Beyond Selidor

So, yesterday I did something that I normally deplore in others. I reblogged a quote from a Joss Whedon speech without knowing anything about its broader context. In this case, the quote seemed okay in isolation, but it was taken from this disaster of a speech which is (and cannot be framed otherwise) the unappealing spectacle of a straight, white, cis man telling women how to do feminism. And I have to be consistent. If it were any other man, I would have already been outraged. The fact that it was Joss Whedon actually hurts.

Because look. It's been a long time since I adored his work uncritically, and I've been careful to point out the very real problems in Firefly, in Dollhouse, even in Buffy. I've confronted his treatment of Charisma Carpenter, which was deplorable, but I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if he showed evidence that he was learning.

Because after all these years, I still love Buffy. It was such a source of strength to me at the time, and when I rewatch it, it reminds me what I felt and what I've survived. Because I still think that Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Tara Maclay, Cordelia Chase, Anya Jenkins, Joyce Summers, Jenny Calendar, Faith Lehane, Zoe Washburne and Kaylee Frye are fabulous female characters. (The less said about Inara Serra and River Tam, the better.) Because I still think Whedon's original Equality Now speech, the one about 'why do you write these strong female characters?', is an insightful examination of representation and why it matters. Because the way Whedon wrote Black Widow in Avengers was a gift - she had exactly the kind of power I wanted to see explored in a story. Because the way Whedon characters use words as a weapon even when their physical strength has failed is something that has given me such happiness and strength over the years.

Because (and this might just be internalised misogyny at work) I so desperately wanted a man to say publicly, 'I understand what it is that women are fighting for, what they experience. I understand it and I will try to help.'* Whedon's words and his works were so important to me, so close to my heart, that I needed him to Get It. I needed him to be on my side. I didn't need him to be perfect, but I needed him to try to be better with every new project, and I needed him to use his power and prominence for good.**

I can't give Whedon the benefit of the doubt any longer. That speech has shown that he's not going to learn, he's not going to change and he's not going to help. His words haven't changed my opinion of his work or how strongly I feel about it and identify with his characters, but they have certainly changed my opinion of his intentions. And that actually hurts. It's like closing a door on something. Joss Whedon! I trusted you! And you messed up.

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* I should have realised that such men do exist, and in fact they exist all around me, they're just not going around shouting things publicly and being rewarded with acclaim for it. My own grandfather had a feminist epiphany after watching All About My Mother with me and my mother when he was in his 70s. As far as I'm concerned, he was living a feminist life before then, quietly, in his actions towards my grandmother, his sisters-in-law, his four daughters and their children. My partner had a similar epiphany a year or so ago when he told me, 'I get it, now. I get why you criticise media for representation, and I see what you see now. I see beyond the default.' It's a quieter kind of male feminism, but it's altogether more helpful, and I see no problem in drawing attention to it here.

** Again, since we're talking about famous men learning, changing, and using their power for good, I'd like to take the opportunity to draw your attention to John Scalzi. He is an example of someone in Whedon's position who does things right. He's not perfect, but in the years I've followed him, he's learnt and got better. When Racefail happened, he initially screwed up, but listened to friends' criticism, apologised publicly and then offered his (very widely read) blog to Mary Anne Moharanj, an author of Sri Lankan background, as a space to educate people about issues of racism and representation. He's gone on to use his clout in the sf/f community to agitate for panel equality and clear policies on harassment at conventions, and used the taunting of sexist, racist trolls as opportunities to conduct massive fundraising drives for charities supporting equality. In other words, he's taken advantage of the privilege offered by his position as a prominent white male author to amplify the voices of those without that privilege. And that, to my mind, is how it's done.