Female Characters and Interpretations of Empowerment on TV

Dominique Tipper as Naomi Nagata on The Expanse

Casual use of the term empowerment has come under scrutiny in recent times; female empowerment especially is a bit of a minefield, and on television everyone has different ideas as to what constitutes empowered female characters.

Telling people they should like a character or program for politically correct or “empowering” reasons is pointless. A television series involves hours of viewing, possibly spread across years. If the audience doesn’t connect in some way with at least one character, they won’t continue watching. The harsh truth is you need viewers to feel engaged, not obligated. And that’s complicated.

People recommend a series and assume I’ll love it because the female lead “kicks ass.” But lately my reaction has been disappointment for the most part. When a trend in entertainment takes off, new tropes and stereotypes evolve, and the current lot hasn’t been holding much appeal.

Discussing with a friend how “empowerment” for female characters seems to translate as a penchant for physical violence and more aggressive language, she pointed out these are characteristics traditionally viewed as masculine traits, and in today’s world are still more admired than attributes considered traditionally feminine.

This got me thinking: empathy, kindness, tolerance and gentleness, historically considered feminine traits (however right or wrong an assumption) aren’t really celebrated onscreen. Great for brief humanizing moments, or when displayed by the support cast, but they aren’t the dominant aspect of leading female characters currently on TV. Aggression—whether physical or verbal—is generally the popular trait.

At present, I dislike the Passionate Idiot trope most. She’s found not just on television but in film and fiction too. The Passionate Idiot is often dressed in skin-tight jeans and a singlet, is a heavy drinker, and always mouthing off. Basically she acts like a bitch because she’s been hurt in the past. Usually good in physical fights, and often involved in them, being aggressive both physically and verbally.

With this emerging stereotype “passion” replaces intelligence as an admirable quality; the passionate idiot is brave but not too smart, missing vital clues, often forgoing a plan and leaping into dangerous situations without thinking. But loyalty to friends, combined with an aggressively “passionate” nature, is apparently more appealing in terms of hero qualities than an intelligent woman who uses her brain, and occasionally practices restraint.

Have you ever heard the argument most TV and film is written to appeal to the inner 12-year-old boy of the male audience? I feel like the “empowerment” female heroes of today are written to be in-ya-face cool as imagined by the inner 12-year-old girl of the female audience.

Scriptwriting is key to creating interesting female characters onscreen, but glossing a PC veneer of “empowerment” onto the surface doesn’t an in-depth and fascinating character make. So what makes a female character on TV qualify as empowered? Tough question, since it involves breaking down actions and motivations, onion-style.

A flawed character is immensely appealing and always has been, but why are some deemed annoying while others become TV icons? At what point, and why, does a representation of a woman on television leap out of the screen, making the viewer want to see the rest of her journey? And does a female character need to be “empowered” to be popular?

Life experience impacts audience response. That’s what I like about television: it’s just you, the story, and a whole lot of twists and turns, in terms of reactions. Sometimes people can’t verbalize why they love a show or character, possibly because they’re not consciously aware of the reasoning; the subconscious has it’s own agenda, and often doesn’t like to share.

Considering my own response to female characters on the small screen seemed a good way to ponder empowerment, and appeal. Below I’ve listed a few shows, characters, and scenes that have stuck, in the hopes of breaking down where exactly empowerment and engagement cross for me as a viewer (that will hopefully help me as a writer).

Orphan Black

The clone premise of this program provides even better storylines than identical twins with opposing personalities (here’s looking at you, Wakefield sisters from Sweet Valley High). They say everyone has a doppelganger in the world, and this is a nightmarish/futuristic interpretation of the idea.

Orphan Black isn’t my favorite science fiction series but I think the writers play with expectations of womanhood and a woman’s concept of identity marvelously. Part of Orphan Black’s success is the way the narrative plays with tropes. Storylines we’re traditionally used to seeing on TV get flipped on their head. A dark sense of humor balances out heavy themes; I love the occasionally whacky messes this mob gets into alongside the intense dramatic moments.

Most notable characters (for me) include clone Alison Hendrix, a suburban housewife whose desire for Brady-like perfection turns out to be just one facet of her nature. On her journey of “empowerment” Alison found time to fit murder and a drug-dealing career into her busy lifestyle.

