, I felt that. I’d been there. So often it was only ever me I had, but I decided I was enough.
Her college experience was relatable, right down to the crazy roommate. The weirdly polarizing “Beer Bad” will forever tickle me. I didn’t drink in college, but her fantasy sequences…well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one whose brain does that. I’m pretty confident many contributions came from the oft-overlooked women in the writing room.
Season 6 was rough, but Riley has a great line when he discovers Buffy hit her personal rock bottom: “Buffy, none of that means anything. It doesn’t touch you […] It doesn’t change what you are, and you are a hell of a woman.” Having been through some tough times and doing my best to make them even worse, I couldn’t break the cycle until I stopped beating myself up.
BtVS has always been praised for its feminist take. Most of the praise has been directed at Joss Whedon, but he didn’t work alone, and even before the revelations of the last few years, the show had its issues. Was it ahead of its time, and frequently insightful?
Of course.
Was it faultless?
No. And viewers didn’t always agree on what was and wasn’t problematic. Personally I’ve always been bothered by people glossing over Faith taking control of Buffy’s body (huge violation) and having sex with an unwitting Riley (rape). I died a little inside every time characters called Willow a Wicca (Wiccan…) and hated her heavy-handed “don’t do magic, magic’s bad…mkay” arc culminating in the fridging of Tara and a woman scorned cliché on a series otherwise known to subvert them. Angel struggled to find its tone even before Whedon’s mistreatment of Charisma Carpenter tainted season 4.
Now I see revisionist takes reframing his shows entirely through the lens of his wrongdoing, doing others a disservice. The Mary Sue implied the premise of BtVS is inherently wrong because a girl who fights the forces of evil has to take some punches herself. The writer also lumped Buffy into the category of “strong female characters” who are only strong like men, but Buffy’s greatest strength was never her supernatural gift; it was her empathy and intelligence. Writers did more than subvert the mother/whore dichotomy. Not only does the “blond bimbo” fight back, she’s not even a bimbo, but a wholly realized person.
Unlike Buffy, Firefly‘s Malcolm Reynolds is not the moral center of his show. I’m pretty sure we’re meant to be on Inara’s side when he insults her. I don’t think Dollhouse minimized rape. The Mary Sue draws a distinction between characters made into dolls against their will, and characters who signed up – not unlike politicians who think rape only counts in its most violent form (and only if the victim is sober) – but exploitation was inherent to the concept. No affluent, well-adjusted person would give up their autonomy. Characters didn’t pick one battle (preservation of identity) over another (preservation of bodily autonomy). It’s all the same battle.
While Whedon’s self-loathing and personal resentments bled into his work (not a single lasting relationship), I think the good still exists, and he’s just a raging hypocrite. After those dreadful graphic novels, I suspect his greatest talent is surrounding himself with better talent. He may have had the ideas, but he alone did not bring them to life, and I’m not going to add insult to injury by erasing everyone else’s work, especially those he victimized.
I don’t like everything that led to my existence, but I still like me – and that doesn’t negate the bad (anyone who suggests otherwise because they want to turn the suffering of others into a tidy “everything happens for a reason” narrative to feel better or avoid responsibility irks me). I still enjoy Britney’s music despite hating the circumstances around it. Same goes for BtVS.
