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“BIG DAMN HEROES”: ZOË WASHBURNE AND THE EVOLUTION OF THE WARRIOR WOMAN IN

A Thesis

Submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements

For the Degree of

Master of Arts

in

Media Studies

University of Regina

By

Peter William Halverson Kosanovich

Regina, Saskatchewan

October, 2019

Copyright 2019: Peter W. H. Kosanovich

UNIVERSITY OF REGINA

FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES AND RESEARCH

SUPERVISORY AND EXAMINING COMMITTEE

Peter William Halverson Kosanovich, candidate for the degree of Master of Arts in Media Studies, has presented a thesis titled, “Big Damn Heroes”: Zoe Washburn and the Evolution of the Warrior Women in Firefly , in an oral examination held on ????. The following committee members have found the thesis acceptable in form and content, and that the candidate demonstrated satisfactory knowledge of the subject material.

External Examiner: Dr. Jes Battis, Department of English

Supervisor: Dr. Sheila Petty, Department of Film

Committee Member: Dr. Christine Ramsay, Department of Film

Committee Member: Dr. Philippe Mather, Department of Film

Chair of Defense: Dr. Philip Charrier, Department of History

Abstract

This thesis explores the evolution of television in the alongside the disruption of the third wave of feminism as a result of the turn to patriotism and nationalism following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. Specifically, I look at the subgenre of space opera, examining how presentations of women characters have changed throughout the subgenre’s history. Where women once occupied juvenile roles such as a damsel in distress, as is the case in Captain Video and His Video Rangers

(1949-1955) and Tom Corbet, Space Cadet (1950-1955), they now embody more complex and multifaceted characters.

I specifically examine the series Firefly (2002-2003), which emerged in the television landscape following the 9/11 terrorist attacks. I focus on the character of Zoë

Washburne, a war veteran and smuggler, who represents an evolution of the now-clichéd warrior woman trope in narrative media. Prior to Zoë, television in the 1990s experienced a surge in warrior women, highlighted by characters such as from Xena: Warrior

Princess (1995-2001) and Buffy Summers from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003).

These characters strongly reflect values of the third wave of feminism, such as individuality and personal liberation. In discussing these heroines, I heavily draw upon

Dawn Heinecken’s book The Warrior Women of Television: A Feminist Cultural

Analysis of the New Female Body in Popular Media, where she attempts to create a conversation among herself and other scholars to define and interpret characteristics of warrior women on television.

Using Heinecken’s conversation as a blueprint for the warrior woman, I then explore Prudence Chamberlain’s interpretations of fourth wave feminism in her book,

i

The Feminist Fourth Wave. The combination of the warrior woman definition and new interpretations of feminism facilitate the analysis of Zoë as a new type of warrior woman, which I describe as the Volunteer Woman.

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Acknowledgements

I wish to express my deepest gratitude to my thesis supervisor, Dr. Sheila Petty.

Her insight and supervision were invaluable in this process, as were the opportunities and support she provided throughout. Because of her, I was able to teach and instruct, as well as give my first conference presentation. These are experiences I am forever grateful for.

I cannot thank Dr. Petty enough for her support and making sure my research never became too unwieldy. I also wish to thank my committee members, Dr. Christine Ramsay and Dr. Philippe Mather, who gave invaluable counsel at the University of Regina.

Of the many acknowledgements, first and foremost I wish to thank Prof. Kevin

Reynolds and Prof. Scott Rikkers from James Madison University, as well as Megan

Crockett, formerly of Bang Zoom! Entertainment, who wrote my letters of recommendation for this Master’s program. Thanks to Kelsi Murrow, José Wellington

Sousa, Tomi Oyegoke, and Chloé Golden, whose friendship and support made this process incredibly rewarding and manageable. At the University of Regina, I also need to thank Director of Bands, Brent Ghiglione. As the first person I met in Regina, Prof.

Ghiglione continued to be a pillar of support throughout my program. Additionally, I must acknowledge and thank Dr. Randal Rogers for the opportunity to work as his

Graduate Research Assistant on the project Wilderness of Mirrors: Spies and Queer

Subjects in Visual Culture, funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research

Council of Canada. Finally, I would like to acknowledge other financial support I received throughout this degree: the Saskatchewan Innovation and Excellence Graduate

Scholarship (2017 and 2018), Graduate Teaching Assistantships, and UR Graduate

Scholarships through the Department of Film.

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Dedication

I dedicate this research to a few people. First, my parents, Lynn and Bill. Despite growing up in a household with strict rules for the amount of television and movies consumed, I am somehow completing my second degree in the field. While it took a long time for them to understand my fascination with film, they continued to support me no matter what. Second, my siblings, Katie and Max, who provide me with unlimited entertainment and support. And finally, two individuals who did more to support me than anyone could have asked: Sasha Duran, who actively helped me find work after undergrad and championed every decision I have made as I pursue my goals; and Steve

Rice, who allowed me a environment to grow and mature regardless of mistakes, and who has provided this kind of support for the better part of 15 years.

Thank you!

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Table of Contents

Abstract ...... i

Acknowledgements ...... iii

Dedication ...... iv

Table of Contents ...... v

Introduction ...... 1

CHAPTER ONE: “We live in a spaceship, dear”: American Science Fiction Television ...... 22 1.1 The Science Fiction Television Revolution ...... 22 1.2 Space Opera Post-9/11 ...... 29

CHAPTER TWO: “Big damn ”: Warrior Women of the Third Wave ...... 35 2.1 Individuality, Warrior Women, and the Body ...... 36 2.2 “I can hurt you.”...... 43

CHAPTER THREE: “When you can’t run, you crawl. And when you can’t crawl - when you can’t do that …. You find someone to carry you”: Zoë in the Fourth Wave ...... 52 3.1 The Fourth Wave ...... 52 3.2 “In a time of war, we would’ve never left a man stranded.” ...... 60

CHAPTER FOUR: “She’s tore up plenty, but she’ll fly true”: Conclusion ...... 77 4.1 Someone to Carry You...... 77 4.2 “Shiny! Let’s be bad guys.” ...... 81 4.3 “Okay, I’m in.” ...... 86

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 89

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Introduction

After the Earth was used up, we found a new solar system and hundreds of new Earths were terraformed and colonized. The central planets formed the and decided all the planets had to join under their rule. There was some disagreement on that point. After the war, many of the Independents who had fought and drifted to the edges of the system, far from Alliance control. Out here, people struggled to get by with the most basic technologies; a ship would bring you work, a gun would help you keep it. A captain’s goal was simple: find a crew, find a job, keep flying. Shepherd Derrial Book (Firefly prologue) Science fiction inspires the imagination, taking its audiences to new times and places they could barely comprehend moments before. It appears in many forms, from an immortal who traverses time and space in a blue police box, to a blonde cheerleader who protects the Earth from vampires, to space cowboys struggling to get by in their little corner of the ‘verse’.1 The genre of science fiction is as boundless as the imagination itself. However, as noted by Edward James, science fiction was often dismissed “as escapism” (Telotte 1). For much of its history the genre was not considered seriously when compared to other genres or narrative media, frequently being “perceived as children’s programming or niche fare” (1). But science fiction is much more than adolescent escapism. It is a genre that often provides critical commentary on contemporary issues such as race, technology, governance, warfare, capitalism, and gender. In addition, beyond solely providing commentary, science fiction can often have an almost prophetic nature, imagining the potential progression or direction of contemporary societies by taking place in a futuristic “other”. While these prophetic imaginings are more frequently technological in nature, providing blueprints or designs

1 Colloquialism for universe (Firefly).

1 for scientists to strive to create, they also can function as benchmarks or trajectories for sociological developments such as gender equality.

This thesis will focus on the portrayal of women characters in the science fiction subgenre of “space opera” as depicted on American television and, more specifically, how gender roles have changed or been reimagined in the series’ futuristic societies. To do so, it will examine the character Zoë Washburne in the series, Firefly (2002-2003), and argue that her depiction incorporated many of the values and concerns of the third wave of feminism that emerged in the 1990s and also reflected newer ideas and concerns that have become associated with ongoing fourth wave feminism. While Firefly may appear to be a standard space opera on the surface, it is actually highly innovative in the way it depicts and addresses more contemporary feminist issues such as intersectionality, vilifying sexual assault while also normalizing sexual intercourse as an ordinary aspect of society, and providing a voice to the marginalized. And although Zoë Washburne appears to be a now-clichéd “bad ass” warrior woman, she is highly subversive of many conventions that defined earlier warrior women on television and reflects a significant evolution of the trope in the 21st century. This series has been selected because it aired during a disruption of the third wave of feminism caused by the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the United States, and the consequent cultural turn to an obsession with patriotism and nationalism, at the expense of rights movements, elaborated below.

The disruption of the third wave, paired with series’ creator ’s proclivity to subvert established tropes and clichés, complicate readings of Firefly in the context of feminist waves. Although the terrorist attacks disrupted the momentum of the third wave, feminism itself continued to evolve and change outside of a strict wave narrative, simply

2 more subtly than during the more outspoken period designated as the wave. The series appears to reflect this continued evolution, having moved beyond the third wave in terms of ideology, while also addressing concerns that have become identifiable to the fourth feminist wave.

The significance of space opera as opposed to other forms of televised science fiction is, in part, because of the restrictions of the spaceship itself. It is easy to look at science fiction television and see programs featuring powerful female characters who are often described as feminist icons. Some of the most recognizable include

(1975-1979), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-

2003), Cleopatra 2525 (2000-2001), Dark Angel (2000-2002), and (2010-

2016). Each of these series focuses on a central protagonist on some grander quest to save the world, with the narrative almost exclusively following that individual’s journey.

Space operas, however, generally feature a larger ensemble of characters for the practical purposes of efficiently operating the spaceship itself. They live on the ship, as well as work there. It is as much a personal space as a professional one. While these programs also feature a central protagonist to lead or push the narrative in a specific direction, maintaining a clear goal for the series, they spend time to develop many other characters by devoting full episodes or character arcs to them. They are truly ensemble-based programs with each character getting comparable screen time and not relying wholly on the central protagonist.

The term space opera was first coined in 1941 by Wilson Tucker, whose definition offers a foundation for the subgenre: “In these hectic days of phrase-coining, we offer one. Westerns are called ‘horse operas’, the morning housewife tear-jerkers are

3 called ‘soap operas’. For the hacky, grinding, stinking, outworn space-ship yarn, or world-saving for that matter, we offer ‘space opera’” (Westfahl 197). In his essay, “Space opera,” Gary Westfahl argues that “Space opera is the most common…form of science fiction. Its popularity in magazines of the 1920s and 1930s helped establish science fiction as a genre…. To many, space opera is synonymous with [science fiction]” (197).

As the most recognizable form of science fiction, space opera was paramount to the success of the genre in the 20th century, and is the easiest form to categorize and identify.

(197). Westfahl identifies three components of Tucker’s definition for space opera. First, space operas include a “space-ship” which is used to explore and traverse the unknown reaches of outer space (197). Second, they are “yarns,” or adventure stories featuring human and alien spacefarers on exciting journeys, usually involving violent conflicts

(197-198). And third, space opera tends to be repetitive and formulaic, often resulting in mediocrity (198). Westfahl further suggests that when a space opera is well-received it immediately generates countless sequels or imitations that do little to differentiate themselves. To prevent formulaic repetition, the subgenre of space opera must continuously reinvent itself, allowing new forms to overtake old ones. While this criticism can be argued of all genres, space opera still suffers its superficial reputation as adolescent escapism. But this reputation also makes my claim of Firefly’s innovative qualities that much more relevant.

In The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction, Mark Bould refers to Brian

Stableford’s interpretation that the evolution of science fiction as a popular genre has three distinct stages: “between 1930 and 1960 it emerged and developed in the pulp magazines; from 1960 to 1990, it was located in book publishings; since 1990, the

4 primary site of popular [science fiction] has been TV (a category under which he subsumes film)” (Bould, Film and television 87-88). While this is by no means a definitive set of time frames, it does provide a working model of science fiction’s popularity as a genre and its principal media of consumption in the United States.

Certainly, there are outliers. For example, George Lucas’ hugely successful Star Wars film trilogy was created during the era Stableford identifies when books were the primary media of science fiction consumption. Moving forward, this thesis will focus on the third stage (since 1990), but adjusting Stableford’s date range to begin in 1987, the year when

Star Trek: The Next Generation (TNG) (1987-1994) premiered. This also follows the completion of George Lucas’ original Star Wars trilogy, which contributed greatly to popularizing space opera with mainstream audiences.

It was around this time, the 1980s and early 1990s, that Lincoln Geraghty observes a surge of science fiction programming on American television. While science fiction and space opera had been popular to varying degrees in other parts of the world, notably the long-running series (1963-1989, 1996, 2005-present) in Britain, economic changes in the United States facilitated the surge noted by Geraghty. American television in the 1980s benefitted from broadcast media deregulation under President

Ronald Reagan that resulted in the emergence of new television networks. Many of these new networks aimed to compete by providing programs of genres different from those of the Big Three: ABC, NBC, and CBS. Geraghty notes competition from new networks meant existing “networks had to invest in new technologies and new television formats to counter cable and satellite channels that could afford to cater to niche audiences,” a strategy that resulted in more niche genre programs across all networks, mainstream or

5 otherwise (Geraghty 145). Included in this influx of niche genre programs was a surge in space operas, as networks attempted to replicate the success of TNG.

The emergence of new networks and the airing of space operas coincided with the emergence of themes, concerns, and priorities within feminist thought in the mid-1990s in the United States that have been called third wave feminism. In her article, “Feminism:

A Fourth Wave?”, Ealasaid Munro suggests one major tenet of third wave feminism was empowerment of the individual, or what she describes as a “focus on individual emancipation” (Munro). The third wave emphasized personal liberation, attempting to embrace the uniqueness of each individual person. However, in emphasizing defining features of individual uniqueness, third wave feminists lost sight of concerns that groups and communities of women had in common. They prioritized how events affected them personally, as opposed to the impact on women as a larger demographic.

The third wave’s attention to the individual and individual concerns ushered in new depictions of women on television that were different from those in the prior second wave, which had focused on obtaining legal rights to ensure equality for women at home and in the workplace (Walters 97, 102).2 The second wave was concerned with broad, systemic inequalities that women perceived or rights they felt they deserved. These rights and liberties included freedom from family and workplace sexism, and issues of reproductive freedom and domestic violence. Munro summarizes these concerns with the second wave phrase, “the personal is political,” which drew attention to “the impact of sexism and patriarchy on every aspect of women’s private lives” (Munro). Ideologies

2 The exclusion of the first wave of feminism is largely due to the era in which it occurred. While the first wave is certainly significant for feminism as a movement, as it emphasized issues regarding citizenship (right to vote), the wave occurred from the late 1800s to the 1920s and largely predated the wide-spread proliferation of television.

6 associated with the second wave can been observed in television programs from the

1960s, 1970s, and 1980s in which women were leaving the home and entering the workforce, where they would combat workplace sexism. They depicted women also confronting sexism and misogyny at home with their families, asserting equal rights to their husbands. These ideologies can be observed in programs like That Girl (1966-

1971), The Mary Tyler Moore Show (1970-1977), Laverne & Shirley (1976-1983), and

Murphy Brown (1988-1998, 2018-2019), each of which depicted a working woman striving to be considered seriously in her profession.

Beginning in the 1990s, hour-long dramas and teen melodramas began to focus more on the characters’ personal liberation and less on their impact or influence on society.3 These programs explored the individuals’ personal lives inside and outside the workplace, and how they achieved self-gratification and personal liberation. This shift accompanied the rise of postmodern culture, and the “Me Generation” of Baby Boomers, overtaking previous generations for predominant influence over many forms of media.

Diego Capilla writes, “Postmodern culture praises individualism – a value that remains and characterizes the Me Generation – in all aspects of social life…. From a moral perspective, the media play a determinant role in the creation and preservation of certain postmodern values, especially the exaltation of the individual and all the values deriving from it” (Capilla 167-168). The Me Generation’s accession over the media allowed for the preservation and bequeathal of postmodern values to younger generations through a variety of means, including television. This shift is marked by programs such as

3 Specificity to hour-long dramas and teen melodramas is because many sitcoms continued pre-existing themes that were common to programs of the second wave, simply transitioned to blue-collar households instead of white-collar ones. Such series include Roseanne (1988-1998, 2018) and Home Improvement (1991-1999).

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(1997-2002), Ally McBeal (1997-2002), Dawson’s Creek (1998-2003), and Felicity

(1998-2002).

