Star Trek, or Repeating History (Again)

In the far distant days of my High School experience, I associated with a diverse group of friends. In fact, our little band of misfits prided itself on including those who were excluded everywhere else: the uber-nerds, geeks, theater folk, and the extremely introverted were always welcome additions to the lunch table or extracurricular excursion. One of these friends was (and probably still is) one of those curious individuals who are fans of Star Trek, more commonly known as “trekkies.” She was unusual in many ways, not only because she was the rare female trekkie among an overwhelming male majority, but also because she was a quiet, highly intelligent young woman who just happened to know how to speak Klingon and enjoyed attending science fiction conventions in her spare time.

Original 1960s crew

So when Paramount Pictures et al announced the arrival of a new series of films based loosely on the original Star Trek television series, I immediately thought of my long-lost friend and the many geeks, nerds and/or freaks that would no doubt eagerly await the first release. I, on the other hand, had my reservations. 

Despite my youthful interest in the Next Generation series that aired up through my High School graduation (I had a thing for Patrick Stewart, if you can believe that), I had lost interest in the franchise upon reaching adulthood. So when I finally made an effort to watch the 2009 Star Trek film, it was hesitantly and on DVD. I was immediately sorry that I had not gone to the theater to see the film – it was far better than I had anticipated, and although I can’t say that I joined the ranks of zealous trekkies, I eagerly awaited the release of the next film in the series, Into Darkness, and over the summer paid my hard-earned $8.50 to see it on the big screen. It was (and still is) exceptionally entertaining.

Pale faces, then and now

So when Into Darkness was released onto DVD this month, I bought it and watched the film again. And again. And then I noticed something that shocked me right down to my toes. Star Trek has always had more than its fair share of powerful white men. There was Kirk and his crew back in the 60s (even the aliens are white, quite an amazing accomplishment); then came Picard in The Next Generation, and (since I am unfamiliar with the other Star Trek spin-off series, I’m skipping ahead), we have come full circle back to Kirk in the 2009 and 2013 films. And the films, like the original television series, is entirely organized around powerful white men who either use or abuse that power as they see fit. This is the case, despite the diverse cast of supporting characters and the fact that the story is supposed to take place in a far-distant universe where inter-galactic travel has promoted a diversity that we cannot currently comprehend.

The 2009 Star Trek features Kirk Sr., Pike, and James T. Kirk, rising to positions of power as they face off against the bad guys and, in the end, save Earth from obliteration. In the 2013 film, Kirk and Pike return, and are joined by Marcus and Kahn, both of whom are far more powerful bad guys than the opponents defeated in the first film. Both are white. Spock (both older and younger), the always-ready second-in-command, is also white, despite the eyebrows and pointy ears. None of these characters are killed off or lost (excluding Pike, who dies early in the second film and thus provides the emotional exegesis for Kirk’s quest for revenge); the diverse crew members, on the other hand, drop like flies with the explosion of every photon missile. Even Kahn, the baddest (white) bad guy around, doesn’t die. He is returned to his cryo-tube to await justice in some distant future.

Kahn

Stinging from the slap of this realization, I brooded. I have long complained about the mini-skirt and gogo-boot wearing female members of the original Star Trek crew, as well as the token Asian and black men and women on that show. And now, nearly fifty years later, what has changed? Unfortunately, not much. The skirts in the new Star Trek films are just as short; the men in power just as white. And don’t even get me started on the lingerie-flashing Dr. Marcus (blonde, white, skinny).  These films, my friends, are touted for their “success.” This only goes to show that this brand of success is measured in dollar signs, rather than measurable advances in socio-political equality.

Shake It For Me, Girl

For reasons I cannot explain, I woke up this morning with country singer Luke Bryan's song "Country Girl (Shake It For Me)" stuck in my head. I cannot explain this, because it just happens to be one of my LEAST favorite songs. Ever.

Now, in general I consider myself to be a country music fan. But this relationship to country music isn't without its problems. In fact, much of what is played on my local country radio stations centers on objectifying (usually blond) women and drinking beer, two things I don't endorse or condone. Bryan's song is an obvious case in point - the lyrics invite his "country girl" to willingly objectify herself as she performs for the titillation of male fantasy:

Shake it for the young bucks sitting in the honky-tonks
For the rednecks rocking 'til the break of dawn
For the DJ spinning that country song
Come on, come on, come on

Shake it for the birds, shake it for the bees
Shake it for the catfish swimming down deep in the creek
For the crickets and the critters and the squirrels
Shake it to the moon, shake it for me girl

