What We’re Watching

Schitt’s Creek Made Excellence Out of Whiteness

Whiteness and privilege. Two words not just taught in Systemic Injustice 101, but the unlikely description behind one of television’s best shows, Schitt’s Creek. You know the premise – a wealthy white family, the Roses, lose all their money forcing them to move to a small, backwater town, Schitt’s Creek. In a time where we can all use television that is simply good, Schitt’s Creek went above and beyond. It made excellent television out of whiteness and somehow managed to restore some faith in humanity along the way.

Instead of ignoring or fearing privilege, the script and cast own their whiteness and manage to both examine and make fun of it. From the moment the IRS raids the Rose’s extravagant family home, possibly a stone’s throw from a Kardashian enclave, to their out of place designer wardrobes, their whiteness sets the scene for a family that starts out impossibly out of touch.

While Schitt’s Creek isn’t the only show starring an all white cast and handling wealth and privilege, it is the only one that dares to be self-aware, funny, and heartfelt. Other shows like Succession, The Sopranos, and even Game of Thrones focus on the underbelly of wealth and whiteness. They leave you feeling disturbed yet intrigued. Instead of heart, these shows use dark cutting humor to expose the consequences of unchecked privilege. Spoiler: it’s a cocktail of misogyny, greed, and power trips. You know the drill.   

Whiteness and wealth is also the driver behind another lucrative genre, Reality TV. For decades now, the Real Housewives, Laguna Beach, The Hills, Vanderpump Rules and other reality shows have made entertainment from a similar premise of watching wealthy white people make mistakes. However the characters on these shows rarely change, which usually makes them even more hilarious. There is never a shortage of wine to throw in someone’s face or extensions to rip out – we love these characters for their dysfunction, not in spite of it. It’s a viewing experience devoid of empathy.  

While the Rose family endures their share of humiliation, whether it’s Moira’s less than star quality singing or Alexis’ dance routine, Schitt’s Creek maintains a sweetness reality television doesn’t offer. The Roses are permitted to be themselves, make mistakes, and learn a lesson without losing who they are. Perhaps that’s why the show connects with its audience differently – it’s nice each character becomes a bit better while being accepted for exactly who they are. 

Alexis Rose, played by Annie Murphy, is a combination of Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, and every Instagram influencer complete with her own single. Alexis’ problems initially seem to be centered around needing a man, but by the end of the series, she focuses on her education and starting her own business. Comparing Alexis’ relationship in the beginning with both Ted and Mud to the end of the series, we see Alexis grow more aware of herself, her wants, and the effect of her actions on others. Her connection with her brother David grows from annoyance to genuine love and companionship. 

Moira, the mother of the Rose family played by the iconic Catherine O’Hara, is a refreshing motherly figure that rejects all the stereotypes associated with the role. While Moira maintains her individuality and the love of her many wigs, she grows from a self-centered socialite to a valued member of her community and a supportive parent, even if she still doesn’t know how to “fold in” the cheese.

As the father, Johnny Rose is initially distant and removed from his children. Seeing himself as a traditional provider, Johnny solves any situation with one of his meandering business anecdotes. However as the series progresses, we see more of Johnny’s sweetness with his family and especially with Alexis. While initially he forgets Alexis’ middle name, coming to Schitt’s Creek gives him the opportunity to be there for his children. After Alexis’ breakup with Ted, Johnny is able to be there for his daughter in a way that he never had before. His charming approach to fatherhood transforms him into the anchor of the Rose family. Played by Eugene Levy, a comedic legend, he exudes kindness in this role. Making it even sweeter to have him share the screen with his real life family.

With David Rose, we see him grow from a monochromatically dressed man, who has a deeper relationship to his knits than actual people, to a monochromatically dressed man who finds love but more importantly a clearer sense of self. David is one of the few if not first pansexual characters on television. Played by Dan Levy, the joy of this character isn’t just because of what it means for representation, it’s that David is allowed to be more than just the one of the firsts. When David starts dating Patrick, it’s a love story whose beauty is in its ease – there’s no bigotry or homophobia insight. Rarely do we see two men on TV fall in love, even less common is to see them fall in love organically. Too often, the way the LGBTQ community is portrayed is limiting and stereotypical but David and Patrick’s story avoids all that. 

Whether it’s the famed David wine-coming-out-metaphor, Patrick’s stunning rendition of Tina Turner’s “Simply the Best,” or Moira’s connection with the JazzaGals, the characters of Schitt’s Creek connects us to themes we all crave. Not only do we love watching a hilarious white family with a propensity for the ridiculous embarrass themselves, we love to watch them grow individually and together. Schitt’s Creek reminds us that the material simply dresses up our lives – what truly matters are our relationships.         

Yes, it’s unusual for me and so many other POCs to love a white show like Schitt’s Creek, but I do. There are few shows that center and debunk whiteness as well as this. Like the softest down comforter or cashmere turtleneck, the Rose family makes us all feel cozy, included, and loved. A feeling we’ve never needed more.

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One Day At A Time in the Time of Coronavirus

It’s a global pandemic and we’re all stuck at home, scared. I know I’m alternating between feeling overwhelmed, bored, and helpless and none of these is a good look. And I’ve been working from home for years with a partner who also does. In so many ways, social distancing shouldn’t be a big deal for me. I’m an introvert. I already have a wardrobe of working-from-home clothes (elastic waistband “pants,” no underwire bras). I stream TV professionally.