Leslie Heywood and Jennifer Drake observe that “Third wave feminists often take cultural production and sexual politics as key sites of struggle, seeking to use desire and pleasure as well as anger to fuel struggles for justice” (Heywood and Drake 4). This interpretation offers a reason why many programs of the time were teen melodramas.

These programs depicted sexual exploration that is such a prominent theme in teen culture, providing an abundance of relatable narratives to that age demographic. As in the teen melodramas, many science fiction genre programs reflected changing social values that focused on individualism, as well as the pleasure, anger, and justice struggles noted by Heywood and Drake. The super heroics of the protagonists generally differentiated and separated them from the rest of society, allowing the narratives to focus on an individual hero and her specific, often violent, quest. Programs that followed this trend include Æon Flux (1991-1995), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001), Buffy the Vampire

Slayer (1997-2003), and La Femme Nikita (1997-2001). These programs focused on a hero, her personal victories, and her development as an individual more than how she influenced or fit into the molds of society. These programs also employed the increasingly popular trend of the warrior women trope.

While the concerns of the women characters in many types of programs shifted towards the third wave feminist values of self-realization, personal liberation and individualism through the 1990s, space operas can be read as a hybridization of elements of the second and third waves. In life on a spaceship, the professional world and the personal world are nearly inseparable. The constraints imposed by the spaceship merge

8 the two worlds so that these programs are not just about the characters at work, but also about how they live their lives and hold relationships. Many space operas from 1987 onward followed TNG as a blueprint for success. They retained the workplace environment and relationships, the professional setting and the egalitarian values that were concerns of the second wave of feminism. The format popularized in TNG emphasized the day-to-day interpersonal and romantic relationships of the crew and passengers aboard the ships, as well as the professional mandates and requirements to successfully conduct intergalactic diplomacy. These programs imagined futures in which binary understandings of gender and sex were largely observed to be equal, or without the same disparities that are observable in contemporary real-world affairs; otherwise, they were set against a military backdrop that emphasized the imperative of rank, chain of command, and protocol over gender and sex. Such series include TNG, Babylon 5

(1994-1998), SG-1 (1997-2007), and the reboot of (2003,

2004-2009).

The hybridization of elements from the second and third waves of feminism represented in space operas during the 1990s is akin to developments being observed of the ongoing fourth wave of feminism. While the second wave primarily focused on political and legal gains for women professionally, and the third wave emphasized personal liberation and individualism, the fourth wave, though still malleable, ideologically exists somewhere between the prior two waves. Activists involved in the fourth wave appreciate the benefits of a collective unit fighting for legal gains, which were a primary concern of the second wave, while also recognizing individual experiences that differentiate unique persons, an ideology of the third wave. The fourth

9 wave seems to be picking and choosing among components of both previous waves and building upon them. But while a rough ideological framework is coalescing around the fourth wave, academia has been reluctant to put forth a concise definition of it. In The

Feminist Fourth Wave, Prudence Chamberlain observes the difficulty in defining the fourth wave: “The hesitation … to clearly outline the nature of the fourth wave seems to speak to an academic reluctance to hinder any natural growth or development. Rather than attempting an interpellation, in which the extensive naming of the fourth wave fixes its nature in place, the uncertainty of this feminist moment allows for the activism to develop more organically” (Chamberlain 5).

Despite avoiding a concise definition for the fourth wave, Chamberlain refers to

Kira Cochrane’s identification of four areas central to fourth wave feminism: “rape culture, online feminism, humour, and intersectionality and inclusion” (Chamberlain 2).

Chamberlain also points to Ealasaid Munro’s observation that the fourth wave “is especially concerned with giving voice to those who occupy the margins of the movement,” providing everyone the opportunity to be heard, regardless of privilege

(Chamberlain 4). While Chamberlain posits a reluctance for academics to define the fourth wave so that it may develop and evolve naturally, perhaps another reason it is difficult to define is because the wave appears to be dispersing in every direction, fighting a war on all fronts. The wave itself has not coalesced around one single, easily discernable idea; rather, it addresses a multitude of concerns. Munro recognizes this, writing “Contemporary feminism is characterised by its diversity of purpose” (Munro

2013).

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While Chamberlain acknowledges and accepts these components of the fourth wave, her work primarily addresses the impulse to define feminism within a wave narrative. She finds the wave narrative problematic and chooses to examine moments in time, the impact of temporality and affect on feminist waves. She perceives that feminism is an ever-present and ongoing evolution of ideologies, and the formal “temporalities” of waves, the designation of first, second, and third, coincide “with specific events, the historical moment and self-determination” (24). Chamberlain uses the concept of the

“moment” throughout her work to help describe waves, asserting there is always a time- specific influence that serves as the emotional core to the birth of a specific wave. The wave itself simply “speaks to periods of affective intensity,” in which people are existentially and emotionally motivated to act (6). Chamberlain writes, “The wave is a moment in which discourse, effect, context, and affect all converge, creating an adaptable and evolving energized period of concerted activism” (8). She elaborates that “affect is determined by people, by outside influences, wider social contexts, developing technology, and then individual events that stimulate mass, feeling response. It is affect’s very contingency that makes it especially appropriate to the waves of feminism, matching the continually changing surge of intensity, and then disappearing when the strength can no longer be sustained” (10).

It is not always as simple as a movement fading in strength. Sometimes influences occur outside the constraints of feminism that consequentially disrupt the wave’s momentum. One such influence was the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the

United States. Occurring during the third wave of feminism, the purpose of the 9/11 terrorist attacks was certainly not to disrupt the theoretical construct of a feminist wave.

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But the impact of the attacks interrupted the wave’s visible momentum, supplanting it with a heightened sense of patriotism and nationalism.4 Americans became less focused on how they could achieve some form of personal liberation, and instead were emotionally motivated to defend the principles and freedoms espoused by the United

States: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, which in turn has incited rising racism,

Islamophobia and white supremacy in the last two decades.

This shift was reflected on television, as programs such as Xena, Buffy, Ally

McBeal, and Felicity that had explored themes of individualism and personal liberation were all cancelled not long after 9/11. It was not that audiences no longer liked programs of this nature, but rather these series did not reflect or fulfill the desires and needs of the

American audience in the changing political landscape. They were frequently replaced by male-led police procedurals that conveyed narratives about defending the United States from mysterious terrorist organizations abroad; they showcased narratives with unhinged or savant detectives who employed questionable means of apprehending criminals, insisting security is paramount, sometimes at the expense of the law. These programs conveyed a heightened sense of patriotism, and generally included an explicit and identifiable “bad guy” who was often apprehended by the end of each episode. Programs that reflected this change include 24 (2001-2014), The Shield (2002-2008), The Wire

(2002-2008), CSI: Miami (2002-2012), and NCIS (2003-present). While these series still featured ensemble casts with prominent female characters, their expressions of

4 I make these statements as an American who grew up following 9/11 in the Washington, D. C. Metro area. I remember 9/11 happening and its impact on our immediate area. The statements made in this paragraph are based on personal observations.

12 individuality were overshadowed by the more masculinist, patriotic, “defend America” narratives.

As one likely impact may have been the disruption of the third wave of feminism, the 9/11 terrorist attacks also interrupted the resurgence of televised space operas from the 1990s. Following the attacks, American science fiction underwent a period of change that moved away from camp and over-exaggeration in favor of more “serious” and

“grounded” narratives. Space opera, with its over-the-top, fantastical intergalactic narratives, faded from popularity, and the few that remained departed from the TNG model.

One of the most notable space operas to emerge at this time was the short-lived series, Firefly (2002-2003). Created by Joss Whedon, architect of Buffy the Vampire

Slayer and Angel (1999-2004), the series was cancelled after only eleven out of fourteen completed episodes aired.5 Firefly blended elements from traditional Hollywood

Westerns and American space operas. Set in the year 2517, Firefly featured outlaws, thieves, horses, cattle, heists, themes of man versus nature, escaping civilization, and morality, but infused them into the setting of a space opera. Rhonda Wilcox and Tanya

Cochran point out that, like many Hollywood Westerns, “Firefly follows the Western historical pattern in that it is set after the time of a civil war” (Wilcox and Cochran 5).

The series begins with a flashback to one of the final battles of the war, six years prior to the remainder of the episode. It was the Battle of Valley, a name that carries significance throughout the series and film spinoff. The pilot episode is titled “Serenity,”

5 Firefly aired on Fox in the fall of 2002. Its episodes were aired out of order, and the night of the week it aired on consistently changed, sometimes with multiple weeks between episodes, to accommodate the World Series Playoffs for Major League Baseball. The intended pilot episode, “Serenity,” was the final episode to .

13 the follow-up feature film is Serenity (2005), and the ship where the crew lives is also named Serenity.

“Serenity” begins by drawing the audience into the middle of the battle. The two sides of the civil war, the Alliance and the Independents, draw close parallels to the US

Civil War in the 19th century. Like the North, or Union in the US Civil War, the Alliance fought for a unified government between planets, ultimately winning the war. The

Independents, also referred to as Browncoats,6 fought against the centralized government, which they felt did nothing but meddle unnecessarily in the affairs of those on the outer planets. The Independents correspond to the South, or Confederacy in the US Civil War,

“But Whedon tries to cut off sharply any connection to slavery in this parallel” (Wilcox and Cochran 6).

The distinction between the Alliance and the Independents is represented visually throughout the series. Alliance worlds are from the core, or centralized planets. They are expansive, metropolitan cities that practically cover entire planets. Sleek, futuristic buildings and skyscrapers fill the skylines of such planets, emphasizing the technological advancement and ingenuity of the year 2517. Flying vehicles and shuttles occupy the airways, similar to the flying cars shown in Blade Runner (1982) and The Jetsons (1962-

1963, 1985-1987).

In contrast to the Alliance, planets that fought for the Independents are referred to as border worlds, or border planets. They are visually reminiscent of the Western frontier,

“presented as dusty towns in deserts, with horses and cows, Old West-style” (Wilcox and

Cochran 5). Many of these planets appear desolate and barren compared to those in the

6 Browncoats also refers to the name of the fandom for Firefly and Serenity.

14 core, emphasizing the financial and class disparity between the two. For most people on these planets the primary mode of transportation is horse or stagecoach, occasionally a high-speed train. Only the very wealthy have nicer vehicles, like the hovercraft owned by rancher Ranse Burgess in the episode “.”

Like most space operas after TNG, Firefly features a larger ensemble of characters that make up the nine-member crew of Serenity. Malcolm “Mal” Reynolds is the captain of Serenity, purchasing the ship after the War for Independence. Following the war, Mal determined owning and commanding a ship was the best way to maintain his freedom and autonomy from the Alliance. Mal’s stance is alluded to in the title song, “The Ballad of Serenity,” whose refrain, “You can’t take the sky from me,” captures Mal’s defiance of the Alliance. As long as he has the sky (outer space), he is still free and can find the peace and calm of serenity. Zoë Washburne has been with Mal since the war; at that time, she served as Corporal under then Sergeant . Since the war, Zoë has acted as first mate aboard Serenity. Whereas Mal is cynical and brazen, Zoë is a stoic and commanding presence ensuring his orders are obeyed by the crew. Despite Mal’s defiant temperament, Wilcox and Cochran note that “both [Mal and Zoë] are intelligent, strong, and loyal” (4). Mal and Zoë are the first characters introduced in the series, active participants in the Battle of Serenity Valley, and it is through Mal that much of the narrative flows.

While the narrative is primarily from Mal’s perspective, Zoë’s shared history and strong rapport with the captain make her a continuous influence on many decisions made relating to missions, jobs, and any other adventure the crew might experience. The narrative of the episode “” is mostly told through flashbacks showing how

15 each member of the crew came to reside aboard Serenity. It shows that Zoë was present with Mal when purchasing the ship, making it almost as much hers as his. Because of this, and her position as second in command, Zoë is put in charge of the ship and crew anytime Mal is away. In the episode “,” after Mal and Wash (Zoë’s husband and Serenity’s pilot) are captured, Zoë assumes command and must determine how to best rescue them both. A similar storyline is explored in the 2018 novel Big Damn Hero,7 in which Mal is kidnapped and Zoë must find a way to rescue him and complete the job the crew has undertaken.8 She is never far from the action, despite never having an episode devoted to herself.

The futuristic setting and large ensemble of Firefly allowed creator Joss Whedon to experiment differently than in his previous programs. But the series itself was also targeted at a different audience, and intentionally addressed different issues. For example,

Buffy was constructed for teenagers who would relate to the high school setting and characters; every decision, no matter how minute or trivial, is paramount and could bring about the end of the world in the eyes of a teenager. Firefly, in contrast, was about adults trying to survive and make ends meet. It is almost a slice of life story, allowing slower moments of the narrative to largely overshadow the plot. And while the obstacles presented were certainly important, they were hardly world-ending. As a result, analyzing the series from the individualization perspective of the third wave of feminism is not sufficient for the richest appreciation.

7 The title of the novel is a reference to a line of dialogue from the episode “Safe,” in which Zoë refers to herself and Mal as “big damn heroes.” 8 Despite Big Damn Hero releasing 16 years after the television series itself, Joss Whedon served as a consulting editor for the novel, which is an original story by James Lovegrove and Nancy Holder.

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Whedon is also an outspoken feminist, and the eponymous heroine Buffy

Summers is frequently pointed to as a feminist icon on television. Buffy was constructed as a subversion of the “final girl” trope from slasher horror films. The characterization of

Buffy as a subversion was Whedon’s way of pushing back against the existing male- dominated status quo of Hollywood television. While the series did not break the status quo, it certainly made a lasting impression on the television landscape. Whedon continued to do the same with the women of Firefly, subverting existing clichés from both Westerns and space operas. For example, the character Inara Serra, a high society courtesan, is meant to subvert the Madonna-whore paradigm by frequently being recognized as the most socially respected member of the crew. Firefly was Whedon’s attempt to continue to push back against the conventions of Hollywood, though less overtly than he did with Buffy.

Because, as I have argued, the third wave of feminism was disrupted by the 9/11 terrorist attacks, it is difficult to fully analyze Firefly from third wave perspectives. Were the wave to have progressed unimpeded, it would likely have continued to evolve and mature in new ways, much like the current state of the fourth wave. As a result, Firefly may have turned out differently. But that relies too much on “what if” scenarios. As it stands, the wave was interrupted, which complicates readings of Firefly in the context of feminist waves. At the same time, it is hard to ignore Chamberlain’s critique of the strictures of the wave narrative entirely, and how ideas and concerns may become recurring motifs identifiable across waves. The complication prompts the questions: from or in the context of which wave should Firefly and its characters be read? Or, can it be limited to only one wave?

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As previously discussed, space operas made in the image of TNG display many characteristics common to the second wave’s emphasis on professional egalitarianism.

Firefly, as one of these series, follows this trend. In her essay, “The Threat of the ‘Good

Wife,” Laura L. Beadling writes, “Although they probably wouldn’t describe themselves as feminists…, many of the Firefly characters could be described as feminists in the second-wave sense” (Beadling 55). At the same time, however, the series aired during or following the third wave, which emphasized personal liberation. True to the Western influence of the series, maintaining individuality is a key component for both men and women, as the crew of Serenity continuously asserts autonomy from the Alliance government. But while each of the characters of Firefly maintains autonomy and individuality, these do not assume a paramount importance so as to fall into a narcissistic world view. Instead, the characters understand the benefits of working collectively as a unit; they harness their individual talents and skills to work as an efficient group.

Much as the fourth wave addresses issues and concerns in multiple areas, so too does Firefly reflect a multiplicity of feminist ideals. The series takes frequent opportunity to demonize rape and sexual assault, while still attempting to normalize sexual intercourse as an ordinary occurrence in society. The various characters and their backgrounds present perspectives from multiple economic strata. Most notably, one of the central components of the series is the constant desire of the crew to help those in need, those who have been abandoned or neglected. This is especially true of Mal and

Zoë, who fought for the Independents during the war. They fought for the people who are on the margins, metaphorically and literally. The crew itself is also made up of individuals who have been marginalized. Yet they are always seeking to help and protect

18 one another. However broad or widely dispersed concerns of the fourth wave appear to be, the idea of helping those less fortunate or in particular need remains consistent.

Firefly, in paying attention to and continually depicting these themes, presages many of the current concerns and ideas of the fourth wave.

While Firefly does not fully represent feminist ideologies of the fourth wave, as they have continued to evolve at the time of the writing of this thesis, the series does envision a blending of ideas from the second and third waves of feminism that has become characteristic of fourth wave feminism. The program depicts qualities of personal liberation and individuality associated with the third wave. It also asserts egalitarianism with an emphasis on professional development and respect that was common to the second wave. The program blends the two without inferring women are an undifferentiated collective nor narcissistically self-indulgent. The crew of Serenity wish for autonomy from the Alliance’s totalitarian conformity, but simultaneously seek to help and provide aid to those in need. It is this balancing act that helps define Firefly and allows it to embody certain traits of the second, third, and fourth feminist waves.