Aw, country girl, shake it for me
Girl, shake it for me, girl, shake it for me
Country girl, shake it for me
Girl, shake it for me, girl, shake it for me

However appealing and, in the most generous interpretation possible, ambiguous "shaking it" for "the critters" might be (I haven't tried it - why would I? - so I'm not sure what is to be gained there), the music video that accompanies these bizarre requests makes Bryan's meaning crystal clear. Really, between the boob and booty shots, bare midriffs and, of course, the "shaking it" by a group of young, too-thin and otherwise sexually objectified women, what else is there? This song has no other purpose than to encourage the belief that such behavior is "sexy" and desirable, and will make any woman willing enough able to attract the attention of her pick of equally attractive men. The prevalence, shallowness and pernicious superficiality of this message is painful, particularly in light of the centuries of feminist activism battling against this very kind of media representation. That it exists at all, in this day and age, irritates like a pebble in my shoe, one that returns no matter how many times I stop and try to shake it out (pun intended).

Thus, I can only conclude that my present torture, condemned to hear the teeth-grindingly stupid lyrics run endlessly through my brain, is the result of a subconscious desire to punish myself for some unrecognized offense. I hope I figure it out soon, because no better torture has ever been designed or inflicted!

Gaga Feminism?

In 2012, author J. Jack Halberstam released a book titled Gaga Feminism: Sex, Gender, and the End of Normal. In it, the author forwards a new theory of feminism, a “gaga feminism,” one that is “a form of political expression that masquerades as naïve nonsense but that actually participates in big and meaningful forms of critique… a scavenger feminism that borrows promiscuously, steals from everywhere, and inhabits the ground of stereotype and cliché all at the same time.” This definition seems an apt demonstration of what scholar Carisa R. Showden calls “girl-power” or “Girlie,” or even “postfeminist” feminism, a feminism that focuses on individualism, on consumerism, and a push to “reclaim traditional models of heterosexual power relations as pleasurable rather than demeaning and to embrace standard tropes of feminine sexuality” ("What's Political about the New Feminisms?" Frontiers, 2009).

In this sense, Halberstam’s use of Lady Gaga and her theatrical celebrity is entirely appropriate: she is nothing if not the ringleader of embracing standard tropes of (fantastical) feminine sexuality. However, as Showden (and others) have pointed out, there are just a few problems with branding Lady Gaga and her minions as feminist activists.

First and foremost, definition of terms. According to Lady Gaga, she is not a feminist; she’s a feminist. How is that possible? Defining what a feminist is. In 2009, Lady Gaga gave an interview in which she was asked, “Are you a feminist?” (See Lady Gaga on Double Standards & Feminism). Her reaction was instant and powerful: “No! I’m not a feminist!”

Years later, in 2011, she responds to questions about feminism again, only this time, she has prepared a lovely little speech in which she details all of the reasons why she is a feminist (See Lady Gaga on Feminism). Under a postfeminist framework, the pop artist’s dubious explanation is precisely what “new” feminism is, what it does, and the standard by which feminists and non-feminists are differentiated: it is, in part, women jumping on the objectification bandwagon, where “women as well as men participate in female objectification—making sex objects of other women and of themselves, ‘ironically’ adopting the male gaze as their own” (Showden). At the same time, it is paradoxically “a rejection of all of those things” (Gaga) taught to children to ensure societal conformity, things like standards of dress and behavior, for example.

Which brings us to a second problem: confusion. Showden characterizes this problem as a tendency for Girlie feminism to “confuse a determined reclamation of femininity with a feminist statement on agency,” in which freedom and empowerment are “illusory given the individual’s inability to control the reading of her actions.” Thus adopting an attitude of “I can do whatever I want because I want to do it” is mistaken for activism; materialism and consumerism mistaken for empowerment. “In fields of social inequality,” cautions Showden, “the adorned body…has a material significance.” For this reason, only denial and ignorance (Gaga, anyone?) make Girlie feminism and all its trappings unproblematic, a terminal issue that leaves us precisely nowhere.

Ignoring problems and still-existing inequalities, oppressive systems and demeaning objectification is not the same as eradicating it, no matter how loudly one sings, dresses or rebels. Adopting a degrading male gaze and uncritically objectifying oneself is pointless, without a political agenda to forward or a specific inequity to critique. The nonsensical “girl-power” logics of today’s pop feminists mask and delegitimize the real work taking place beneath the neon glare, the activists and advocates, both feminists and beyond, who work in the hopes of effecting actual socio-political change instead of merely slapping a glitzy wig on it and calling it a fancy name.