And yet, it’s hit me hard, this new normal. My kids are too small to entertain (or feed) themselves and it’s enough to make even the most patient person go nuts. I’d like to go to the grocery store without feeling like I’m entering a biohazard zone. I miss at least having the pretense of a social life. But one thing, one show is getting me through this: One Day At A Time. Well, One Day At a Time and finding ways to contribute to society without getting within six feet of another human — but that’s another subject altogether.

Hopefully, you’ve already watched the first three seasons (available on Netflix) and are tuning in with me at the show’s new home on Pop TV. Maybe you just remember hearing about the campaign last year to keep One Day At A Time after Netflix canceled it. Maybe you tried to watch it and couldn’t get into the in-front-of-a live-studio-audience aesthetic of old (I’ve been guilty of that one myself). Or maybe you have something against Rita Moreno, in which case I would ask you to stop reading because this is not the place for you.

But whatever your situation, the time to watch One Day At A Time is now. First of all, you’ve got time. But more than that, couldn’t we all use a little refresher and reminder on the importance of family? Being stuck together may have our fuses running short but that doesn’t mean we can back away from these relationships. One Day At A Time offers a primer on how to do just that. Take season one where Justina Muchada’s Penelope and her mother, Lydia, as played by national treasure Rita Moreno, navigate the dynamics of a grown mother-daughter relationship. A good Catholic, Lydia wants photos of the Pope everywhere while Penelope just wants some peace. The two grapple with who controls the household and whose work is more valuable (sound familiar?) — Lydia makes the breakfasts and does the laundry while Penelope makes the money and worries about the finances (both women nurture the kids). In the end, they compromise by listening to and appreciating each other. Lydia adds a photo of Penelope’s inspiration (Serena Williams) next to the Pope’s and Penelope learns to appreciate Lydia’s unpaid labor. Certainly, that’s an (on-going) lesson for us all.

Plus, One Day At A Time demonstrates just how much and how much fun can be had within four walls and a small cast of characters. Yes, the Alvarezes do leave home (notably to Penelope’s work and her always-hilarious support group) but the bulk of the story happens at home with just the four of them (plus Schneider for comedy I guess). And a lot happens! They face down racism, sexism, classism, and more. They learn to love themselves and each other more. They encounter big structural obstacles (like the VA!) and small personal ones (class projects! first dates!). They grow and they tease and they nurture. It’s lovely.

And it’s filled with hope. And in these intense and scary times, that’s what I need. This show provides me a breath of fresh air, a reminder of the goodness taking place in other people’s living rooms, and a laugh when I need it. I’m taking the global pandemic one day at a time with One Day At A Time and I recommend you do too.

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Four Times ‘Party of Five’ Made Us Cry and Take Action

Party of Five is a tear-jerker. The original show had its premise of orphaned siblings learning to take care of each other. With this reboot, the parents aren’t dead but deported. Layering typical teen storylines with the anger of being betrayed by your country, it is ripe territory. The first season made me cry all the tears, but don’t for a second think the show was just trauma porn. No, Party of Five inspired righteous anger and action-oriented empathy so let’s revisit the moments that meant the most.

1. The Pilot

No kid should have to go through what Val goes through

The Acosta parents get picked up by ICE, spend time in detention, have their day in court, and are bussed across the border in the pilot. I cried. A lot. The scene where they get picked up in front of their children was the thing of nightmares. As the mother of young kids myself, I am haunted by the pain involved in deciding to leave their baby in the States. But the moment that hist me the hardest was Valentina’s testimony. She’s just a kid, a middle schooler, and there she was, up on the stand trying to convince a judge that taking her loving parents from her will represent “exceptional and unusual hardship.” She convinced me.

Val pouring her heart out and the best immigration attorney in LA aren’t enough to convince the judge. He literally says “my hands are tied,” despite being the decision-maker. A white man seals their fate. It’s infuriating, especially watching it in an election year. We set the laws of this country. I vote for the judges in my county. We must do better and change these hurtful practices so the real-life Acostas don’t have to go through this agony.

Get involved with changing the courts.

2. Lucia’s Speech

Lucia’s words break my heart with their devasting honesty

“Cruelty is the point” has become somewhat of a refrain about the current administration and so it makes sense the phrase popped up in Lucia’s unplanned speech in Party of Five’s seventh episode. In “Speak for Yourself,” Lucia organizes a fundraiser for an immigrants’ rights group and one of the activists challenges her to tell her own story. Here’s what she says:

I was remembering how my father shaved every morning. No matter what. Weekends. Vacations. Even when he was sick. He used to sit me on the counter, so I could watch him use his gleaming straight razor. The detention center was the first time I ever saw him with stubble. And when I went to kiss him, his cheek next to mine, it felt like a stranger’s and stupidly, I said something.

And the next time, there he was — from a distance, his old self, clean-shaven. But up close his face was raw. Covered in tiny cuts. He laughed it off and said he couldn’t find a mirror. But these past few weeks, learning about the conditions in these places, I realized that he was lying. There was probably one dull disposable razor that made the rounds from cell to cell. From father to father. Each man afraid of his children not recognizing him. Every man ashamed of appearing to be just a creature in a cage, deprived of every necessity that allows us to feel human. It’s on purpose, of course. There aren’t supply shortages or inadequate funds. Cruelty is the point.

It speaks for itself. Help protect immigrants’ rights.

3. The Acosta Parents Separate

Our government nearly destroys this once strong American family

At the end of the penultimate episode of the first season, Gloria Acosta tells her husband she wants to separate. Losing her kids has destroyed her sense of herself, her role in her family, and maybe her relationship with her husband. She doesn’t want to be a wife if she’s prevented from being the mother she is.