Recognizing the era in which Firefly aired, with respect to changes in the television landscape and evolving feminist ideologies, this thesis explores how the series sought to push back against the gender-based status quo of Hollywood programming. It did so by subverting clichés common to female characters through its egalitarian, futuristic setting. I will demonstrate how Firefly’s depictions of women cannot adequately be analyzed exclusively from the context of the third wave of feminism, whose disruption by the 9/11 terrorist attacks caused an emotional shift in feminist thought. Although the series maintains certain ideologies of the third wave, many of the

19 ideas it purports reflect the continued evolution of feminist thought, now identifiable with the fourth wave. And while there are multiple women in Firefly who could be analyzed, this thesis will focus on the character of Zoë Washburne, whose characterization reflects a subversion of the warrior woman cliché that pervaded the third wave, as well as exhibiting principles of the fourth wave.

Chapter One of this thesis recounts a brief history of science fiction television, demonstrating the significance of the era when Firefly aired. It pays particular attention to the ways women have been depicted in the space opera sub-genre and notes significant differences between pre- and post-9/11 series. Chapter Two introduces third wave feminist analyses and critiques of the warrior woman trope in science fiction television, pointing out limitations of these analyses. It discusses the approach of Philip Green that considers the warrior woman within the narrative structure of a series as well as a typology of distinctive warrior women characters and characteristics suggested by

Yvonne Tasker and developed further by Dawn Heinecken. Heinecken focuses on Joss

Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer in The Warrior Women of Television: A Feminist

Cultural Analysis of the New Female Body in Popular Media, which analyzes the female action hero on television from the same era as Firefly. I proceed to utilize the methodologies employed by Green, Tasker, and Heinecken to consider Zoë Washburne, who appears to embody the warrior woman archetype, demonstrating that these studies undertaken in the period of the third wave of feminism may not account for characters like Zoë who have continued to evolve after the third wave. I propose an addition to the threefold typology of the warrior woman suggested by Tasker, and expanded to fourfold

20 by Heinecken: the Volunteer Woman, glimpsed in Zoë, and now more important in the fourth wave of feminism.

Chapter Three considers concerns and ideologies arising in fourth wave feminism, focusing on the observations of Prudence Chamberlain. It then demonstrates how Zoë

Washburne, the Volunteer, reflects an awareness to concerns and issues that have become identifiable to that wave. Chapter Four briefly addresses shortcomings of this analysis and suggests some further thoughts and questions to be considered in future research.

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Chapter 1: “We live in a spaceship, dear”: American Science Fiction Television

As previously noted by Brian Stableford, the history of science fiction as a popular genre in the United States can be broken up into three distinct stages: pulp magazines from 1930 to 1960, book publications from 1960 to 1990, and on television since 1990 (or 1987 with respect to TNG) (Stableford). While the first two stages are interesting to observe on their own, for the purposes of this thesis I will focus on the third stage that relates to television since 1990. In the first portion of this chapter, I will briefly discuss earlier science fiction programs on American networks, ones that aired between

1949 and 1987, providing background information for the evolution of science fiction television through the 1990s. This presentation will demonstrate that women have not always occupied roles as varied or complex as Zoë in Firefly. The second portion of this chapter will address American science fiction series following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, highlighting how the genre changed as a result. The distinction of pre and post-9/11 will help to distinguish Firefly as a unique series that aired during the transition, and why Zoë does not necessarily resemble her immediate predecessors in science fiction programming. For purposes of clarity and brevity, this section will again focus primarily on science fiction in the United States.

1.1 The Science Fiction Television Revolution

In The Essential Science Fiction Television Reader, Samantha Holloway describes early science fiction television as, “a man flies to rescue beautiful women and save Earth from who are not so different from those of the United States at the time” (Holloway 180). This description, though simplistic, emphasizes that these earliest programs were essentially space-based fantasies wherein the “knight” saves the

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“damsel;” such is the case in Captain Video and His Video Rangers (1949-1955) and

Tom Corbet, Space Cadet (1950-1955). Holloway uses the term “science fiction television” to subsume space opera. At the time of these early science fiction programs, there was little other than space opera. Television producers and directors determined the form would be the most lucrative and the easiest to film with interior sets. Because the formulaic nature of these programs emphasized the male hero saving the girl, they can often be superficially described as hypermasculine space romps. Science fiction television became associated with such characteristics, offering little to the emotional and intellectual maturity of space opera beyond juvenile damsel rescues.

Following programs like Captain Video and Tom Corbet was : The

Original Series (TOS) (1966-1969), which would spawn one of the world’s largest science fiction and space opera franchises. TOS reimagined televised space opera via a

Cold War allegory envisioned by franchise creator, Gene Roddenberry. In order to attract a mainstream audience, TOS continued certain conventions established from the programs of the 1950s: it was an outer space adventure romp and the male protagonists were predominantly hypermasculine heroes who would usually “get the girl”. Captain

James T. Kirk, commander of the flagship Enterprise, was notably a lady’s man who would engage in romantic relations with women of numerous alien species. But while

TOS continued many of the pre-established hypermasculine trends, the series was also revolutionary in its inclusion of ethnic minorities and women in the main cast. Notably, this included a woman of color, Lt. Uhura, as a prominently featured character.

The series also presented itself as more intellectual than many of its space opera predecessors. It depicted technologies and innovations derived from some basis of

23 scientific fact, as well as the introduction of “soft” sciences like politics and psychology.

The politics of the Cold War allegory was an ever-present feature of the series, even if only in the background. The United Federation of Planets, the intergalactic governing body represented by Kirk and the Enterprise, corresponded to the United States in the

1960s, while the Klingon Empire was emblematic of the Soviet Union. The Cold War allegory and inclusion of “soft” sciences allowed TOS to use the formulaic narratives popularized in the 1950s, but also offer a more mature, though still campy, space opera that emphasized politics for audiences of the 1960s.

Following TOS, television in the United States of the 1970s and early 1980s almost completely abandoned space opera. I have been unable to discover a satisfactory explanation for this departure. Samantha Holloway describes the 1970s as a “dearth of space-based science fiction” in the United States, but does not offer any rationale (181).

The UK had the ongoing Doctor Who series, which launched in 1963 and continues to release new episodes into 2019, although it did experience a hiatus throughout the 1990s.

And Japan was entering a renaissance for anime in the 1970s, with the nation’s infrastructure and economy finally recovered from WWII. Space opera was one of the most popular forms of anime during the 1970s and 1980s, with the launching of major franchises still recognizable in 2019, including: Uchû senkan Yamato (Space Battleship

Yamato) (1974-1975), Space Pirate Captain Harlock (1978-1979), Mobile Suit Gundam

(1979-1980), and Super Dimensional Fortress Macross (1982-1995). Comparatively, the

United States had few space operas during those two decades, all of which were relatively short-lived: Star Trek: The Animated Series (1973-1974); and Battlestar

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Galactica (1978-1979) and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century (1979-1981), both of which were created or co-created by Glen A. Larson.

During the 1980s, however, the United States experienced broadcast media deregulation under President Ronald Reagan, as discussed in the Introduction. Science fiction genre programming benefitted from the deregulation, and space opera emerged from its nadir to experience a renaissance from the late 1980s through the early 2000s.

Between 1987 and 2005 four Star Trek series aired: TNG, Deep Space Nine (DS9) (1993-

1999), Voyager (1995-2001), and Enterprise (2001-2005); along with another Gene

Roddenberry series, Andromeda (2000-2005). With the resurging popularity of Star Trek, networks produced a number of other space operas: Red Dwarf (1988-1999, 2009, 2012- present), Babylon 5, Lexx (1997-2002), Cowboy Bebop (1998, 1998-1999, 2001-2001),9

Farscape (1999-2003), Futurama (1999-2003, 2008-2013), and three different entries in the Stargate television franchise that collectively ran from 1997 to 2011. The period also included a large number of science fiction television movies and theatrical films.

Premiering at the end of the Cold War, three of the new Star Trek programs reimagined the universe reflecting the new-found peace between the United States and the Soviet Union. Set 100 years after TOS, TNG depicted an alliance between the United

Federation of Planets and the Klingon Empire, with the Klingon character Worf featured as a principal character throughout the series. The same is true for B’Elanna Torres of

Voyager, who was the inter-species daughter of a Klingon mother and human father.

These series, along with DS9, continued narratives promoted by TOS which primarily focused on interplanetary politics. Having left the Cold War allegory behind, these

9 Cowboy Bebop is an anime series that originally aired in Japan, but quickly made it to the United States and aired on Cartoon Network’s late night, adult-oriented schedule Adult Swim.

25 programs, while still reveling in technological ingenuity and speculation, began increasingly focusing on the “soft” sciences, such as psychology. This new approach is evidenced by the inclusion of Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troi in TNG, a counselor and psychologist aboard the Enterprise. Introducing the psychological dimension also provided a means for the audience to feel a deeper connection to the characters, understanding and relating to their individual needs and struggles.

Voyager addressed these areas of “soft” science as well, though more in-depth and less overtly than TNG did with Deanna Troi. Throughout the series, B’Elanna Torres is forced to address and accept her half-human half-Klingon heritage, which had caused her extensive trauma and self-hate growing up, as she was largely rejected by both cultures. The emotional acceptance of her dual heritage is a major character arc. Two additional characters in the series are The Doctor and Seven of Nine, who undertake extensive self-reflection on themselves in relation to humanity. The Doctor is an emergency medical hologram forced into full-time service after the death of the ship’s human doctor. Over the course of seven seasons, The Doctor is afforded increased freedom to mature and develop understanding of what it means to be human, exceeding the parameters of his original programming. Likewise, Seven of Nine is a human who spent most of her life under the servitude of the Borg, a technology-based race of alien cyborgs who strive for the “perfect harmony” of homogeneity by assimilating other species. Having been liberated from the Borg, Seven of Nine must re-learn what it means to be human, to be an individual and not merely a cog in the Borg collective hivemind.

These narrative and conceptual elements reflect a growing maturity of televised space opera following TNG.

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Voyager also featured the first female starship captain in the Star Trek franchise:

Captain Kathryn Janeway. The series took the opportunity to feature her prominently, both as a Captain and military officer, as well as a maternal figure for many of the crew.

She was never depicted as weak or in need of rescue simply based on her gender, but also was never shamed or criticized for her compassion and kindness.

Aside from Star Trek, the most successful science fiction and space opera franchise from the late 1990s through the 2000s was Stargate. After a moderately successful theatrical film in 1994, the premise was moved to television in 1997 with

Stargate SG-1 (SG-1), which lasted for 10 seasons (1997-2007). SG-1 proved successful enough to launch two live-action spinoffs – (SGA) (2004-2009) and

Stargate Universe (SGU) (2009-2011) – two feature-length television movies – Stargate:

The Ark of Truth (2008) and Stargate: Continuum (2008) – the animated spinoff Stargate

Infinity (2002-2003), and a 10-episode web series Stargate Origins (2018). Stargate departed from the standard format of interplanetary space travel via space ship, instead envisioning an Einstein-Rosen bridge portal, called a Stargate, that allowed near- instantaneous transportation between planets. Because of the Stargate, there was less need from a narrative perspective for space ships, and much of the franchise was planetary-based.

While the franchise did emphasize believability and plausibility to existing technologies and technological theories, as well as accuracy in its depiction of the United

States Airforce that fictionally controlled and oversaw operations of the Stargate,10 SG-1 constructed much of its narrative primarily around the mythology of ancient Earth

10 The United States Airforce actually served as consultants throughout the series to ensure accuracy of military protocol.

27 civilizations. Stan Beeler notes the Stargate franchise “used Egyptian mythology as a primary component of its basic premise, and it integrated facts and preconceptions about ancient Egypt available in popular culture with the science fiction elements of star travel and alien beings” (Beeler 272). As SG-1 progressed, it also introduced elements of the

Arthurian legend, Greek mythology, and Norse mythology into the narrative.

SG-1 featured four protagonists of varying backgrounds, which allowed the series to examine and provide commentary on numerous ideas or areas of interest. One of the characters was a special operations military veteran who viewed military threats and acquisition of advanced weaponry as the core to the team’s mission; another was a linguist and anthropologist who was interested in meeting and learning about new people and ancient cultures; the third was an Air Force officer whose formal education as an astrophysicist mandated a focus on hard sciences and technological ingenuity that would benefit the people of Earth; and the final member was a freed alien slave whose primary goal was the liberation of his people from their oppressors. Through the successful blend of hard and soft sciences, as well as the inclusion of myth, Stargate became one of the most robust space opera franchises in American history.

These television space operas represented futuristic settings that were largely egalitarian, with the men and women of equal status. The military-style chain of command depicted throughout Star Trek and Stargate emphasize rank over gender and sex; although Star Trek did not have a female captain until the fourth series, Voyager.

And while both franchises showcased innovations in hard science through plausible developments in technology, they also proved adept in their attention to soft sciences.

Star Trek provided opportunity for therapy for its characters, who exhibited immense

28 character development following personal trauma or liberation from alien oppressors.

Stargate’s utilization of four protagonists allowed for commentary and exploration of language and culture, military and war, as well as slavery and colonialism. Both franchises demonstrate the increased maturity of the space opera genre on television.

1.2 Space Opera Post-9/11

In The Cambridge Companion to American Science Fiction, David M. Higgins observes two major trends that characterize and define American science fiction following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the United States. First, he states,

“the trope of the alien encounter (or alien invasion) is reformulated and redeployed during this period to address an environment of spectacular and indeterminate omnicrisis that can imaginatively encompass threats ranging from terrorism and biological attacks to natural disasters” (Higgins 45). In short, the alien encounter or alien invasion became a catch-all for any and all large-scale crises for which there was otherwise no understandable rationale. Higgins continues: “Rather than battling an enemy with alternative but comprehensible motivations, [science fiction] protagonists wage war against the personified experience of terror itself” (47). Aliens came to represent the living embodiment of the crisis. They could function as an explicit evil, harkening back to Cold War era good-bad dichotomies and provide an easy villain for the audience to identify, while still appearing vague enough to represent a variety of crises. These new alien invasion narratives also addressed issues made relevant from the United States’ invasion and occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan: military intervention and exertion of power, torture, and surveillance, both domestic and abroad, in the name, I would add as above, of patriotism and nationalism.

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Higgins observes a second trend: “an intensification of technoscientific advancement and neoliberal capitalist expansion leads to pervasive experience in the

West during this time that many Americans (and others) are themselves living in a science fictional milieu” (45). By this, he is suggesting that many science fiction narratives were featuring technologies that were no longer merely plausible, but already existing in the real world. Issues surrounding surveillance and government oversight became pervasive in the narratives of science fiction, and the audience believed such technologies were no longer exclusively fictional. Such is the case in the feature film

Minority Report (2002) and the anime television series Psycho-Pass (2012-2013), where advanced technologies enable law enforcement agencies to predict or foresee future crimes and criminals.

With increasing audience desire for relatable and “realistic” narratives, many science fiction programs scaled back their outlandish plots and settings, reformulating the stories to foreground identifiable peoples and locations. As a result, space opera again, as in the 1970s and early 1980s, faded somewhat from popularity on television during the

2000s. It was supplanted by alien invasion stories with an emphasis on terrestrial-based narratives, such as Invader ZIM (2001-2004), V (2009-2011), and Falling Skies (2011-

2015). More common, however, were programs that departed from alien narratives entirely, focusing exclusively on humans and humanity on Earth: The 4400 (2004-2007),

Lost (2004-2010), Eureka (2006-2012), Heroes (2006-2010), and Dollhouse (2009-

2010). Those space operas that endured were predominantly extensions of existing franchises, with only one wholly original program premiering in the United States post

9/11. During the 2000s, both live-action spinoffs to Stargate premiered, as well as Star

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Trek: Enterprise, each of which continued stories within existing franchises.

Additionally, Battlestar Galactica (BSG) launched a highly lauded reboot that reimagined the narrative from the original series. But Firefly was the only non-derivative space opera to premiere on American networks in the 2000s. Otherwise, the genre experienced another hiatus until 2014, after which eight separate programs have premiered: Star Wars Rebels (2014-2018), (2015-2019), Dark Matter (2015-

2017), The Expanse (2015-present), Mars (2016-present), The Orville (2017-present),

Star Trek: Discovery (2017-present), and Final Space (2018-present).