Gloria’s angry and ready to burn the whole thing down and I don’t blame her. What made this revelation so brutal was not the divorce — parents separate all the time — but rather the complete devastation wrought by our government. All season, the Acostas had been fighting for their family, an imperfect but loving group who need and respect each other. With the parents’ impending separation, the dream, the vision, the narrative of this once strong family crumbles. Even if its members could reunite, there may be nothing to put back together.

Support immigrant families.

4. Emilio is Not to Blame

Emilio is doing everything he can for his siblings

Oldest brother Emilio spends the season adjusting to his role as a caretaker for his four younger siblings. He gives up touring with his band, hanging up his guitar in the family restaurant. He stops hooking up with random women and tries to build more stable relationships. But it’s not enough to transition this early 20’s Dreamer into the parent the traumatized Acosta kids need. Rafa gets lead poisoning. Val runs away, making it to the border before getting caught.

As a result, Emilio finds himself in state-mandated parenting classes in the season finale, listening to other parents identify what got them there. But as Emilio says, “I am not the problem. What this country, what they did to my parents, and to their children? That’s the problem. That’s never gonna get fixed in here.” And he storms out. If only we could opt out of the government’s disregard for our families’ well-being so easily.

If you share Emilio’s anger like I do, help overhaul the system.

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Racing the Enigma of Netflix’s “You”

A brown woman lays unconscious on the sidewalk. Blood pools beautifully from her head. In the corner of the shot, you can see the green foliage from the park she was running in. In the next season, a different, once beautiful woman lies on the ground. She’s surrounded by her own blood with a gash on her neck running from one side to the other. You see one close shot after another of this carnage.

What is the point of these visuals in Netflix’s You? What are they telling us about Joe Goldberg, the world he inhabits and our own? Does their beauty or cruelty help you excuse his behavior? Are you rooting for him? And if so, is it because or in spite of them? That’s the question at the center of Netflix’s You, the psychological thriller told from the stalker’s perspective.

Joe seems created to confuse. He is, after all, a certain type of female fantasy — the rare man who reads (and loves!) books portrayed by Penn Badgley of Gossip Girl fame. He’s the type of guy who’d do anything — and I do mean anything — for the girl.

The question is — do you want such a guy? After two seasons, the characters on You are split. Joe spends the first season in pursuit of one Guinevere Beck, a blond MFA student played by Elizabeth Lail. Beck, as she’s called, falls in love with Joe, unaware that he’s not only stalked her but he’s also killing the people in her life that could keep them apart. When she finds out, she wholly rejects him, to the point where he kills her for fear of getting caught.

In the second season, Joe meets his match in Love Quinn, a Los Angeles health-food heiress played by Victoria Pedretti. Love is a stalker/serial killer in her own right and doubles down on Joe when she finds out he has the same predilections. Her season ends with the two moving in together, with a baby on the way. Nevermind that the fantasy of a female serial killer sets up a false equivalency between the genders, pretending that men and women hurt their partners equally (when men do so more often and more severely).

What these white girls have in common is the shared understanding of the preciousness of their feminity. They both see themselves as something to be protected, particularly by the men in their lives. You see this in Beck’s rejection of her father — when his addiction made him unable to protect her, she pretends he’s dead. When Joe shows up in her life and all sorts of strange things start happening, she remains oblivious. Love is not so naive but she continues to use her femininity as a shield — both to avoid becoming a murder suspect as a teen and later to avoid Joe’s violence, thanks to the embryo growing inside her.

The women of color don’t enjoy any such delusions. Natalie Paul’s Karen Minty escapes her relationship with Joe unscathed but she knows something is up. She tells Beck “Turns out, you’re my ‘get out of Joe free’ card” and “maybe he’ll do whatever the hell he did to Candace” (he buried her alive). Karen doesn’t become an object of Joe’s violent obsession but she still knows that something’s wrong with him. Beck doesn’t or at least, not until it’s too late.

Likewise, Carmela Zumbado as Delilah Alves and Jenna Ortega as her sister Ellie turn out to be more reliable judges of character. Delilah starts out suspicious of Joe but eventually ignores her suspicions and sleeps with him. It’s not long though before she finds out the truth and dies for her trouble. Ellie, meanwhile, is the only one who even comes close to holding Joe accountable. It (at least) stings when she tells him “I hate you. You brought the Quinns into our lives, and you’re the reason Delilah’s gone. Dead, right? She’s dead… you ruined my life.”

There are multiple lenses to see Joe, the white girl way that says he’s desirable as the ultimate caring boyfriend and the WOC way that sees him as charming but ultimately knows something’s not right. So where do you fall and does the show invite you there? The thing is, You is told from Joe’s perspective, so you could argue that its white gaze (and the patriarchal, racist nonsense that comes with it) is purposefully problematic. Joe may think he’s feminist because he calls out “toxic masculinity” but stalking and killing women certainly disqualifies him, right?

If you take this view, you have to admit that Joe isn’t just sexist but racist too. Just compare how different the violence is presented depending upon the race of the woman. We never see Joe murder Beck, despite it being a major plot point. His violence against Candace is similarly hidden for a long time. However, we see the blood spill artistically out of Peach Salinger’s head after Joe attacks her. The camera zooms in on the brutally murdered body of Delilah more than once. Why do we need to see the gash on her neck, the blood around her body so many times? The white women are afforded more dignity because, in the land of You, theirs is the only womanhood that is to be sought after and protected.

It’s the typical treatment of black and brown bodies and it reveals Joe’s bias. The show’s white creators have said they’re interested in the way Joe’s whiteness gives him a pass. It allows him to go undetected and perhaps for white audiences to remain sympathetic. If you saw him brutally murder Beck could you stay on his side? If the camera panned slowly over her murdered body multiple times, would you still root for him? It’s hard to watch You as a Latina and not feel like the show, whether told from Joe’s point of view or not, is discounting my personhood. Like it doesn’t take the violence against the Candaces and Becks more seriously than the Delilahs and the Peaches. That it doesn’t believe that Love is more valuable than Karen.

In the end, inhabiting Joe’s mind and world view is not a useful exercise. We get too much media from the white devil’s perspective — we don’t need more. You’s been renewed for a third (and hopefully final) season. In it, I hope Ellie exacts some revenge on Joe and Love and all their glorious whiteness. Next, I hope the Ellies and Delilahs, the Karens and Peachs get the story told from their perspective. And then, we’ll get to see something truly transgressive.

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Marvel’s Runaways: We Can All Be Heroes

Symbols are tricky. I remember one of my English teachers giving us instructions for a poetry assignment: don’t compare homework to peas just because you didn’t like them both. The similarities need to be deeper. The comparison needs to provide insight. This bit of wisdom is strangely connected to Marvel’s Runaways, Hulu’s recently concluded teen superhero show, because, in the end, their lazy symbolism made the show a miss for me.

The show’s creators were clearly trying to be smart and not make the same mistakes many teen shows have. First, there’s the makeup of the main group: six teens, four girls and two boys. That gender split is rare on any show, let alone in the comic book genre that’s known for its male leads. And gender’s not all — in terms of sexuality and mental health, the show depicted relatable story arcs and likable characters inhabiting a range of identities. Good job. Checkboxes crossed!

Perhaps Runaways’ most meaningful nod to advancing representation is in the race of our six principles. There’s a Japanese-American girl, a black boy, a Latina girl, and a Latina actress playing a white girl in addition to two white, white characters. This diversity reflects the show’s Los Angeles setting which in reality is about half white, 10% Asian, 10% Black, and about half Latinx of any race. The show’s good intentions couldn’t be clearer then when they changed a “Molly Hayes” to “Molly Hernandez” to get that Latina in there.

Molly’s the heart and the muscle of the group

Unfortunately, it’s the execution where the show gets a bit wonky. Take Karolina, the white girl of the group. She’s got long, flowing blond hair and favors hyper-feminine bohemian clothes. A half alien, her superpowers include glowing in a sparkly rainbow gradient, flying, and shooting what looks like light. She grew up as the only child in the first family of the Church of Gibborim and when the church’s members see her in her rainbow glory, they declare her the new messiah. That’s a lot of positive symbolism: light and goodness and you guessed it whiteness all wrapped into one.

And it might have been forgivable if the other blond girl, crossing over from Cloak and Dagger, didn’t also use light as her superpower (while her counterpart is a Black boy who uses… darkness). Similarly, Karolina is paired with Nico, a Japanese American girl who uses witchcraft, a magic staff, and “darkness” to accomplish a range of things from disappearing bad guys to invisibility spells. When Nico’s really in full force, the skin around her eyes turns black and cracked like a midnight desert ground.

In Runaways’ third season, Nico and Karolina break up because Karolina believes the “darkness” is consuming Nico. It’s not a good look to stereotype the Asian character’s power as coming from evil sorcery (in the comic books it’s even worse with Nico’s power growing out of self-harm) and the white character’s power centered around light and God.

Light and darkness kiss (but don’t make grey)

The light/dark dichotomy is the worst but it’s not the only symbolism problem. Take our Latina superhero Molly. Her power is super strength, which is cool but still bases her body as the only tool at her disposal. Why can’t a Latina be more than her physicality? Or consider for a second that the boys don’t actually have superpowers at all. They’re just really smart. Isn’t it a bit weird to have them be so good in the stereotypically-male fields of STEM (one’s a hacker and the other an engineer), that it equates to a superpower, while the girls all get their strengths from their bodies and/or magic?

I don’t love it. And before you say, “well that’s how the comic books were,” let me say that’s nonsense. First of all, they did change things from the original (Molly being Latina, removing the self-harm bit) and they could have gone further. Or, and this is an important one, they could have picked less problematic source material! We’re finally getting comic books from the POC-perspective. Why not make one of them into your next TV show?

The thing is, I want Marvel’s Runaways to succeed even with these issues. I hope Disney+ gives it more seasons after its Hulu cancelation. There’s so much potential — we could learn that Gert is adopted and actually is Latina like the actress who plays her. We could see Nico’s power re-positioned not as darkness but as something else — as was hinted at in the third season when she comes back from studying/learning about magic. We could see brunettes being filled with light and blonds using “darkness.” Hell, we could break away from the whole light-dark colorism nonsense entirely. And if it doesn’t happen on Marvel’s Runaways, it should happen soon on some other show. We can all be heroes. It’s time Hollywood wise up to that fact.

I’ll miss you, friends!

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Saying Goodbye to “The Good Place”

I’m going to miss The Good Place. I loved escaping to a world where people are basically good, cruelty is bad, and fairness and justice are worthwhile pursuits. It seems like a pretty standard baseline but in Trump’s America, it’s not.