While Enterprise, Atlantis, and Universe all continued existing conventions of their respective franchises, Firefly and BSG departed from many of the norms of space opera from the 1990s. They abandoned the alien narratives that pervaded other franchises to focus exclusively on humans. Both were set during or after a war that appears to be allegorical to events in United States’ history – the US Civil War and the Invasion of the

Middle East in the 2000s. Both made cases for caution regarding the dangers of government oversight and technological advancement. Interestingly, however, the two series depicted these same issues from opposing perspectives. Whereas BSG provided narratives exclusively from the perspectives of the government and the military chain of command, Firefly explored these themes from outside the government. together, these departures represent the growth and maturity of space opera on television.

The reboot of BSG begins with a two-part miniseries, in which a highly advanced

“race” of sentient robots, Cylons,11 launch a massive terrorist attack against the Twelve

11 I refrain from calling Cylons aliens, because they were originally man-made robots before turning against their creators and becoming self-sufficient for replication. This is explored more in the prequel series, (2009-2010).

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Colonies of Kobol, the homeworlds of humans. Having been under an assumed truce for the previous 40 years, the attack was not expected, nor was the level of destruction it caused. Those who survived the assault join the Battlestar-class ship, Galactica, an outmoded spaceship due to be decommissioned. With Galactica acting as the flagship of the newly formed Colonial Fleet, the humans venture out into the universe in search of

Kobol, the long-lost ancestral homeworld from which their species was born. The initial premise bears strong similarities to the US military involvement in the Middle East: a war that resulted in a tenuous truce, followed by an unexpected and devastating terrorist attack years later. Against such a backdrop, the series addresses issues prevalent in the

United States at the time, including: religion and religious imperatives, nationalism, governmental oversight, military command, and xenophobia.

Both programs also took the opportunity to experiment with space opera, allowing conventions of other genres to significantly influence the narrative. Firefly, though set in outer space, narratively functions more often than not as a Hollywood Western. The characters’ desires to escape civilization and experience the peacefulness of the wilderness (outer space) is a recurring motif throughout the series, causing trouble on more than one occasion. Likewise, BSG is a war story masquerading as a space opera, with the entire narrative from the perspective of the military. Both programs take conventions common to other genres, then overlay the space opera façade. Additionally, both series largely avoid the use of pseudosciences to drive the narrative, and instead rely on existing technologies or plausible technological developments. Fantastical technologies or scientific advancements occasionally appear, but they are generally outliers and not meant to carry the series as a whole.

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Firefly and BSG followed most programs of the 2000s emphasizing “defend

America” narratives, but also managed to continue to challenge conventions for gender on Hollywood television. As in his previous series, Joss Whedon continued his project of subverting female-based clichés. For example, Inara Serra subverts the Madonna-whore paradigm through her status as a Companion. While Companions are legal courtesans and work in the sex trade, they maintain high-profile social status through a guild system. As a Companion, Inara is more respected than any other member of the crew of Serenity and affords the ship the permission to dock on some planets where they otherwise might not be welcome. At times, Inara is shown to wield more power and clout than even the most wealthy and privileged of the social elite, as in the episode “” when she forever bans a lord from contracting with the Companion Guild in the future.

Aside from a few episodes in which Cylons attempt to use human women as incubators, BSG avoids issues of gender almost entirely. Instead, the series presents a future in which gender disparity appears to be entirely resolved. In her essay, “Is

Starbuck a Woman?”, Sarah Conly describes Simone de Beauvoir’s assessment that women cannot change until society and men have changed the way they view women.

She writes of BSG, “Fortunately, this has happened in the world in which Starbuck lives”

(Conly 236). Starbuck is one of the most revered fighter pilots in the military, who also happens to be a woman. Conly continues, “Colonial society is less gendered than our own: Starbuck is one of many female pilots, the Colonial President is a woman, and the only surviving battlestar besides [Galactica] is commanded by a woman…. While both

President Roslin and Admiral Cain have had their naysayers, they’re not attacked for simply being women in men’s roles” (236).

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While both programs depict imagined evolutions of women’s equality, Whedon’s consistent advocacy of feminist ideologies and willingness to openly explore feminist issues and concerns makes Firefly a unique series to analyze in relation to feminist waves.

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Chapter 2: “Big damn heroes”: Warrior Women of the Third Wave

The previous chapter served to situate Firefly in the history of science fiction television, specifically the subgenre of space opera, and how the genre changed following the 9/11 terrorist attacks. This chapter will highlight important analyses of the warrior woman characters who increasingly appeared in science fiction genres and became compelling figures in the eyes of third wave feminists. The pervasiveness and popularity of these characters during the 1990s attracted the attention of many third wave theorists.

For this chapter, I will use Dawn Heinecken’s analysis of the warrior woman trope through the dialogue she attempts to create among a number of theorists as they examine female action heroes. The first portion of this chapter will review methodologies used by

Heinecken along with Philip Green and Yvonne Tasker in analyzing female action heroes as they were depicted during the third wave. It will focus on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena: Warrior Princess, both of which featured iconic women in science fiction television. The female heroes, who are presented often as isolated figures in strongly individualistic terms, have been criticized by some feminist writers as narcissistic for their inability to energize broader cultural change. Alternatively, when not read as narcissistic, these characters are continuously compared to men and never deemed capable enough to succeed on their own.

The second half of the chapter will observe how Zoë Washburne can be read as an evolution of the warrior woman trope. Yet Zoë never fully aligns with Heinecken’s analysis. Because, as I have suggested, Firefly aired during an interruption of the third wave of feminism, readings of the program in the same vein as series like TNG or Buffy seem incomplete. Characters such as Zoë are reminiscent of more traditional depictions

35 of the warrior woman, but also represent the continued progression and evolution of the trope.

2.1 Individuality, Warrior Women, and the Body

A number of writers have put forth critiques from the perspective of the third wave of feminism for female characters and action heroes coming out of 1980s and 1990s film and television. In The Warrior Women of Television, Dawn Heinecken draws from these criticisms, attempting to create a dialogue among the various writers she references, in order to examine female action heroes on television. She primarily considers the works of Sherrie Inness, Yvonne Tasker, and Philip Green. Heinecken begins by examining male action heroes, specifically depictions of their bodies, and what such depictions mean for the characters. She refers to “The A-Team, Rambo, Die Hard and Lethal Weapon” in which “the action hero’s body is stained with blood and sweat. The hero emerges victorious after being shot, battered, or tortured in diabolical ways …. The hero’s taut, heavily muscled body summarizes the genre …. evoking a ‘hardness’ that exists beyond the physical” (Heinecken 1). From there, Heinecken begins her analysis of female action heroes, likening their bodies to those of male-led, over-the-top action blockbusters from the 1980s and 1990s. She describes how women’s bodies have historically been viewed as weaker or softer, more delicate; but observes that programs like Xena and Buffy seem to showcase women who are molded after the 1980s action hero, “harder, stronger, and tougher” (1). Heinecken celebrates this change, but skeptically asks: “What does the current proliferation of female action heroes in television really tell us about contem- porary attitudes towards the female hero, the female body, and female power?” (2).

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Heinecken concludes that studies focusing on programs such as Xena and Buffy

“help to articulate the ways that media representations of women are changing and are suggestive of cultural changes in regard to women’s public power” (29). But her conclusion appears almost as skeptical as her question. She agrees with Sherrie Inness, who concludes characters like Xena do promote the “tough girl” as self-sufficient, only to be simultaneously undercut by other aspects of the programs themselves. Heinecken summarizes Inness’ characterization of Xena: “independence from male characters, her self-reliance, her use of her body as her main fighting tool…, her lack of concern over how she appears to men, her relationship to her sidekick, Gabrielle, and the series’ relatively ambiguous depiction of her sexuality” (29). But Inness observes that Xena exclusively represents white feminism; the character is not as inclusive to other demographics. She also notes that “the prominent use of camp and humor diminishes her threat” (Inness 173). Although Inness criticizes the campy nature of the series, she acknowledges that “the campy quality of the show also enables such a character to be shown on mainstream television and to become phenomenally popular” (173). However, the need to justify the camp only emphasizes the disparity whereby women have not been considered as seriously as their male counterparts. While Hercules: The Legendary

Journeys (1995-1999)12 used camp to initially attract a larger, more family-friendly audience, Xena required it to stay on the air. Based on these observations, Heinecken posits: “It is therefore possible that the media industry may be adopting a ‘feminist face’

… while constructing these shows in such a way as to diffuse their feminist potential”

(Heinecken 5).

12 Hercules: The Legendary Journeys was Xena’s parent series. The character first appeared as a villain in the first season of Hercules before receiving her own spinoff later that same year.

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Continuing in her analysis, Heinecken cites Yvonne Tasker, who coined the term

“musculinity” in her book Working Girls. Tasker defines this term: “an enactment of a muscular masculinity involving a display of power and strength over the body of the female performer” (Tasker 70). She describes the need for female action heroes to adopt the buff, muscular, male-associated physicality for their roles, which largely supplants their female identities. She points to Ripley from the Alien (1979-present) franchise and

Sarah Connor from 2: Judgment Day (1991) as female characters who

“buffed-up.” This representation of strength and power is a cue to the preconditioned audience that these women need to be taken more seriously now that they resemble the male form.

The idea of the buff female action hero was once subversive for women on screen, but it has since become cliché of warrior women characters as they appear in various media. The buff masculinity, though initially described in film, is also observable for television characters like Xena and Buffy, though more the former than the latter, as

Buffy’s portrayal is meant to reminisce and subvert the blonde cheerleader, final-girl archetype from slasher horror films. While Xena largely succumbs to this new cliché,

Lorna Jowett writes, “I believe that Buffy presents neither a ‘subversive’ nor a

‘conservative’ view of gender but, rather, a contradictory mixture of both” (Jowett 1).

This contradictory mixture is characteristic of series created by Joss Whedon, who loves to lean into and subvert tropes equally. As such, Jowett’s assessment is equally apt for

Whedon’s other programs, including Firefly.

Considering these viewpoints on gender, Heinecken adopts Tasker’s typology of female action heroes, which recognizes aggressiveness as a defining element, while

38 distinguishing among types according to the source and object of the aggression: as

“macho/masculine, as mothers or as Others” (Heinecken 28). The aggressiveness that identifies the “mother” as an action hero is inherently derived from her maternal need to protect and save her children or surrogate children, e.g., Sarah Connor to in

Terminator 2: Judgment Day. The “macho/masculine” woman is described as a tomboy whose entire character is identified by her relationship with either her father or another male authority figure. Her aggression is “read as a stage of adolescence on route to accepting ‘true’ womanhood”, e.g., China O’Brien in China O’Brien (1988) (28). And

“Others” are described as the “fetishistic figure of fantasy,” which are evident in comic books or other media featuring exaggerated female sexuality as a form of aggression, much like a dominatrix, e.g., Cassie Hack in the comic book Hack/Slash (2004-2015,

2017-present) (28).

Building on Tasker’s threefold typology of female action heroes, Heinecken suggests a fourth: “Moving between these three modes is the feisty female hero, simultaneously appearing as a romantic interest or sexual object as well as a protagonist”

(28). Heinecken observes that this “feistiness” is always defined by the female heroes’ relation to men and that they are “clearly different and set apart from other women” (28).

Because they are so different and set apart, these “feisty” heroes will often appear as some sort of “chosen one” or possible messiah figure who feels the responsibility to complete their journey in solitude. This is demonstrated by Buffy in Buffy the Vampire

Slayer: the Prophecy of the Slayer13 specifies “Into every generation, there is a chosen one. One girl in all the world. She alone will wield the strength and skill…” (“Welcome

13 The Prophecy of the Slayer is the creed or call to action that is spoken before the pilot episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It informs the audience of the Slayer’s mission as the Chosen One.

39 to the Hellmouth”). The phrases “chosen one,” “One girl,” and “She alone” emphasize the solitary life Buffy is expected to live, just like every Slayer before her.

In discussing the solitary, mythic Chosen One and the female action hero,

Heinecken refers to Philip Green, who argues that “In [media] such as these, if only in fantasy, women are now becoming imaginable as ‘the individual,’ the mythic bedrock of liberal capitalism …. a doer of heroic deeds men can identify with even though … she inhabits the body of a woman” (Green 188). These mythic Chosen Ones are almost forcibly separated from societal norms. Because of pre-destined expectations thrust upon them, they cannot fully identify and relate to “normal” people, nor can they make others fully comprehend their call to action. The notion of a Chosen One is not inherently bad; it is a common plot device in stories from all media: Buffy Summers and Faith Lehane in

Buffy, Captain Sisko in DS9, Duncan MacLeod in Highlander (1992-1998), and any number of characters from (2011-2019); Billy Batson from the Captain

Marvel/Shazam comic books, or Peter Parker from the Ultimates14 universe of Spider-

Man in Marvel Comics; Po from Kung Fu Panda (2008), John Connor from the

Terminator franchise (1984-present), Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars, Neo from The

Matrix trilogy (1999-2003); or even Jesus of Nazareth. But these characters or figures are generally male. The caveat to Green’s assessment is that the female action hero has achieved equality to men only within the fantasy world of the text. Male Chosen Ones become the messiah and superlative champion to lead and save all people, whereas female Ones simply achieve power similar to some men. Because it is a “man’s world,”

14 The Ultimates universe of Marvel Comics was an offshoot of their mainstream continuity that lasted from 2000-2015 and allowed authors to experiment without the same restrictions of the mainstream universe. In it, Peter Parker’s origin was slightly amended so that the freak accident that made him Spider- Man was actually pre-destined and he was always meant to be the iconic hero.

40 the best a woman can hope for is being equal, even if they are a predestined savior. The female action hero or Chosen One can best be regarded as an outlier rather than the standard bearer for a women’s movement. She represents herself and only herself.

Heinecken believes Green’s methodology limited or restricted his analysis and the implications he found for female action heroes. She observes, “[Green] is mainly concerned with narrative structure rather than other elements of signification that portray the female hero quite differently than if she were Jean Claude Van Damme” (Heinecken

24). Heinecken is critiquing the narrow scope of Green’s analysis: from strictly a narrative perspective, the female action hero is self-absorbed and only seeking personal benefit to achieve equal status to men. Any potential feminist advance that occurs is specific to Buffy, and perhaps her immediate friends, not effecting wide-spread change to anyone else in the series. Buffy is the exception, not the rule.

While Heinecken’s critique of Green has merit, her own methodology seems to fall back onto the familiar problematic that a woman is always defined by those around her, even as the Chosen One. The male Chosen One always appears to single-handedly save the day, while the female One requires the aid of others for an on-screen comparison of abilities. For example, Heinecken notes that “despite functioning as the ‘individual,’” the female action hero, unlike the male action hero, still maintains friends or some collective of people who will fight with her (24). She also notes that instead of a “‘babe’ to rescue, the romantic interest usually fights better than she does” (24). Even when she is supposed to be the “best,” the romantic interest is still better. These observations complicate readings of the female action hero. Does she require friends because she, even as the Chosen One, is still less than her male counterparts, or do women inherently

41 understand the benefits of maintaining friendships and allies? Or, conversely, are men simply bad at maintaining such relationships? Is the male romantic interest a better fighter because he is male? Because he has more training? Because even when the woman is the Chosen One a man’s fighting prowess is the benchmark by which the audience must abide?

For example, Buffy Summers is established as a Chosen One from the pilot episode, “Welcome to the Hellmouth.”15 Though she is raised by a single mother, Buffy has a male mentor at her school, Rupert Giles, the school librarian. As her Watcher, Giles is designated with the task of training and deploying her on missions to defend the Earth.

Yet Giles’ presence as a Watcher largely renders Buffy decisionless and, despite her power, subservient to men. Additionally, having just moved to the town of Sunnydale,

Buffy befriends Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris, who accept her destiny as the

Slayer and offer to help as best they can. Throughout the series, the group of friends expands as other members periodically come and go, collectively referring to themselves as the “Scooby Gang” or “Scoobies” in homage of Scooby Doo, Where Are You!. The constant rotation of friends in and out of the Scoobies potentially implies that Buffy is incapable of saving the world alone and thus ineffectual as a Slayer. In addition to the

Scoobies, there is Angel, a centuries-old vampire whose soul has been returned to him.