The Good Place premiered in September 2016, before the last presidential election when so many of us (myself included) thought a woman would be president. I didn’t watch the show then mostly because I didn’t think I’d need it. But now that it’s ending, I’m grateful I had it these last four years, as a reminder of the simple importance of goodness.

Take for example the value judgments around helping others. Does being a good Samaritan make you a sucker or a good person? In Trump’s America-first doctrine, it means you’re a dupe. Lesson one: everyone’s out for themselves. Don’t even think about taking a risk for the sake of others. Not only will you get nothing in return, but you’re also bound to be taken advantage of. Think of aid for Ukraine or even somewhere within the U.S. that does vote (or vote Republican) like Puerto Rico. Or the Paris Climate Accord. These were “bad deals” because the United States didn’t get “anything.” It doesn’t matter if they led to an overall good or not.

Eleanor starts off The Good Place with a similar attitude — she’s out for herself and herself only — something the audience is meant to understand as wrong. She doesn’t belong in the good place and has to change her ways. Soon she’s learning philosophy from Chidi and bringing Jason and Tahani into her ethics study group. Over the last four seasons, this clique has grown to include Michael and Janet as they work to redeem humanity and themselves. This group of unlikely heroes not only improve themselves, they change the entire system by which we’re judged, even fixing heaven itself. And they’re able to do it because they share some basic beliefs — like torture is bad.

In devising the new system, the group studies Judith Shklar’s “Putting Cruelty First,” which argues that cruelty is “society’s primary flaw.” When Eleanor declares, “we need to come up with a system that will result in the least amount of cruelty and suffering to those who don’t deserve it,” Chidi kisses her (on roller skates!). It’s a sweet scene and an ethical theory that’s easy to get behind. People shouldn’t suffer for no reason, right? Living an ordinary life shouldn’t result in an eternity of torture. And yet, here on Earth, that’s the way things work. We’re still separating families at the border. We’ve executed a foreign leader. Trump’s impeachment defense is basically to convince America that corruption is normal.

It’s like Trump’s a demon from the bad place, a devil in a skinsuit with a bad haircut. But instead of rallying against him, we’ve made him President. Now, he didn’t win the popular vote in 2016. But our system is built in such a way that the will of the people doesn’t matter. We’ve got the Electoral College, gerrymandered districts, and voter suppression — all to protect rural white voters’ preferences above all others.

What we need now is the courage to change the system. Upon realizing that no person has qualified for the good place in 500 years, Michael, Janet, and the four humans set out to figure out what’s happening and change it. There are lots of obstacles and, this being TV, all of humanity almost gets erased. But they don’t give up, they don’t sit by and let the injustice stand. They travel to hell and back. They sacrifice love and find it again. They stretch themselves, pushing past discomfort and doubt to achieve something more. It’s a lesson for all of us. And it’s one I’ll miss when The Good Placeconcludes its fourth and final season.

It turns out four years is enough to tell this story. Let our suffering not be eternal.

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“Picard” Has Me Missing “Deep Space Nine” More Than Ever

I grew up watching Star Trek: The Next Generation with my family. This was back in the days when I watched TV on an actual TV, wore hot pink Espirit shorts, and yelled “it’s back” to my dad so he’d stop cooking dinner and come in and watch. I identified deeply with Counselor Deanna Troy, although I was too young to have a crush on Riker. I liked seeing Geordi’s eyes in Reading Rainbow.

My family would discuss TNG (although we never called it that back then) over dinner, dissecting the show’s ethical quandaries and adventures. Later, I kept an eye out for Patrick Stewart, pleasantly surprised by his real-life pension for speaking out against violence against women and other atrocities.

So yes, I’m very excited about the upcoming show Picard. But it’s not the show I’d have made first. You see after TNG came Deep Space Nine and I’d much rather learn what Sisco is up to than Picard. Hear me out.

First of all, if you’re new to the Star Trek universe, I’m sorry. In that case, let me suggest you start with Deep Space Nine. If you try to watch TNG now, you probably won’t like it. The show’s still great but it doesn’t have the full-season arcs that modern viewers are accustomed to. DS9 (can I call it that?) did serial episodes when serial was still new, making it part of the vanguard of new television (a la The X-Files). This difference turns out to be a pretty big deal in today’s streaming world — one show is binge-able and the other is not.

DS9 also holds up better because it’s more reflective of the world we actually live in. For one, politics are complicated. In TNG, Picard was a fair, if imperfect leader. He was the wise patriarch of his ship in near-perfect control of his crew. TNG made pains to complicate this vision (see how Picard can’t play poker because of the distance needed to maintain his leadership or those episodes where the Borg take him) but the fundamental truth of it still stands. The idea of a lone, wise white man leading alternates between laughable and frightening today, depending on if the news cycle is covering Twitter misspellings or World War III.

Captain Benjamin Sisko was in a much more complicated position. He ran a space station co-leased between his Star Fleet/Federation of Planets and the neighboring Bajoran planet/people. As such, he didn’t have full control over his dominion and instead had to navigate a foreign society and power structure. Over the show, that relationship moved over time from close to tense to eerily close, like when the Bajorans decide Sisko is their emissary (the Bajoran messiah) and things get really messy.

Also, Sisko is Black. Avery Brooks portrayed Sisco with grace, authority, and a taste for mischief, allowing him to be fully human and an amazingly good leader. We see him struggle as a father, try out romance, and serve as a major player in intergalactic events. And while (human) races don’t really exist in the future that is Star Trek, Sisco’s blackness still matters. We viewers see it and note it. Though there are the episodes where the DS9 crew travels back in time via the holodeck (to when melanin meant something), the real importance of Sisco’s race is how he redefines leadership. It’s not a white guy this time and that’s for the best.

DS9 made waves at the time for its casting of a black man as its captain, but the show’s portrayal of gender is no less evolved. There’s First Officer Kira Nerys in the Strong Woman role. Nerys is tough and firey, a former revolutionary with a deeply spiritual side. While a militaristic woman may not be noteworthy today, it’s worth remembering that the main recurring female characters on TNG were caretakers — the counselor and the doctor — in traditional female roles. TNG’s Tasha Yar is more like Nerys but Yar dies pretty quick while we get to see Nerys change and grow. So another point for DS9.

DS9 also had my perhaps favorite character in the Star Trek universe: Jadzia Dax. Played by Terry Farrell, Dax is a charming risk-taker who’s actually two beings in one: a big slug thing that’s lived seven lifetimes in various hosts and an accomplished science officer who’s melded all those memories, voices, and personalities into one roguish personality. Dax has lived as both men and women, a fact the show keeps top of mind by having Sisco nickname her “old man” in reference to his friendship with the previous host. Talk about progressive! In Dax, we have a charismatic trans character who eventually MARRIES TNG royalty in Worf.

DS9 really had it all — characters that would push boundaries today, politics that made you think (and not just long for a bygone imaginary), an acronym that we used then and now. If the Star Trek captains were US presidents, Sisco would be Obama (and Janeway would be Hillary but that’s neither here nor there). Picard would have to be Lincoln — I wish we could pick someone more recent but it’s been a long time since there’s been a white man of unimpeachable character and competence in office. That’s just not the world we live in now. And re-imagining a white, male savior is not where I’d take the Star Trek franchise next.

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10 Women-Centered Shows to Watch in 2020

Have you seen the news? According to a new report, we’re getting more media from women’s perspectives than ever before — a whopping 10% of top-grossing films were directed by women last year, representing the highest percentage in 13 years. And while some activists are literally shedding tears of joy, everyone agrees there’s still a lot more work to be done (see how the Golden Globes completely shut out women directors).

So together let’s start 2020 with a TV diet that’s more like 90% women-led, 10% men and keep pushing the ratio in the right direction. To help, we’ve put together a list of the ten women-centered shows we’re most excited about in 2020. Happy watching!

Call the Midwife

This BBC favorite is now in its ninth season and for those looking for a Nonnatus-House fix, you can catch the Christmas special before the new season starts airing state-side in March. Call the Midwife is pretty much the only show that valorizes women’s bodies and work without sexualizing them. And it does this while championing political issues like abortion and mental health to create truly compelling TV. Although, it does make us sad to see women in 1960s London get better maternal care than Americans today…

The Good Fight

We’d watch anything with Christine Baransky in it. And the same goes for Audra McDonald. So we’ll be re-upping our CBS subscription when The Good Fight returns later this year. We’re fine with the departure of Maia Rindell (played by Rose Leslie) and hope the show spends its free time centering its black characters (and hey, maybe there will even be a Latinx or two!). Whatever happens, we know The Good Fight will continue its tradition of cutting-edge political commentary, making this entirely women-helmed show a therapeutic must-see in an election year.

Grey’s Anatomy

We’re still watching Grey’s Anatomy and we’re not embarrassed about it! The second half of the show’s sixteenth season will air in 2020, not to mention whatever they have cooked up for the likely seventeenth installment. The show has morphed from its early bed-hopping days (don’t worry there’s still plenty of sex) to taking on issues ranging from working motherhood to systemic problems with healthcare. But if anyone can fix our medical system, we’re confident it’s Dr. Meredith Grey.

Insecure

We named Insecure one of our top shows to watch in 2019 but then it didn’t come out! So count us even more excited for the fourth season, which both Issa Rae and HBO promise will be out in 2020. That said, we’re happy for Rae whose major movie stardom delayed the premiere. This season, we’re expecting Issa to give us more heartbreak, laughs, and insights as she and her crew celebrate the trials and joys of being young, black, successful, and female in Los Angeles.

Killing Eve

Did you see Jodie Comer in Star Wars? It was blink and you’ll miss it but that’s not what we’re most excited about. The villainess from Killing Eve is having quite the year from her Emmy win to her appearance in the coveted franchise. That said, we all know our national treasure (that we borrowed from Canada) is still Sandra Oh. And we’re excited to see these two back together again, particularly, because women make murder and espionage more interesting (thanks to creator Pheobe Waller-Bridge)!

Pose

Pose is beautiful, heartbreaking, and fun, set in New York’s ballroom scene of the late 80s, early 90s. While we’re glad the show has gotten Billy Porter that much closer to his EGOT (looking at your Oscar), we’re particularly enthusiastic that the show’s Afrolatinx stars Mj Rodriguez as Blanca and Indya Moore as Angel are getting their due. We’re expecting season three to be just as poignant as Blanca continues her recovery from AIDS complications and Angel braves the fashion industry as an out, trans model.

Russian Doll

The first season of Russian Doll was pretty much perfect so we’re having a hard time imagining what they’ll do in season two. That said, we trust this all women writers’ room and directorial team to deliver a stunning sequel. Netflix is cagey about the details but we can’t wait to see Natasha Lyonne, Charlie Barnett, Greta Lee, Dascha Polanco, and Ritesh Rajan back together contemplating life and death. At the very least, we’re promised great music, costumes, and the rare depiction of the true diversity of New York City.