He is the star-crossed lover to Buffy. Angel has had generations to master his fighting abilities, all but ensuring that Buffy will never match him in skill and ability, an idea

15 I use “a” instead of “the” to describe Buffy as a Chosen One because at the end of the first season she is briefly killed, and before being resuscitated the next Slayer in succession is appointed, a girl named Kendra who is introduced in the second season. Kendra, an Afro-Caribbean girl, is killed as the second Slayer during the second season, but the order of succession has already progressed beyond Buffy and thus another Slayer is appointed. This third Slayer is Faith Lehane, who becomes a recurring character for the rest of the series. This further complicates the woman-as-Chosen-One concept, as Buffy is only the singular Slayer for one season of the series.

42 supported in the series as Buffy died twice (in seasons one and five) whereas Angel remained “alive” for hundreds of years.

Green’s methodology in attending to narrative structure, and Heinecken’s in focusing on relationships among characters, led them to a range of analyses and conclusions regarding Buffy and other programs of the time that featured female action heroes. When considered together in the dialogue that Heinecken has created, the two analyses appear at odds with one another and create an unwinnable dichotomy for female action heroes. Green’s assessment implies that characters like Buffy are not relatable and the results of their actions deem their means egotistic and self-serving. In contrast,

Heinecken’s evaluation judges Buffy in relation to others, mainly men, whose years of experience or positions of power ultimately render the protagonist hapless. However, I regard both approaches to be insufficient. The two analyses present characters like Buffy as unable to succeed either as individuals or part of a group, for they fail at both. As a solitary hero Buffy is self-serving, but requiring the aid of others undercuts the designation “Chosen One.” As a result, readings of programs that aired during third wave feminism could assert such series to be both narcissistic and a regressive failure for feminism and women’s rights, but that would be a gross oversight of the benefits of these series and characters in advancing feminist concerns.

2.2 “I can hurt you.”

Like Xena and Buffy, Zoë represents a continued evolution of the warrior woman trope post-9/11, departing from the highly individualized and narcissistic readings of such characters from the 1990s. Unlike Xena or Buffy, Zoë does not explicitly reflect any of the models identified by Dawn Heinecken. She cannot be so easily categorized into

43

Yvonne Tasker’s typology, nor Heinecken’s addition to it. Xena is best categorized as a

“macho/masculine” woman based on her tomboy-ish nature, as well as her relationship to

Hercules, who represents the male authority figure and the standard of “good” and

“moral” that she strives to emulate. As the series progresses, Xena’s aggression, which identifies her as a warrior woman, lessens as she matures and leaves behind her extended stage of adolescence, a defining characteristic of the macho/masculine woman. Buffy is also easy to identify with one of Tasker and Heinecken’s types, specifically as the “feisty female hero.” She appears as both the protagonist and romantic interest or sexual object, always being defined by her relations to men: Angel, Giles, etc.

Zoë, however, does not precisely align with any of the classifications presented by

Tasker and Heinecken. She is not a mother; she has no children to defend, biological or surrogate, that might rationalize her sense of aggression. Arguments could be made that she is the metaphorical mother to the crew of Serenity, but that would ignore or neglect her history prior to the series. Her aggression existed before life on Serenity, as demonstrated through flashbacks to her time as a soldier in the War for Independence.

But even examining her life aboard Serenity, Zoë never fits a maternal role among the crew. That need for a maternal figure is often filled by Inara Serra, the high society courtesan who lives aboard the ship. Inara is often seen coddling or looking after younger members of the crew, as well as providing counsel to those seeking guidance. Zoë is never presented this way, and instead navigates the practicality of missions, jobs, and keeping the crew safe.

Similarly, Zoë is not a macho/masculine woman seen in a stage of adolescence, neither emotionally nor biologically. She is a mature woman and is never defined by her

44 relationship to a father or other male authority figure. Zoë is married to Wash, the pilot of

Serenity, but they each have distinct personalities that existed prior to their marriage.

Wash is goofy, child-like, and casual. In the pilot episode, “Serenity,” he is introduced playing with dinosaur toys in his pilot’s chair on the bridge of the ship. Conversely, Zoë is stern and ever-professional, never really abandoning the habits she developed from her time in the military. Even though Wash worries about Zoë while she is away on missions, he understands his role as the pilot and that she is better equipped to handle scenarios involving fighting. And while Zoë has known Mal since serving together during the war, she is never reliant on him to define herself. They have maintained the chain of command to which they adhered in the military – Mal outranked Zoë – but that never prevents Zoë from disagreeing with Mal or asserting her own opinions and concerns.

Zoë is also not representative of Tasker’s classification of the Other, for at no point is she used as a “fetishistic figure of fantasy.” She is sexual and enjoys sex, but never weaponizes it as a form of aggression. Other women in the series do weaponize their sexuality, specifically the character Saffron who attempts to hijack the ship for her own goals, but never Zoë. At the same time, even when Zoë demonstrates her more sexual sides in the privacy of her and Wash’s cabin, she is never hypersexualized or used as eye-candy for the audience. She also does not use her sexuality to dominate Wash, and the audience is led to believe the bedroom is the one place Zoë lets Wash be dominant in their relationship.

Moreover, Zoë does not fully represent Heinecken’s feisty female hero. She is never depicted as a romantic interest because she is already married to Wash. And outside their bedroom, Zoë is never treated as a sexual object, especially without her

45 consent. In the episode “Shindig,” Jayne, the hired muscle of the crew, attempts to objectify Zoë while they admire ballgowns in a shop window. Zoë’s response is simply to say, “I can hurt you,” causing Jayne to immediately regret his words (1.04). She is also not set apart or highly differentiated from other women; she is not purposefully different or abnormal and has no greater call-to-action that would designate her as a mythic

Chosen One. There are other women in the military and Zoë is never implied to be unique or especially powerful. She is simply a good soldier and fighter.

An argument could be made that another character in Firefly represents a Chosen

One. is a fugitive from the Alliance government after escaping a secret military organization whose experiments left her mentally and emotionally unstable.

While River does possess some superhuman qualities, specifically her telepathy, she cannot fully control these abilities; instead, they make her erratic and unpredictable. More often than not, they are a detriment to River’s capacity to function as a normal human being. And it is those superhuman abilities that have caused the Alliance to continue to search for her. But even with these abilities it is hard to consider River as a female

Chosen One because she is depicted as relatively androgynous. In her essay “‘Much

Madness is Divinest Sense’: Firefly’s ‘Big Damn Heroes’ and Little Witches,” Alyson R.

Buckman writes, “Whedon provides another blow to masculine discourse through his resistance to sexualize River. Since River is seventeen, she is able to function both as girl and woman …. Her visual construction is waifish …. She often goes barefoot, maintaining her tactile contact with the ship” (Buckman 46). As Buckman observes,

River is gendered, with the crew referring to her as “she” and “her,” and she often wears dresses when wandering aimlessly around the ship. Physically, she is depicted as female.

46

But aside from select dialogue and costume choices, River’s character could have been played by a male and nothing would have changed.

Beyond that, River’s own understandings and interpretations of gender and existence challenge the norms otherwise assumed by the other characters. For example, in

“Safe,” Mal comments that in the three weeks they had been transporting cattle on

Serenity, River would not go near the animals, but once they were off the ship she appears best friends with the cows. River explains “They weren’t cows inside. They were waiting to be, but they forgot. Now they see sky, and they remember what they are”

(1.05). She is commenting on how, in the vastness of space, the cows were not what they appeared to be; they could not assume their identity in the unknown. They were simply a non-descript lifeform with no set purpose. In “,” much of the episode is constructed so the audience may experience events as River does. As she wanders the ship in the opening scene, she unintentionally hears the thoughts of the crew with her telepathic abilities, reading their minds; members of the crew break from their conversations to recite their other thoughts, wishes, and regrets that are otherwise hidden from conversation. When River reaches the cargo bay, she bends over to pick up a stick from the ground, saying “Just an object. It doesn’t mean what you think” (1.14). As she stares at the stick the rest of the crew begins to panic, telling her to put down the object.

When River looks back at the stick, it has become a gun. Later in this episode, River claims to have melted away and become Serenity; she is Serenity. As Buckman observes,

“Like the gun [or ship], River doesn’t ‘mean anything.’ Her essence isn’t predetermined”

(Buckman 47). To her, everything is just an object. Gender or other socially constructed

47 terms are meaningless in the endless void of outer space. There is no inherent need for her to be a woman, and thereby nothing that mandates she be a female Chosen One.

Heinecken seemed to understand the limitations of Tasker’s typology when she suggested the addition of the feisty female hero. But she built upon it when proposing her addition, as opposed to formulating an original definition or classification for warrior women. The immediacy of this approach prevented Heinecken from imagining how the warrior woman might evolve beyond a character like Buffy; one who would not be constantly defined by men nor reliant on explicitly gendered descriptors. As David

Magill writes in his essay “‘I Aim to Misbehave’: Masculinities in the ‘Verse,” “Zoë is the strongest challenge to the assumed correlation between gender and biological genitalia; her masculine abilities support Whedon’s vision of socially constructed gender roles, a definition essential for his project of advancing ethical behaviors for both genders” (Magill 78). Zoë could not easily be categorized within Tasker’s existing typology because she represents a challenge to traditional gender roles within society.

Zoë appears also to defy the unwinnable dichotomy left by Heinecken between

Green and herself. Green asserts that the female action hero is so different and removed from societal norms that she cannot possibly represent and champion other women. He is assuming there can only be one female action hero in any given fictional universe, and that she is a unique exception to the rules established by male dominated society. For a woman to be the action hero, she must be the Chosen One. But this is not the case for Zoë and the other women of Firefly. Each of the women of the series is capable and powerful in her own way, demonstrated by their varied skills. Zoë’s just happen to be the skills of a soldier. But even then, she is one of many female soldiers to have fought on either side in

48 the War for Independence. And she never attempts to stand out as a champion for everyone or every woman, instead believing it is best to help those in need without any expectation for praise or adulation. Green’s assertions that the female action hero defeats any galvanizing political momentum because she is unrelatable, which then causes her to be read as narcissistic and self-serving, cannot be applied to Zoë. She is specifically depicted as a kind of everywoman figure, someone who is highly relatable and willing to fight for greater changes in society. Even though she fought for the losing side of a war and works primarily as a smuggler, Zoë always puts the needs of others ahead of her own.

In addition to defying Green’s assessment, Zoë also fails to fit neatly into

Heinecken’s typology. In critiquing Green, Heinecken argued that female action heroes are compared to and defined by those around them, specifically men. And while it is certainly difficult to discuss Zoë independent of others – she is married and lives on a ship with eight other people – she is never defined by nor dependent upon them. Instead, she is defined by her experiences both aboard Serenity and prior to her life in the series.

Both Zoë and Mal were soldiers. Her identity as a warrior is not validated because of Mal and his journey; rather, the ease of their rapport is defined because they were both soldiers first. They have the bond of fighting a war together and coming out the other side alive. Mal is equally as influenced by Zoë as she is by him.

In the episode “Bushwacked,” when the crew is being interrogated by an Alliance military officer, Zoë faces a provocative series of questions. The officer begins by asking if Zoë loves her husband, a question she does not see as relevant to the situation. He then asks if she was introduced to Wash through Mal. Zoë answers that things just worked out:

49

Mal needed a pilot; she found a husband in the process. The officer continues, “You fought with Captain Reynolds in the war?” To which Zoë responds, “Fought with a lot of people in the war.” The officer presses further, “And your husband?” and Zoë replies,

“Fight with him sometimes too.” Her answers are simple and humorous as they play out, eliciting surprise from the officer, demonstrating that she is clearly not responding as expected. By asking if Zoë fought with Mal, the officer is assuming the war is about the captain, insinuating that Mal’s role in the war was of greater significance and impact than

Zoë’s, and that she followed him into battle. Her answer conveys that a war is fought by many people, and that she and Mal are of no real significance in the grand scheme of things. They fought side-by-side for the same cause. When the officer asks if she fought with her husband, the implied question is asking whether they have fought side-by-side.

But Zoë’s response indicates that she sometimes fights against her husband and the two have arguments, that they are two autonomous individuals with their own agency. She feels no “wifely” obligation to follow him into battle. Regardless of her relationships with others, Zoë never lets herself be defined by anyone but herself.

Based on this assessment, Zoë complicates nearly every portion of the conversation Heinecken has constructed between herself and the other scholars. She is neither narcissistic in her actions, nor requires the presence of a man to be defined by or against. Zoë also cannot be identified by any type of warrior woman created by Tasker or

Heinecken, yet her very profession and history as a soldier contend that she is, in fact, a warrior. Because Zoë does not adequately identify with any of Tasker’s existing categories, it may be best to offer an addition to her typology regarding the warrior woman. In the next chapter, I will propose the “Volunteer Woman” as an additional type

50 that can be glimpsed in Zoë, and has become a much more important type in the ideology of the fourth wave of feminism.

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Chapter 3: “When you can’t run, you crawl. And when you can’t crawl - when you

can’t do that …. You find someone to carry you”: Zoë Washburne

3.1 The Fourth Wave

At the time of the writing of this thesis, the fourth wave of feminism is ongoing, making any analysis of a television program from fourth wave feminist perspectives incomplete. Because the fourth wave is ongoing, it is difficult to formalize a definition and ideology. An ideology is simpler to define upon the completion of the wave, as evidenced by the first, second, and third feminist waves. Prudence Chamberlain would likely concur with this assessment, as she writes: “As a moment of activism unfolds, elements of it can be identified, but a sense of the complete picture cannot be drawn until after the event” (Chamberlain 5). Therefore, the identification of a fourth wave of feminism could not occur until there was a more widely accepted conclusion of the third wave. The conclusion of the third wave occurred when the ideologies associated with it had largely run their course, when the formal identifiable markers were no longer apt and appropriate when describing feminism in a new era. This is equally true for the fourth wave, which is emerging with its own tenets and ideologies. However, formulating a more conclusive definition prior to the wave’s completed evolution is not likely.

Despite growing acknowledgement of a fourth wave of feminism, there is some debate whether we have even entered a fourth wave and, if so, how to characterize it. One of the ideas Kira Cochrane identifies with the fourth wave is online feminism, or an online presence that has lent itself to organizing events and dispersing ideas. But,

Chamberlain also points to Debbie Stoller, cofounder of the women’s lifestyle magazine

Bust, who “states that she has not noticed a fourth wave,” and that “technological

52 platforms, including social media, have just allowed younger feminists to disseminate the same information in new ways” (11). Chamberlain further reports of Stoller: “She also suggests that there is an almost-return to some of the thinking of second wave” (11).16

One second wave principle Stoller would likely identify as making a resurgence in the fourth wave can be characterized by the phrase “the personal is political.” Ealasaid

Munro defines this phrase “as a means of highlighting the impact of sexism and patriarchy on every aspect of women’s private lives” (Munro). Munro observes how women of the second wave took every day aspects of their lives and politicized them as a means to achieve change, both politically and socially. Initially private concerns became vocalized by a nearly homogenous group of women to instigate change. If the concern applies to one person, it is an outlier; if it applies to the masses, then it can be weaponized for political action. Stoller’s interpretation of a “return” to the second wave, however, does not account for the evolution of society, politicized feminism, and how principles of the second wave are being used. It is not so simple as the second wave returning, but how ideas of the second wave are being appropriated and implemented in a new era while addressing new and evolving concerns.

This is where Chamberlain is unhappy with the entire wave narrative surrounding feminism. She writes, “In spite of an emphasis on wave division, feminism has been uniform in its aim of creating a society in which women and men are treated equally”

(Chamberlain 12). While the wave designations are helpful in identifying particular moments of increased activism, they neglect the ongoing evolution of feminism as one continuous movement. Simply because the wave ends or fades from prominence does not

16 Chamberlain is referencing an interview with Stoller conducted by Jennifer Baumgardner, transcribed in Baumgardner’s book F’em!: Goo Goo, Gaga, and Some Thoughts on Balls.

53 mean that feminism itself has died or gone away. Instead, feminism continues to evolve in more subtle ways than during the periods of outspoken activism that denote specific waves. As such, the fourth wave may not be providing any new innovations or groundbreaking ideologies that would satisfy Stoller, but its application has been shaped by and is actively shaping politics and society of this day in new ways that are not identical with prior waves. Because of changes in politics and society, while tenets of the second wave have made a resurgence, they are being molded and shaped for more appropriate application in a new era and for a new wave. With this re-application of ideas from the second wave, it is then understandable why Stoller may not observe a new wave.