Shrill

Show creator Lindy West holds a special place in our heart from her writing days at Jezebel. Two books, a New York Times column, and one show later, we’re even bigger fans. Staring Aidy Bryant and Lolly Adefope, Shrill follows a young journalist and her roommate as they make careers for themselves in their plus-sized bodies that have nothing wrong with them except how society views them. With the bonus points earned for the abortion scene in season one, we’re sure Shrill’s second season, out this year, will deliver a tragicomic look at the reality of being a young woman in America today.

Vida

We think Vida is pretty much the best thing on TV. Created by Latina Tonya Soracho and following the Hernandez sisters as they deal with gentrification, sexual mores, and identity issues, Vida is as hot as it is compelling. Plus it bucks all the stereotypes of latinidad from how we eat our tacos to how we deal with generational conflict. Season two ended in a hell of a cliffhanger and we can’t wait to see what season three means for the bar, the sisters, and the entire neighborhood.

Westworld

It’s been a while since we’ve been to Westworld (we think it’s destroyed now) but we’re still excited to dive back into HBO’s sci-fi dystopia. Helmed by Evan Rachel Wood and Thandie Newton, Westworld is the ultimate critique of patriarchy — exploring what happens when men get to live out their toxic masculine fantasies (surprise there’s a lot of rape and violence). In season three, the victims of these attacks are fully sentient and ready to fight back with their superior strength and knowledge. Plus watching Tessa Thompson kick ass is always a pleasure.

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36 Years Since a Woman Has Won For Directing

It’s the first week of 2020, and as a new year begins, so does award season. As many of us are gathering our hopes and dreams for 2020, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association reminded us what we already know: we have our work cut out for us.

As has been widely reported, no women were nominated for director this year. Despite the amazing work that came from women directors in 2020, like Greta Gerwig (Little Women) and Lulu Wang (The Farewell), this decision brought the total to 36 years since a woman has won for Best Director. Fun fact it was Barbra Streisand for Yentl in 1984.

Not that it was all bad for women. Ellen Degeneres won the Carol Burnett award given to her by the incomparable Kat McKinnon whose heartwarming speech reminded us why representation matters. And the Television category proved to be  better for the ladies, with the comedic genius of Phoebe Waller-Bridge at the center winning the awards for: Best Television Series – Comedy and Best Actress in a Comedy Series. And while we’re happy and celebrate Fleabag, a favorite at Latina Media.co, it does reflect the lack of nominations for women of color at the Golden Globes.  

Only four women of color, Cynthia Erivo (Harriet), Ana De Armas (Knives Out), Awkwafina (The Farewell), Jennifer Lopez, (Hustlers), were nominated this year for an award and only one took home an award. Awkwafina made history by becoming the first Asian woman to win Best Actress in a Motion Picture — Musical or Comedy for her role in The Farewell. In a moving speech, she thanked director Lulu Wang. “You gave me this chance, the chance of a lifetime and you taught me so much and filming this story, being with you was incredible.” Awkwafina’s win was the highlight of the Golden Globes. 

While we also loved Michelle Williams speech about the importance of a woman’s right to choose and Patricia Arquette’s speech highlighting climate change, there was one statistic that was particularly disappointing: zero Latinas won. 
Despite Jennifer Lopez’s phenomenal work in Hustlers and Ana De Armas’s role in the thriller Knives Out, no Latinas took home awards. Side note Jennifer Lopez is the present we don’t deserve, see her outfit if you need further explanation it could not be more accurate. Despite Latino audiences historically having the highest rate of attendance at the box office, Hollywood has yet to recognize our contributions. There were many Latinas that were left without nominations despite award-worthy performances like Mj Rodrieguez in Pose and Melissa Barrera in Vida (and star of In the Heights coming in 2020). 2020 wasn’t our year at the Golden Globes, here’s to hoping the rest of awards season proves better (looking at you Oscars).

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In “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” Season 3, POCs Step Into the Spotlight

In season three, Amy Sherman-Palladino’s The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel finally gives us what we’ve been waiting for: characters of color! Check out with latinamedia.co co-founders thought of the latest installment and the risks and rewards of better representation.

CRISTINA: Wow was season three a departure from the lily-white spectacles of the first 18 episodes of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel! Gone was the awkward smoke break with black musicians, the lone black shopgirl forced to represent all of non-white New York. Instead, we got real characters of color and they were done surprisingly well. I was worried when Stephanie Hsu’s Mei Lin showed up. They gave her a lot of Asian stereotypes (Chinese, studying medicine, the eating-feet joke, etc.) but she turned out to be one of my favorite additions to the show. They not only didn’t saddle her with an accent, but they also made her Midge’s equal, which up until now didn’t seem possible on this show. By that lovely moment when Mei and Midge meet at the bar, I was totally sold. The only that that was hard to believe was that Joel had such great taste in women.

NICOLA: I agree the most shocking thing about Mei Lin is the fact that she’d be interested in a divorced dad trying to open his own bar in the first place. Talk about dating down. Mei is clearly a leader in her community, smart, accomplished and studying to be a doctor. It was also difficult to watch how the Chinese community was portrayed this season. While they tried to offer nuance with Mei, the rest of her community was relegated to the background or the not so metaphorical basement of the show. Mei is the only character who speaks, while the other Chinese characters only talk through her or stop talking when Joel comes down to check the fuse box or monologue about his interest in Mei. This relationship proves the trend I’ve seen in film and TV for decades, women almost always are 10 times more accomplished than their romantic counterparts, more so if they’re women of color dating a white man. And while I love her as a character, a part of me feels their relationship is just a replica of Joel and Midge’s — I hope soon Mei will realize that she deserves more than a man whose threatened by accomplished women. I would love to see her end up with a wealthy, successful and funny doctor like Benjamin who bonus has no ex-wife and always supported Midge’s career.

CRISTINA: Maybe Joel has learned something? Maybe he’ll overcome that fear? I mean if Sherman-Palladino can get Sterling K. Brown on her show, anything is possible! Seeing him definitely made me feel like they were doing it right. And his Reggie was wonderful, warm and tough, smart and fallible, protective and human. I loved the scenes between him and Susie. Their manager-to-manager moments got to the heart of the show and why Susie as the force-behind-the-marvelousness is often more interesting to watch than Midge herself. We’re used to watching stars but perhaps more intrigued by seeing how they’re made.

NICOLA: Sterling K. Brown is clearly one of the hardest working men in Hollywood. I was happily surprised to see him on this show, after his work in This Is Us, and yes, even Frozen 2. What I am more disappointed in is the fact that he seems to have to play the teacher/educator to white characters. While on This Is Us he definitely has his own agency, he often is the one who has to teach his only family about race and what it means to be Black in America. While his role in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is different and he definitely brings nuance and agency to his character, I found the scene with Susie with him in the barbershop a little more than unrealistic. The barbershop has a lot of historical significance as a place where Black Americans could debate ideas, politics and engage with their community in a space just for them. Using this setting for Susie’s plot point reflects a blind spot that this show still has.

CRISTINA: It was so unnecessary to have it there! Centering Susie’s point of view in a black barbershop was wildly tone-deaf. More on tune? Arguably the most important POC on the show, Leroy McClain’s Shy Baldwin. At first, I was worried that they were going to pair him up with Midge and I didn’t like it. I had no confidence the show could handle it well, particularly as it seemed like they were setting up his black masculinity as an over-the-top temptation. So when he turned out to be gay, I was pleasantly surprised. And I particularly appreciated the sensitivity in which they handled what it’d be like to be a black, gay musician at the time.

NICOLA: Shy Baldwin is currently my favorite character on the show. And the character he is given as a black entertainer in the 60s could have gone dangerously stereotypical. Instead, he is given agency and a complete storyline separate from Midge and her world. His character is given room to breathe and take up space, even when it means pushing an often clueless Midge out of the picture or even off the plane. I appreciate that the writers gave him a functional life where he would continue to be successful and unaltered without Midge there. Unfortunately, at this point, I couldn’t say the same about Mei whose relationship with Joel is the only way she can exist in this marvelous world.

CRISTINA: Do you think Midge crossed a line with her stand up at the Apollo though? Her jokes all seem so stayed compared to what gets said about LGBTQ folks today but that doesn’t mean they weren’t barrier pushing at the time. I agreed that they certainly wink at his sexuality without acknowledging it but that doesn’t mean they’re not derogatory. Watching the scene, I kept waiting for an absolutely clear, cringe-inducing joke to come out of her mouth but it never came. That said, I understand why Shy cut her in the end. I guess I think both of them can be right.

NICOLA: Once she said the phrase “Judy Garland” I knew a line had been crossed even though it was subtle. Judy Garland and “Friends of Dorothy” were often used as a euphemism to talking about sexuality without actually discussing it, especially in the 60s. I appreciated the overall subtilty because I think Midge is often clueless to the damage a word, phrase, or action could cause, especially if you’re a Black gay man in America. I think subtle isn’t an adjective that even Shy can allow. On the tarmac, Reggie says it all when he simply says “You’re not friends.” Because in the end, friendship is more than just sharing champagne on a boat or having one heart to heart, it’s understanding and acknowledging your differences as well.

CRISTINA: Right and Midge is not so great at that. In fact, any scene where she’s not the center, where she smiles at others jokes or has to sit in the background kind of fails. She just disappears and I’d be left wondering where all her marvelousness went. That said, this season had everything that fans of the first two will love, the beautiful costumes, cinematography, and set pieces. The charm of the supporting cast, particularly Midge’s parents (Marin Hinkle as Rose was particularly phenomenal this time around and Tony Shalhoub again delivered an amazing performance). And they addressed some of the annoying things about the earlier seasons (finally Midge accomplishes something and thinks of someone other than herself) but not everything (her landing that Apollo set was a bit hard to believe). And of course, the biggest, glaring problem was the lack of diversity.

NICOLA: I like this season a lot and much credit also goes to Midge’s parents who are natural scene-stealers and continue to be some of my favorite characters as they struggle with their new life phase. I think this show was definitely improved by adding Mei, Shy, and Reggie to the cast — not only are they strong, dynamic characters but they continue to push and challenge Midge and that it doesn’t happen in a vacuum.

CRISTINA: Looking to season four, my biggest hope is for Susie to finally get a love interest. They’ve already done gay, no reason to turn back (if she is indeed as gay as she seems). She didn’t need that gambling problem this season! Imagine how much more interesting a lover would have been! Anyway, I’ll be tuning in, assuming they bring Mei back.

NICOLA: Same! I love Mei and if they take her off the show just because things might end with Joel, I’ll be pissed. Because women of color are not just plot tools, and I hope they honor her character and maybe give her a dynamic storyline that doesn’t include Joel. My big hope is for behind the camera, currently, there are no writers or directors of color on the show. I hope next season Mrs. Maisel doesn’t just add people of color in front of the camera but behind it as well. I know this would make the show better and allow it to better tell the stories of the characters that represent our communities.

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