Despite Stoller’s downplaying of technology and social media, it has been repeatedly observed to be a key component in the evolution of the fourth wave

(Chamberlain; Cochrane; Munro). The dissemination of ideas and organization of events through social media and other online platforms has accompanied what Cochrane asserts to be a large “surge in activism and interest” in this current fourth wave era (Chamberlain

2). This is observable in movements around the world for numerous causes, and not limited to feminism: the Black Lives Matter (#BLM) movement protesting racial profiling and police brutality in the United States; the #TimesUp and #MeToo movements around the world seeking to end sexual assault and sexual harassment; and

#GirlLove, a movement conceived by comedian and YouTube personality Lilly Singh

(IISuperwomanII) to promote positivity between women, emphasizing women should compliment and support each other rather than insult each other out of spite or competition. While the fourth wave may not be providing any groundbreaking ideologies,

54 the application of social media to actively shape the politics of the movement is evident.

And the movement is helping establish an impetus for political change.

In addition to a surge in activism for the fourth wave, Munro sees the increased use of social media enabling what she labels “call-out” culture (Munro). She describes this as the use of social media to attack or challenge sexism and misogyny when witnessed online, which “is indicative of the continuing influence of the third wave, with its focus on micropolitics” (Munro). “Micropolitics” is Munro’s term to identify that the concerns of the third wave were focused on the individual instead of the collective.

“Micro” simply refers to the self, the personal focus of the concern, rather than the collectivized imperative of the second wave. But while Munro asserts the focus on micropolitics is a continuation of the third wave, there is a significant difference in the fourth wave’s application of micropolitics. For example, rather than defend oneself from online attacks, there is an increase in defending others who have been attacked. Instead of focusing on “me” as the individual, the fourth wave professes “we” are individuals who can aid each other. This is not to create a “we”-“me” dichotomy as has sometimes been done to differentiate second and third waves of feminism; instead, it asserts that individuals can maintain individuality while simultaneously supporting a collective.

When the “call-out” culture of the fourth wave harnesses social media and activism, the “call-out” no longer focuses solely on the individual, but instead applies to the larger group of women who have similar shared experiences regarding sexism and misogyny. The concept is combining the individualism of third wave feminism with the collective mindset of second wave feminism to declare, “Yes, you as an individual have experienced this bad thing or received this positive emancipation. I recognize that, and I

55 support you. Now, let us make sure all other women have the same support.” Activists of the fourth wave have managed to politicize individual emancipation, understanding that members of a collective are still individuals with personal experiences and opinions.

They can be individuals and make up a collective. This was something politics of the third wave had not accounted for; critics of the third wave claim the focus on micropolitics had been depoliticizing (Munro).

As partially evidenced by the use of social media to defend others, Chamberlain and Munro observe that fourth wave feminism is also “especially concerned with giving voice to those who occupy the margins of the movement,” lifting up those who otherwise cannot be heard (Chamberlain 4). This supports Cochrane’s assessment that particular attention is paid to rape culture, as well as intersectionality and inclusion. Victims of sexual assault and harassment often perceive shame for accusing their assaulters, and instead choose to hide these attacks for years. Their silence pushes them to the fringes of the movement, allowing other concerns to become more prominent. But following the events of the Harvey Weinstein scandal in October 2017, which rocked the Hollywood film industry, women have begun coming forward with their own stories of assault in solidarity with each other. Women and male allies are lifting up each other and defending one another.

This inclusion of victims of rape and sexual harassment is accompanied by a sense of increased intersectionality. While studies of the third wave generally cite increased intersectionality as a primary ideology, critics of the wave such as bell hooks argue that the wave’s focus on individuality emphasized white, middle-class women. hooks observes, “Individual black women who were active in the movement from its

56 inception for the most part stayed in their place. When the feminist movement began racial integration was still rare. Many black people were learning how to interact with whites on the basis of being peers for the first time in their lives. No wonder individual black women choosing feminism were reluctant to introduce their awareness of race”

(hooks 56). This can be observed of Zoë in Firefly, who is a black woman, but never expresses herself as such.

One of the criticisms of series created by Joss Whedon is that they are largely, if not exclusively, white. When there is a person of color they are often depicted as a stereotype – thug or criminal – or their ethnicity is ignored. For example, the character

Charles Gunn from Angel is a young black man who is presented as a street thug running a gang in . Or, in Buffy, when Buffy is briefly killed at the end of the first season, a new Slayer is introduced to fight alongside Buffy, an Afro-Caribbean girl named Kendra. Kendra appears in only a handful of episodes before being killed and replaced by another white Slayer, Faith Lehane, during the third season. Unlike Charles

Gunn and Kendra who are depicted as stereotypes of black individuals and black culture,

Zoë never presents herself as an individual who distinguishes white women from women of color. It could be argued that because of the futuristic setting of the series, distinctions between ethnicities and types of feminism are no longer needed: a future which no longer experiences racial tensions or expresses systemic differences. More likely though,

Whedon was not aware of diversifying feminism in his series, and Gina Torres, the actress who portrayed Zoë, may not have felt the power or ability to suggest such a change to the character. As hooks observed, black women were reluctant to introduce their awareness of race. This reluctance could have been exacerbated by working in the

57 film industry, which has historically been hierarchical as it catered to the power of white men who could end someone’s career if they so chose. hooks’ argument advocates for the inclusion of women of color and others who have been marginalized.

Chamberlain insists that while critics such as hooks call attention to the third wave’s omission of women of color, intersectionality within feminism is an ongoing ideology. Chamberlain writes, “While intersectionality could be considered a key methodology of the third wave of feminism, it would seem that the openness of feminism is a process that must continue and progress, both within and without the wave narrative.

By this I mean that each new wave might not herald a period of increased intersectionality, but rather that feminism is becoming more intersectional as time passes”

(Chamberlain 4). While the third wave might not have been as intersectional as hooks would have liked, it was more so than the second wave. And as the fourth continues to mature and evolve, it is becoming increasingly intersectional.

This increased intersectionality can be observed in the progression of Whedon’s series: Buffy killed off the black character who was introduced; Angel retained Charles

Gunn in the principal cast for the entire series, but largely stereotyped him; Firefly featured Zoë and as part of the main cast, while being set in a future that envisions a blending of Chinese and American cultures; and Dollhouse had a number of people of color in the main cast. In an interview for The Hollywood Reporter celebrating the 20th anniversary of Buffy, Whedon admits “I was definitely unaware of how things affected people, how representation was lacking …. I didn’t make a point of hiring female directors. I didn’t make a point of hiring people of color. I didn’t think it through past where I had gotten” (O'Connell). But, as Chamberlain observes of intersectionality

58 over time, Whedon recognized his mistakes and is attempting to remedy them. At the

2018 MIPCOM (Marché International des Programmes de Communication –

International Market of Communications Programmes), Wilhelmina Ross, a representative for Creative Artists Agency (CAA), described how CAA had recently assembled a diverse writer’s room for Whedon’s upcoming HBO series The Nevers. Ross explained, “[Joss] felt he couldn’t speak for these female characters – and that he had to have that perspective in there” (Goodfellow). Whedon’s actions of hiring a more diverse and inclusive writer’s room represent just a small step in increased intersectionality in the fourth wave of feminism.

Even while acknowledging Chamberlain’s assessment that fourth wave feminism is difficult to define succinctly, there are clear ideological tenets that are identifiable. A strong push-back to rape culture, sexual assault and harassment; facilitation of communication across social media and the internet, as well as the ability to “call-out” those who are offensive; broader inclusion of those not represented by previous waves of feminism, mainly ethnic minorities and those of different economic status; and helping those who have been relegated to the margins of society. As Munro observes,

“Contemporary feminism is characterised by its diversity of purpose” (Munro). This may be a clue why ideas and concerns common to the fourth wave can be seen in the Firefly series. The character of Zoë does not champion or represent one specific thing or idea, but instead embodies a multitude of ideals and concerns.

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3.2 “In a time of war, we would’ve never left a man stranded.”

While Firefly could not have fully predicted the specifics of the birth and development of the fourth wave of feminism, especially the utilization of social media to organize groups and disperse ideas,17 the series does reflect the diversity of purpose suggested by Munro, as well as the desire to aid the marginalized. This is particularly true of Zoë, who may not lead the narrative as the central protagonist, but still advocates for helping others at every opportunity she can. This is largely what distinguishes her from previous incarnations of the warrior woman and allows her to be categorized as the

“volunteer woman,” which I propose as an addition to Tasker’s typology.

Since the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, there appear to be two additional types that could be added to Tasker’s typology of warrior women: the volunteer woman, who is characterized by Zoë and will be discussed throughout this section, and the survivalist woman. I mention the survivalist woman because she represents a clear departure in how warrior women have evolved and largely been constructed in the 21st century. But despite the evolution and popularity of this type of character, I do not wish to dwell on her and will simply provide a brief summation. The survivalist woman is primarily defined by her setting, the time and situation in which she lives, and the motivation of her aggression. Likely, she lives in a post-apocalyptic world in which she has developed skills and abilities to defend herself and others. She is not a pre-ordained

Chosen One meant to stop the end of the world; rather, she is someone who has already witnessed the apocalypse and is now struggling to survive. They fight out of necessity

17 Although experiments with social media had been around for years, the first “mainstream” social media platforms did not exist prior to the development of Firefly. Friendster launched in 2002, the same year Firefly aired, and Myspace launched the following year, 2003. The two largest mainstream platforms, Facebook and , did not launch until 2004 and 2006 respectively.

60 more than anything else. Some notable examples of the survivalist woman include

Michonne from The Walking Dead (2010-present), Maggie from Falling Skies, Mikasa

Ackermann from Attack on Titan (2013-present), Clarke Griffin and Octavia Blake from

The 100 (2014-present), and Eretria from The Shannara Chronicles (2016-2017).

While the survivalist woman has a relatively simplistic description, the volunteer woman, like the fourth wave of feminism, is a much more multifaceted character. Her aggression, by which Heinecken and Tasker distinguish types of warrior women, is explained through practical or professional means. She is not a Chosen One gifted with superhuman power, nor is she trained by a male mentor whose skills are legendary or of exceptionally high renown in the established universe. Likely, the volunteer woman is a simple soldier, one who is highly proficient and well respected, but does not require a lofty backstory to qualify her abilities. Unlike many warrior women who are responding to a mythical call-to-action or have been designated a pre-ordained Chosen One, the volunteer woman simply feels an emotional or existential duty or obligation to the cause for which she fights. She has not been dragged kicking and screaming into the fight; instead, she steps up, willfully engaging in the conflict based on moral or existential motivations. Additionally, she is not defined by her relations to men or authority. While the volunteer woman may have male superiors through her profession, or a romantic interest of some kind, she is never subservient to them on the basis on sex. She is aware of her own worth and power, and she does not allow male dominance simply out of societal obligation. The volunteer woman exists in a world that is largely egalitarian, though not necessarily less gendered as Sarah Conly observes of BSG. More than likely, the volunteer woman is depicted as an adult, unconcerned by the melodramatic

61 tendencies of children or adolescents, and thereby less obsessed with narcissistic goals of self-gain, personal or professional.

Both new types appear to have been born, in part, as a result of 9/11, reflecting different cultural responses to the attacks themselves. The survivalist demonstrates the reformulated alien invasion trope suggested by David M. Higgins: “to address an environment of spectacular and indeterminate omnicrisis that can imaginatively encompass threats ranging from terrorism and biological attack to natural disasters”

(Higgins 45). The survivalist is reacting to whatever indeterminate omnicrisis she is presented with – alien invasion, zombie apocalypse, nuclear apocalypse, etc. – doing what is required of her to live. In contrast, the volunteer is willing to step up, offering her services and skills to the cause with which she is presented. She feels a moral or existential obligation to do more than just live for the sake of living, choosing to fight for a clear and noble (to them) goal. The decision by the volunteer mirrors the displays of

American patriotism following the attacks, in which people put aside their individual needs to fight for the security of the United States. This includes everything from first responders to the site of the World Trade Centers in New York City to the influx of individuals enlisting in the military prior to the invasions of the Middle East.

Although it is characteristic of warrior women to help or aid others, many of them have this responsibility thrust upon them by some greater power or a pre-destined call-to- action as the Chosen One. Initially, they are not willing participants in their destiny, accepting their fate and obligation only later. Naturally, this is not a definitive, all- encompassing observation for warrior women. But it is a trend that was noticeable in the

1990s and early 2000s. For example, Buffy Summers spends the pilot episode of Buffy

62 avoiding her responsibilities as the Slayer and just trying to be a normal teenager. Xena begins as a warlord in Hercules, only attempting to atone for her sins after being convinced to do so by Hercules. Max Guevara/X5-452 from Dark Angel has spent most of her life on the run from a covert military organization, avoiding drawing attention to herself until the male romantic interest convinces her to help others, and even then does not fully accept her destiny as a hero and champion until the series’ cliffhanger finale.

These are reluctant heroes, not willing participants exerting their own agency to shape the world. Likewise, the survivalist woman, who is reluctantly responding to the indeterminate omnicrisis or apocalyptic event that has ravaged their world.

The volunteer woman is differently motivated. She defies Philip Green’s assertion that the warrior woman is an unrelatable and narcissistic individual who defeats galvanizing political momentum because she is a mythic Chosen One. The volunteer woman is not a Chosen One; she is widely relatable and personable, almost an every- woman figure that many people can identify with to some degree. While she may not have the charisma, celebrity, or title of Messiah to draw the masses to her, the volunteer woman is also not so far removed from societal norms to inhibit relatability to the average person. She represents the people, not some exclusive or elite other.

Additionally, the largely egalitarian setting in which the volunteer woman exists disrupts

Green’s caveat that the warrior woman, as the Chosen One, can only hope to achieve equality to men. These women are already equal to men based on their own merits or societal norms; they do not require the aid of mythic powers. Although they may not galvanize a political movement, it is not because they are unrelatable; their volunteer actions also cannot be read as selfish. By demonstrating her own agency in the decision

63 to help others, the volunteer woman is genuinely invested in the betterment of society without requiring a prophetic mandate.

Unlike her reluctant predecessors and contemporaries, Zoë is actively and purposefully engaged in the struggles of those around her. She joined the military of her own volition, not through a conscription or draft, and certainly not from some obligation to follow Mal into battle. The audience is never informed when the pair met and became friends, whether it was prior to the war or during basic training. Zoë was compelled to fight for what she felt was right, planetary independence from the Alliance government.

It is a cause about which she and Mal are expressly vocal. During “,” Zoë and Mal communicate their grievances towards the Alliance, as Mal states “That sounds like the Alliance. Unite all the planets under one rule so that everybody can be interfered with or ignored equally” (1.02). The pair assert that the Alliance forces its citizens to conform and abide by certain rules, laws, or practices, but then offers no aid to those struggling to survive or adapt under the policies. In contrast, Zoë and Mal feel the need to help those the government has left behind or ignored.

In “The Train Job,” the crew of Serenity is hired to rob a train, accepting the job without specific knowledge of what the cargo is. Mal makes a point to acknowledge that, as a business practice, he generally aims to let the client maintain their privacy regarding whatever cargo they steal and transport. The crew successfully steals the cargo, but Zoë and Mal fail to get off the train and are detained and questioned by the local sheriff when they arrive at the next stop. It is revealed that the crew had stolen a shipment of medicine used to treat a degenerative disease common to the nearby mining town, and that the

Alliance government would not be providing a replacement shipment nor helping

64 investigate the theft. After eventually being released from the sheriff’s custody, Zoë and

Mal return to Serenity, where Wash informs them the ship is ready to depart. Mal responds, “We’re not going,” and Zoë adds, “We’re bringin’ the cargo back.” They understand that while the crew will make no money from the job, the people of the town need the medicine far more. Mal and Zoë would prefer to be broke and starving than to take from those in need.

Providing aid for little or no reward is a recurring motif throughout the series. In

“Serenity,” after salvaging protein-based foods from a derelict ship, the crew sells them to a border moon that could use the supplies. “Our Mrs. Reynolds” begins with the crew stopping a group of bandits who continuously rob supply shipments being sent to a settlement on a border planet. The settlement had hired them for protection but lacked the funds to properly pay for services. In lieu of money, the settlement throws the crew a party and provides them with food and supplies. In “,” they accept a job to steal from a hospital on a central planet, but only after determining the medicine they procure will benefit those on border planets. They also confirm that the hospital will be restocked within hours because it is an official Alliance facility. No one in need will miss the medicine. In “Heart of Gold,” the crew provides protection for a brothel with no guarantee of any form of payment. While Mal has the final say in what jobs they take,

Zoë is always a participant in the decision-making process and never afraid to voice her own concerns. And Mal will always acknowledge her when he is wrong. For example, in

“Serenity,” Mal and Zoë have bad history with the buyer for the smuggled food supplies.

Zoë cautions against doing business with this buyer because Mal was shot during their last encounter. When the exchange goes poorly, resulting in a gun fight, Mal says to Zoë,

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“Well, you were right about this being a bad idea” (1.01). To which Zoë responds with a simple, “Thanks for sayin’, sir.”

Even though Zoë’s strong rapport with Mal is evident, she will not hesitate to call him out if he is rude or offensive. In the episode “Shindig,” most of the crew are wandering around the shipyard where they have docked to resupply Serenity. Kaylee, the ship’s mechanic, stops to admire elegant ballgowns in a shop window. Despite Mal’s impatience to continue with their errands, the rest of the crew follows suit in the window shopping. When Zoë describes her ideal dress compared to the ones they are admiring, –

“If I’m going to wear a dress, I’d wear something with some slink” – Jayne, the hired muscle, attempts to objectify her by saying he would help buy her a slinky dress to wear.

Zoë’s simple response is “I can hurt you,” which immediately silences Jayne (1.04). By this point, Mal has lost patience with Kaylee, who is mesmerized by an especially frilly, pink dress in the window. In frustration, Mal berates Kaylee, saying she would look ridiculous wearing such a dress in the greasy engine room, asking what possible purpose she would have for it. With Kaylee visibly upset, Zoë glares at Mal and says “See ya on the ship, Captain.” She then leads Kaylee away with Wash, leaving Mal to contemplate his words and the situation. Not only did Zoë defend Kaylee, she also took away Mal’s audience. Jayne is the only crewmember left standing with Mal. But Jayne does not always understand the intricacies of social cues and can often be crude and sexist in his remarks. So, when Jayne asks, “Is she mad or something?” regarding the exchange with

Zoë and Kaylee, Mal can only shake his head in exasperation. Mal does not want Jayne to be the only one on his side in that instance, and Zoë knew it.

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At this point it may appear as though I have run into the same problem as

Heinecken in analyzing warrior women: that the woman is always reliant on others to define her, and those others are generally men. Unlike other warrior women who rely on men for some form of approval or instruction – Hercules convinced Xena to repent for her past transgressions and Giles trained Buffy as well as deployed her on missions – Zoë works with the rest of the crew out of necessity and practicality, and freely. There are nine people living aboard Serenity, after all. It would be hubristic and impractical for Zoë and Mal to rely exclusively on their own abilities as opposed to utilizing the skills and abilities of the rest of the crew. While the influence of others can be read as patronizing for other warrior women, based on Heinecken’s observations, Zoë understands the benefits of working as a team and delegating tasks based on individual skills and abilities.

Characters like Mal and Wash rely on Zoë, just as much as she relies on them.

Heinecken notes that while the female hero requires the aid of friends to fight with her, the male hero is generally victorious on his own. For example, John McClane from Die Hard (1988) is trying to rescue his wife from the terrorist organization that has taken over her company’s building. McClane is aided by Sgt. Al Powell, a police officer who called the FBI to cordon off the building and prevent the terrorists from escaping.

Inside the building, however, McClane successfully saves his wife, her coworkers, and defeats the entire terrorist organization by himself. Unlike McClane, Mal is shown to require the aid of Zoë and the other women of Firefly on multiple occasions. In “War

Stories,” Mal and Wash are captured by Niska, a Mafioso-type villain on whom they had previously reneged on a deal in “The Train Job.” Niska had hired them to rob the train, and then never received his merchandise. The pair are brutally tortured by Niska before

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Zoë organizes the crew for a rescue operation. Mal does not concoct some grand, hero rescue to free himself and Wash, though he does manage to free himself from his restraints and attack Niska and one of Niska’s henchmen during the confusion caused by

Zoë’s rescue mission. When Mal appears to be losing his fight to the henchman, he begs

Zoë’s intervention to kill his opponent.

The one time Mal completes a solo, heroic job by himself is in the film sequel,

Serenity (2005). During the final battle, Mal leaves the crew behind to upload a data- stream to be broadcast around the universe. To complete the task, he must defeat his pursuer, a man simply referred to as The Operative, in one-on-one combat. But while Mal is doing this, he leaves Zoë in charge of fortifying and defending their position against the larger armies that are pursuing them. She commands and organizes the crew in preparation. Even when Mal is functioning as the individual hero, he still depends on

Zoë, requiring her knowledge and skills.

Similarly, Heinecken notes that normally the romantic interest does not need rescue and is often a better fighter than the female hero. Again, Zoë and her relationship with Wash defy this. Early in the “War Stories” episode, Wash is trying to convince Mal he is just as useful in a firefight as Zoë, saying “Hey, I’ve been in a firefight before! …

Well, I was in a fire. Actually, I was fired from a fry-cook opportunity … I can handle myself” (1.10). Wash is not a fighter, and he knows it. He appears to be trying to convince himself just as much as Mal. When Mal and Wash are captured by Niska, they are tortured. Mal has presumably received some sort of training or experience from his time as a soldier to better withstand torture; Wash has not. During the scenes of torture, the two bicker and shout at each other, continuing an argument that persisted throughout

68 the episode. After Wash loses consciousness, Mal attempts to further provoke the argument by shouting louder.

Eventually, Zoë arrives and pays a ransom to free the pair, whom she refers to as

“[her] men,” having assumed the interim role of captain for the duration of the rescue.

But Niska has other plans. Zoë hands Niska a pouch of money, explaining it is five times the amount from “The Trained Job,” when the crew had previously reneged on their deal.

The mafioso villain puts on a show, theatrically observing that based on that amount, the pair must be worth quite a lot to Zoë, but that to him, their pain and suffering are still worth more. In his feigned generosity, Niska offers, “I think this is not enough. Not enough for two. But sufficient, perhaps, for one. Ahhh, you now have--.” Before he can finish, Zoë interjects, “Him,” pointing at Wash. Niska is speechless, but Zoë continues,

“I’m sorry. You were going to ask me to choose, right? Do you wanna finish?” Zoë’s decision demonstrates a certain amount of practicality. She understands that, through the military, Mal has received some degree of training to better withstand torture, whereas

Wash has had no such training. Mal is more likely to survive in a situation where he is temporarily left behind. Additionally, Zoë’s decision reflects her code as a volunteer soldier. For all intents and purposes, Wash is a civilian, not a soldier. He joined the crew of smugglers as a pilot and get-away man, not a warrior. Wash represents the individual most in need, and it is Zoë’s responsibility to rescue him.

When Zoë finally leads the armed extraction to save Mal from Niska, she takes point as the first to enter and lead the assault. She is the most capable fighter and a competent strategist, so her leading the charge is the most logical decision. Following behind her is Jayne, whose abilities as a fighter are comparable to Zoë’s, but who lacks

69 the same leadership and strategic know-how to command. While the rest of the crew remains aboard Serenity to defend the ship, Zoë assigns Wash to be the third individual with her and Jayne, protecting their rear in the event enemy combatants approach from behind. She understands who is best to lead the charge, and still trusts Wash to cover her blind spot. Despite no thrilling heroics to liberate Wash, Zoë still rescued both men who needed help. She paid a ransom for Wash and led an armed extraction for Mal. Unlike the pattern that Heinecken observes of the male romantic interest being a better fighter, Zoë is clearly more lethal than Wash, whom she also rescued.

Not only is Zoë a better and more capable fighter than Wash, she is never depicted as less than Mal. They are demonstrated to have highly different styles of fighting and combat. In “,” there is a flashback to a battle in which Mal and

Zoë fought during the War for Independence. Zoë saves another member of their regiment, a man named Tracey, after silently maneuvering the battlefield to assassinate an enemy soldier. Tracey comments that he did not even know Zoë was out there moving about, to which she responds, “First rule of battle, little one. Don’t ever let them know where you are” (1.12). Immediately after which Mal runs through the battlefield yelling,

“I’m right here! I’m right here! Come on!” while firing his weapon in the enemy direction, having determined, “They don’t like it when you shoot at them.” His logic is that if the enemy knows where you are, they will avoid that spot. Whereas Mal is brash and aggressive in his strategies, Zoë is deliberate and tactical. Neither one is shown to be superior, simply different.

At other times, Zoë openly mocks Mal’s abilities as a fighter. In the episode

“Shindig,” Mal offends a wealthy young lord, inadvertently challenging the man to a duel

70 by sword. When the crew is informed of Mal’s faux pas, they are concerned for his life but believe he will be fine. The ship’s doctor, Simon, suggests “Captain’s a good fighter; he must know how to handle a sword.” Zoë jokingly responds, “I think he knows which end to hold.” She never denies that Mal is a capable and revered soldier and fighter. At the same time, however, Zoë has no problem bringing attention to Mal’s flaws or shortcomings. While he is excellent with a pistol, there is no reason to believe he would be just as proficient with a sword. To assume so would have created a deus ex machina moment that establishes Mal as a perfect fighter in every respect.

In addition to demonstrating Zoë’s abilities as a warrior, Joss Whedon also took the opportunity to visually objectify Mal more frequently than Zoë. In “Shindig,” while

Mal is off offending the young lord, Zoë is left in command of Serenity. With half the crew off ship, Zoë and Wash use the opportunity to have sex in their room undisturbed.

But the camera does not cut to them until after they have finished. Instead of creating an erotic love scene, both characters remain under a blanket the whole time. And rather than speaking romantically to each other, they spend the entire scene joking about how if Zoë were to fall asleep while acting as captain, Jayne could come and lead a mutiny against her. This ridiculous hypothetical is punctuated by Wash reciting a fake obituary: “Here lies my beloved Zoë, my autumn flower, somewhat less attractive now she’s all corpsified and gross.” Laughing, Zoë proceeds to hit Wash with a pillow as the camera cuts away.

Similarly, when Mal is objectified it is also for a joke. In the episode “,” the crew partners with an unscrupulous associate whom they do not trust. Once the job is completed, the associate double-crosses Mal, leaving him naked and stranded in the

71 desert. His butt is exposed to the camera while he yells profanities at the associate as they fly away in a shuttle. In “Our Mrs. Reynolds,” the episode begins with the crew dispatching a group of bandits that had been raiding a small settlement. To spring an ambush on the bandits, Mal, Zoë, and Jayne go undercover as migrants to the settlement, making their way in a horse-drawn wagon. While Jayne sits in the front dressed as a cowboy, Mal sits next to him wearing a dress and floral bonnet pretending to be the wife.

After pretending to bicker about the attractiveness of Mal as a wife, a ploy used to distract the bandits, he and Jayne draw their pistols on the bandits while Zoë emerges from the wagon with her rifle aimed. The scene is played for laughs, as Mal says to the bandits, “I swear by my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you” (1.06). In the following scene, when Mal is asked why he was the one wearing the dress instead of Zoë, his response is that, tactically, he needed her in the wagon.

Based on this analysis, Zoë represents the prototypical volunteer woman, an evolution of the warrior woman that reflects ideas and concerns identifiable to the fourth wave of feminism. Unlike many of her predecessors who can be identified as reluctant heroes based on their designations as Chosen Ones, Zoë steps up, willingly going into battle to help others and is consistently seeking to aid those in need. She consciously helps those who are marginalized and neglected. Her time as a soldier provided her with the skills and training to fight as an efficient and dangerous warrior. Her desire to fight for those in need and help those most vulnerable demonstrates a selflessness all her own.

While she fights for certain goals in which she may also benefit, her personal gains are generally a biproduct of the larger achievement or goal. She fought in the War for

Independence based on what she believed was best for people of the universe, not for

72 what would help her the most as an individual. Zoë’s personal benefits are always secondary and thereby not read as the narcissistic motives that Philip Green observes of other warrior women.

Despite constant engagement with male figures in the series, Zoë is never reliant on them for definition. Dawn Heinecken has observed the common approach, or nearly required methodology, that warrior women be reliant on men for definition and to establish their sense of worth. Whether these comparisons come from a rival warrior, authority figure, or love interest, the warrior woman has always had her abilities and aptitude measured by her relations to men. Zoë, however, is able to stand on her own principles and establish herself as an independent person capable of expressing her own agency. And while she may require the aid of men on occasion, it is out of practicality rather than obligation. Zoë understands when she needs help or when someone else is better suited for a job, as do the men in the series when they rely on her. Similarly, she is never presented as the damsel in distress requiring the aid of male heroics, and is instead the one to frequently rescue the male characters, including her husband.

By shedding the requirement that the warrior woman generally is a Chosen One,

Zoë establishes herself as a fighter of the people, leaving behind the narcissistic motivations Green observes as common to the trope. This also allows the character to be read as a reflection of new feminist values, ones more common to the fourth wave. Zoë clearly demonstrates a sense of individuality, desiring autonomy from the Alliance and asserting her own identity among the crew. This desire and tendency to express individuality and personal liberation is reminiscent of many values associated with feminist thought of the third wave. But this desire for personal liberation is never at the

73 expense of a mission or a job, for Zoë always understands the importance of a cohesive team working together. She understands the advantages of working as a group, as a collective unit fighting for the benefit of everyone, something more in line with ideologies of the second wave. At the same time, the basis for her moral philosophy revolves around providing aid to those in need, allowing their voices to be heard when they are otherwise silenced. Even when unsuccessful in lifting up the voices of others,

Zoë continues to help out of what she perceives as a moral obligation to do the right thing. These complex characteristics of Zoë reflect the evolving values of feminist thought through the various waves of feminism. She exhibits ideas common to both the second and third waves, while simultaneously combining them with newer concerns of the fourth wave.

Perhaps Zoë is best encapsulated through her depiction in “The Message.” In this episode, Zoë and Mal receive a large package in the mail; it is revealed to contain the corpse of their former comrade Tracey. In an audio recording accompanying the corpse,

Tracey requests a favor from his old war buddies: deliver his body to his homeworld to be buried in the family plot. It is later revealed that Tracey is still alive, having only taken a drug to slow his vital organs and make him appear dead. This ruse was meant to deceive the men Tracey had stolen from, allowing his escape.

In his desperation to escape the men after him, Tracey threatens the crew of

Serenity at gunpoint, fearing they might exchange him for their freedom. When Tracey makes to shoot Wash, Zoë fires back, hitting him square in the chest. After stumbling away, Tracey eventually collapses in the cargo bay, sharing an intimate moment with both Zoë and Mal. Together, they recollect their time in the war, repeating a phrase the

74 soldiers used to say in moments of need or comradery. Tracey begins, “When you can’t run, you crawl. And when you can’t crawl - when you can’t do that,” and Zoë finishes for him, “You find someone to carry you.” When Tracey’s recording plays earlier in the episode, he ends with this phrase, though he still does not say Zoë’s words at the end, instead leaving off at “well, you know the rest.”

It is a simple phrase, but one that lends weight to the moral and ethical code of conduct by which Zoë abides. While the phrase only appears in “The Message,” it embodies Zoë’s desire and need to help others. It acts almost as an oath taken by

Browncoat soldiers, a constant reminder of what they were fighting for and why they took up arms to begin with. The Independents wanted to provide a voice for the forgotten or abandoned, those left behind and marginalized. But the oath continues after the war.

When Tracey was in need, he knew that Mal and Zoë were the two most likely to help.

Even after the war, the phrase represents a moral and existential belief by Mal and Zoë to provide aid. Zoë is the person to carry you, to volunteer for the struggle and help. The phrase encompasses these qualities, contextually asserting her beliefs as a warrior woman.

Despite a comparatively short time on television, Zoë became the blueprint for new iterations of the warrior woman. Her characterization as the stoic, selfless hero has facilitated the emergence of numerous volunteer women in the 21st century, furthering the evolution of the warrior woman trope. Zoë’s influence can be observed in characters such as Garnet from Steven Universe (2013-present), Hera Syndulla and Sabine Wren from

Star Wars: Rebels, Two from Dark Matter, Naomi Nagata and Roberta “Bobbie” W.

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Draper from The Expanse, and Quinn Ergon/Nightfall from Final Space.18 And while it may have taken 11 years after the cancellation of Firefly for these characters to begin to appear, the similarities to and influence from Zoë’s characterization as the volunteer woman are unmistakable.

18 Gina Torres (Zoë) and Alan Tudyk (Wash) both voice various characters in Final Space.

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Chapter 4: “She’s tore up plenty, but she’ll fly true”: Conclusion

4.1 Someone to Carry You

While it may be debated when the third wave of feminism concluded, I believe it is evident that the wave was disrupted in the United States as a result of the September

11, 2001 terrorist attacks. Whether or not the wave itself formally ended or was simply disjointed may require further research into the specificities of the wave narrative; however, such an approach to feminist research is already problematic, as it conflates theoretical wave constructs with more defined historical periods. At the very least, there was an observable shift in the public awareness and immediacy of goals in feminist thought and feminist activism following 9/11. This is noticeable in broadcast media in the

United States, as a biproduct of the attacks was a shift in narrative media away from stories involving themes of self-discovery or personal liberation that reflect values of the third wave, and toward ways of defending the American way of life. Stories became more about defending the idea or notion of individuality and personal liberty than exploring the thematic elements themselves.

In terms of science fiction, this generally reflected what David M. Higgins described as defending from an indeterminate omnicrisis; protecting the Earth from alien invasions or the increasingly popular zombie apocalypse narrative meant to metaphorically represent a multitude of crises; defending from an assault on the beliefs that were meant to symbolize America. Such programs explored the resiliency of humankind, whose America-inspired beliefs came to represent the planet as a whole in the fictional worlds. They espoused maintaining liberty and individual freedoms while never actually exploring such themes. Protecting these rights or the idea of these

77 freedoms appeared to be sufficient. Like many programs of the period, Firefly explored ideas of protecting personal freedoms, yet also proved to be highly innovative in its depictions of female characters. Series creator, Joss Whedon, is a self-professed feminist, always championing women in his programs. While Firefly does not overtly champion women and feminist characters the same way his previous program Buffy the Vampire

Slayer did, it is still highly subversive of established tropes and clichés for female characters.

Specifically, Zoë Washburne subverted the expectations for the warrior woman on television, creating an evolution of the trope beyond the analyses of Dawn Heinecken et al. She represents a female hero who was not chosen by some mythic greater power to save the world, but is instead an ordinary person purposefully engaging in a cause she believes is morally right. She fights for the average person, making sure they are not completely forgotten by the Alliance government. It is this willingness, this existential motivation to act that sets Zoë apart from other warrior women who are merely fulfilling an external mandate.

In departing from the classification of Chosen One, Zoë sheds the narcissistic motivations assumed by Green that permeated narrative media from the third wave of feminism. Her goals are never self-oriented, and whatever benefits she may experience are always a secondary biproduct. Her mission during the war and subsequent line of work reflects her desire to maintain autonomy over herself and her life choices. Zoë is not narcissistic in her motivations, but that does not mean she is willing to give up her individuality and ability to act as a unique person. She does not wish to be a generic cog in an undifferentiated collective. Additionally, Zoë already lives in an egalitarian society,

78 so she is not fighting to assume equality to men as Green asserted of previous warrior women. Whereas previous warrior women, within the structure of their narratives, can only hope to achieve equality through their actions, Zoë and the other women of Firefly already live in an egalitarian society. Any advanced skill Zoë possesses or displays does not elevate her social status to equal, rather it establishes her as better or more well-suited for a particular task than her male counterparts.

This amalgamation of aspects from the second and third waves of feminism – maintaining individuality while simultaneously working within a collective – supports

Prudence Chamberlain’s observations of the fourth wave. Certain values and concerns of feminism simply evolve outside the strictures of feminist waves and are observable across multiple waves; recurring motifs, as it were. Zoë demonstrates this amalgamation of individuality and working as a team. She combines both principles with her desire to help the marginalized, which Munro identifies as key to the fourth wave. It is this combination of facets from multiple waves that establishes Zoë as the prototypical volunteer woman, while also complicating readings of her from one specific wave. She reflects values and concerns that have become identifiable to the current fourth wave of feminism, as well as evolved ideologies from prior waves.

Unfortunately, this thesis has only scratched the surface of this area of research, with certain sections remaining problematic or restrictive. For example, despite

Heinecken’s observation that the male action hero can succeed on his own, like John

McClane in Die Hard, I found it difficult and impractical to analyze Zoë in a similar capacity. Moreover, Mal, the male action hero, does not succeed on his own, without his crew. Mal does not stand above or separate from his team of men and women of different

79 backgrounds, skills, and abilities. Like other warrior women, Zoë still maintains close connections to friends and allies in order to achieve a task. Zoë and Mal have a long history from serving together in the War for Independence, naturally interweaving their characters and stories. They rely on each other equally.

It is also impractical to analyze Zoë without her connection to Wash. Their marriage ties them together throughout the series. When Zoë is not with Mal, she has often temporarily assumed command of Serenity, or is with Wash. And when Wash is not with Zoë, it is usually because he is either piloting Serenity or working on an engineering project with Kaylee, the ship’s mechanic. The close relationship between Zoë, Wash, and

Mal subverts the clichéd love-triangle in narrative media. Zoë and Mal have a strictly platonic relationship, but that does not stop Wash from becoming jealous or irritable during the series. In the episode “War Stories,” Wash expresses frustration that Zoë frequently discusses things with Mal before him, her husband, saying “what this marriage needs is one less husband.” The characters themselves are aware of how inseparable they are from one another.

Perhaps it is irresponsible to attempt to isolate Zoë from the rest of the crew for analysis, as is often done with male action heroes. The people with whom we surround ourselves are often a reflection of who we are; they help formulate our very being without necessarily defining us. This is the case with Zoë and the crew of Serenity, who rely equally on one another for support and character development, though not exclusively through male-female relations as is often done in Hollywood narratives. It is the crew as a whole and the various character relationships that help establish each individual.

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Despite the inability to analyze Zoë the same way male action heroes are often analyzed, she still breaks from or complicates many of the norms Heinecken attributes to the warrior woman. She is not reliant on men for definition or approval; she is never in need of rescue as a damsel, and is instead a more competent fighter than her husband; and she utilizes the skills of those around her not out of reluctant reliance, but rather because she understands the practical benefits of working as a unit. Zoë may not stand out as the individual hero meant to save the universe, but neither do any of the men in the series.

There are other questions or ideas I have been unable to address at this time.

Perhaps most notably would be a further exploration of the survivalist woman as an extension of Yvonne Tasker’s typology of warrior women. Many questions arise around this addition. How has the survivalist evolved differently from the volunteer woman? Or, is there a difference in subgenre where they appear? At first glance, it may seem that the survivalist tends to appear more frequently in terrestrial-based narratives, while the volunteer is more common in space operas. The survivalist is responding to a threat that has destroyed or ruined her home, a narrative structure that often lends itself to planetary stories about defending or recapturing Earth. In contrast, the volunteer benefits from the largely egalitarian society that is common to futuristic space operas. This does not mean these characters and stories are mutually exclusive, just ideas that beg further research.

4.2 “Shiny! Let’s be bad guys.”

One additional area of interest left unexplored in my work here, as well as in

Heinecken et al, is the distinction between the warrior woman as a hero versus as a villain. Throughout the presentations and analyses I have used in formulating this thesis, the focus consistently remains on the hero or heroine. They explore how the warrior

81 woman champions the people or fights for the side of “good.” But in doing so the writers largely avoid discussions of the villain and whether or not they fit into the same conventions in terms of characterization or narrative function as does the hero. This prompts questions regarding if or how the villain may differ from the hero, or if such characters can fit into the same typology developed by Tasker and Heinecken.

For example, one villain that is referenced to some degree in the studies I have consulted is Callisto of Cirra from Xena and Hercules. As a child, Callisto witnessed the deaths of her parents and sister at the hands of Xena during a time when Xena was still a vicious warlord. Callisto became all-consumed by rage and ambitions of revenge against

Xena, growing up with the sole-purpose of destroying the titular heroine. As a result,

Callisto’s characterization as a warrior woman is quite different than that of Xena, or other heroes like Buffy or Zoë. She does not fit easily into any of the conventions I have discussed. None of Tasker’s types align with her character. Callisto is not a Mother protecting her children, but an orphaned daughter seeking vengeance for her parents. As

Xena’s foil, she similarly relates to the macho/masculine woman for she still demonstrates behaviors of adolescence. But unlike Xena, or other macho/masculine women, her character is not defined by her relationship to a male authority figure. She is also different from Others. Like Xena, Callisto is highly sexualized in her attire; both women wear sensual, highly revealing, and functionally dubious leather battle armor. But neither one uses their sexuality as a fetishistic form of aggression within the fantasy world.

While Heinecken asserts that the warrior woman is always defined by the men in her life, this is again not true of Callisto. Although Xena killed Callisto’s father, the

82 villain’s rage comes from the deaths of her entire family, not solely the paternal figure.

She also does not have a major love interest that presents as either an authority figure or superior fighter. Her entire existence is defined by the actions of another woman. Further,

Callisto complicates Green’s assessment of the warrior woman. Although her goals are completely self-serving and can be read as narcissistic, Callisto is never striving to fill the role of a Chosen One to achieve equality to men. Like Xena, she is a better fighter than most men who are not already gods or demi-gods – Hercules. But her sole focus is the death of Xena, nothing grander that would elevate her to an upper echelon of perceived male power. Despite complicating Green’s assessment, her narcissistic goal of revenge can still be interpreted as a trait of the third wave of feminism, grounding her firmly in that era of feminist thought.

A villain who represents a more recent development of the warrior woman in a post-9/11 era is Kuvira from the animated series The Legend of Korra (2012-2014), a sequel series to the acclaimed the Last Airbender (2005-2008). When Kuvira is first introduced, she is an ally of the main protagonist. The audience is informed that as a child Kuvira ran away from home and was later raised by the matriarchal leader of a semi-autonomous nation-state. Growing up, she rose through the ranks of the nation- state’s military. Well-regarded for her leadership skills, Kuvira was entrusted the task of stabilizing the continent where she lives when the larger kingdom of which they are a part is thrown into chaos after an attempted coup resulted in the death of the monarch.

But Kuvira exceeds the parameters of her mission. After successfully reuniting the kingdom, she rejects the attempted reestablishment of the monarchy, declaring herself a dictator with the intent of conquering other parts of the continent.

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While the central protagonist, Korra, represents Tasker’s type of the macho/masculine woman, Kuvira is not so easy to define. Given the point in her life when first introduced, it is unclear what her relationship was with either of her biological parents prior to running away. Like Callisto, she is an orphan; unlike Callisto, Kuvira was later raised in a society with an identifiable matriarch. All of the primary influencers in her life are women, and she looks up to no male authority figures. Kuvira is also not identifiable as a mother and has no children to protect that could motivate her aggression.

And she is never shown to use her sexuality as a form of aggression, like the Others of

Tasker’s typology. Whereas Callisto and Xena wear highly suggestive clothing that could mistake them as Tasker’s Others, Kuvira is almost exclusively shown wearing a military uniform or metal battle armor. Even the romantic relationship Kuvira maintains does not rely on sexuality or physical attraction; rather, her fiancé appears to be infatuated by her power and ambition. Instead of manipulating her sexuality for aggression, she plays on her betrothed’s ambition for power and loyalty.

In many ways, Kuvira actually represents a form of the volunteer woman who has taken the cause or concept they fight for to a perverse extreme. Kuvira came to power because the matriarch to whom she had devoted herself did not seek to help restore order after the attempted coup. She volunteered because she recognized the chaos in her part of the world and also because she perceived her mentor as too weak to accept the duty. Like

Zoë, Kuvira is a soldier with a significant military background. She volunteered for a cause she believed in: unifying a fractured nation; notably contrary to Zoë’s role in the

War for Independence. But in unifying the kingdom, she came to recognize how problematic the previously reigning monarchy had been. Kuvira took it upon herself to

84 fix the problems left behind, eventually determining a totalitarian state was the optimum solution. Though it became distorted, her initial desire was to help people, an important value of fourth wave feminism. In addition, like Zoë, Kuvira is shown to have a significant other whom she is never defined by or reliant upon. Instead, he is shown to be reliant and almost subservient to her.

One potential problem with this line of research would be the lack of warrior women villains in space opera, the subgenre itself having allowed Zoë to stand apart and be highly influential. There are plenty of female villains within televised space opera – the Borg Queen from Star Trek: Voyager, Hathor and Nirrti from SG-1, Saffron from

Firefly, and Number Six and Number Three from BSG – but they generally rely on cunning and duplicitous means of villainy as opposed to traits that would classify them as a warrior. One of the few female villains I have found who can be defined as a warrior woman in a more “traditional” sense is Asajj Ventress from the animated Star Wars: The

Clone Wars series (2008-present).19 A practitioner of the Dark side of the Force, Asajj

Ventress is the disciple of a Sith Lord and frequently does battle with the Jedi heroes.

Ventress’s Sith mentor is male, though he later excommunicated and attempted to murder her. Additionally, both of her most frequent foes are male Jedi. While her Sith mentor can be interpreted as the primary male authority figure, she has no singularly recognized mother but was raised by a coven of witches who sold her to a band of criminals.

19 The release dates for Star Wars: The Clone Wars are a bit odd. There was a 2D hand-drawn series created by Genndy Tartakovsky from 2003-2005. Dave Filoni picked up where Tartakovsky left off, released a 3D computer animated series that aired from 2008-2014 and then cancelled. In 2018, Lucasfilm announced that Filoni’s continuation of the series would be receiving one further season that would be released on the upcoming Disney+ streaming platform. As of mid-2019, those episodes have not yet aired.

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Unlike Callisto and Kuvira who have no male authority figures by which they are defined, Asajj Ventress is almost exclusively compared to men. She is practically a servant to her Sith mentor, responding to his every and call. Her subservience throughout the series allows her to be seen as an example of Tasker’s macho/masculine woman. Her entire existence is defined by that relationship to her superior who treats her as little more than a child. When not compared to him, she is compared to the male Jedi who almost always defeat her in battle. In her master’s eyes, she is always inferior to her male counterparts. Following the series’ conclusion in 2014, Ventress’s story was continued in the 2015 novel Star Wars: Dark Disciple,20 in which she can be read as

Heinecken’s feisty female. In the novel, she teams up with a different male Jedi to get revenge against her former Sith mentor. The Jedi is more skilled and powerful than

Ventress, and she eventually falls in love with him before dying in the end of the novel.

Despite a complex and engaging character arc throughout the series and novel, Ventress does not complicate previous depictions of the warrior woman villain the same way either Callisto or Kuvira do.

4.3 “Okay, I’m in.”

With the exception of the warrior woman as a villain and further analysis of the survivalist woman, I believe I have provided sufficient reasoning for the evolution of the warrior woman trope moving into the fourth wave of feminism. The ability for science fiction as a genre to imagine the potential trajectory of contemporary societies provides creators the opportunity to imagine futures. These may include sociological developments for gender equality while voicing concerns and values of feminist thought.

20 Star Wars: Dark Disciple was written based on unfinished scripts and episode arcs that had been intended for another season of the television series.

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While the warrior woman trope has existed for a long time, its pervasiveness on

American television during the 1990s made a significant impact on the genre of science fiction. The genre saw an explosion of complex and iconic female characters championing the rights and abilities of women in multiple times and settings. Xena:

Warrior Princess introduced audiences to a former warlord on a path of redemption and recompence. She was a renowned warrior who eventually learned to overcome her past transgressions and fight for the common people. Her journey was one of defending the weak and of self-betterment. Buffy the Vampire Slayer subverted the final girl trope from slasher films by making the blonde cheerleader the thing that goes bump in the night for demons and vampires. It created a Chosen One who came to accept her destiny as the individual capable of saving the world countless times. In her quest for personal liberation, Buffy also came to understand the struggles of growing up and of the benefits of friends and allies.

As these characters championed women on Earth, space operas created complex, egalitarian societies in which women had already achieved a certain degree of equality.

Series like those of the Star Trek franchise, the Stargate franchise, and Battlestar

Galactica attempted to craft narratives in which women were not considered the

“weaker” sex. They envisioned fictional worlds where gender disparities had either been resolved or were not addressed at all. In the midst of these larger programs, Firefly represents an unassuming, yet innovative series that demonstrated wide-spread egalitarianism and also subverted expectations for established clichés of female characters.

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Like many of her predecessors, Zoë Washburne exhibits values and concerns that have been identified as part of the third wave of feminism. She strives for autonomy and individuality, the ability to control what she does in life without some higher authority placing demands on her. But coming after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the

United States, Zoë represents a new type of the warrior woman trope that accompanied the disruption of the third wave of feminism. Whereas many of the warrior women before her respond to some external influence, generally divine or male (or both) compelling them to take up arms, Zoë is responding to an existential motivation to fight for her beliefs and against a totalitarian regime. She exemplifies the volunteer woman I have suggested as an addition to Tasker’s typology. Her willingness to go into battle and defend those in need, and then her continued desire to aid those most marginalized after the war set her apart from previous warrior women. Zoë’s actions are then read not as narcissistic; rather, they are selfless. This selflessness and moral compulsion to help those abandoned by the Alliance government reflect an evolution of feminist values that correspond with the evolving concerns of the fourth wave of feminism. It is this combination of facets from multiple waves that establish Zoë as especially unique and innovative in terms of female characters in televised space opera, the evolution of the warrior woman trope within science fiction, and women in television as a whole.

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