Then there is Helena. Trained to be a killing machine, Helena enters the story as an assassin attempting to eliminate her fellow clones. Raised on warped religious dogma, she’s hilariously funny in a deeply shocking way, but at the same time her unique perspective and experience of the world makes for a fascinating character.

What I like most about Helena is how the evolution of her empowerment is choice in the form of mercy, and empathy—especially in a maternal sense. And viewers are never 100 per cent sure which path Helena will take (as shown by her surprising soft spot for Alison’s fumbling husband Donnie).

The clone club also includes gay clone Cosima and transgender clone Tony, and the idea the clones have different sexual orientations along with varying personalities is intriguing. Some of the clone club are extremely intelligent, and I like that while Rachel uses her high IQ without empathy to further her own agenda, Cosima primarily uses her intelligence to help others.

Being more emotionally open and connected to each other is part of what empowers the surviving clones; aggression and physical violence are tools but they also utilize careful planning and choose to practice kindness, even to the detriment of long-term goals. In summary, Orphan Black offers a wide spectrum of empowered female characters.

Slap Scene In Pretty Little Liars

Pretty Little Liars is rife with interesting female representations. Jenna is an intriguing character, blinded by a prank attributed to the Pretty Little Liars crew (although Alison is primarily responsible). As a result Jenna is a prime suspect in the hunt for mysterious cyber-bully A.

In the bathroom scene I’m referencing, Jenna smirks because she recently paid new character Caleb to spy on Hanna. Hanna fell in love and lost her virginity to Caleb before discovering he was in Jenna’s employ.

Upon crossing paths, Hanna, who hasn't employed physical violence up to this point, impulsively slaps Jenna, who becomes disoriented and frightened; a slap would be shocking for anyone, but more so for a blind character. The other Pretty Little Liars present are stunned, displaying neither condemnation nor approval.

Hannah picks up Jenna’s sunglasses and places them in the girl’s shaking hand, with the line, “This is Hanna, in case you’re wondering.”

Pretty Little Liars always explores power dynamics across different types of relationships, especially focusing on the grey zone. Hanna crosses a line, and in the moment it feels warranted because the audience sides with her pain. What Jenna set in motion for Hanna might have pushed another teen to suicide, so it could be argued Jenna's already crossed a psychologically abusive line.

But hitting a blind person in the school bathroom is wrong (hey, hitting anyone in the school toilets seems wrong) and it is one of the first times Jenna appears frightened in the series. When it comes to lies, manipulation, and bullying, Jenna is empowered, but in this moment she becomes the victim, and audience empathy swings to her.

Keeping in the mind the torment Jenna inflicted, you understand that loss of control even if you don’t agree with it. Hannah snapped—and slapped! But it’s a simmering powder keg on both sides. If not for this group of friends Jenna wouldn’t have lost her sight.

That’s what I like about the writing: Jenna is a Mean Girl before she loses her sight, and after. Going blind doesn’t disempower her. In this moment it does place her at a disadvantage, but overall her personality never loses its vindictive bite. To paraphrase her stepbrother Toby, she’s a strong person—it’s what she does with that strength that is the problem.

The confrontation between Jenna and Hanna has a lot of layers, and history; probably why the scene stuck. In this moment Hanna leaves veiled and not-so-veiled threats behind, crossing over into physical violence, but her journey is a result of Jenna leaving veiled threats behind and crossing into psychologically abusive territory. As with most power plays in the PLL world, nobody wins.

At its core, from day one the show has been about a group of young women’s struggles for empowerment in the face of persecution and blackmail, in a largely predatory world.

Women Of The Expanse

Beautiful costuming too.

Most notably, Shohreh Aghdashloo as Chrisjen Avasarala and Dominique Tipper as Naomi Ngata.

First up, I love the writing on this show and look forward to the second season. The cultures of the future are complex, and as a result the politics of the solar system are teetering on the brink of conflict. Conspiracies abound, and in terms of the main characters it seems like everybody is hiding something (or maybe the audience becomes as paranoid as the characters onscreen).

A high-ranking Earth politician, Chrisjen Avasarala is playing the long game. In pursuit of her goal she has become dehumanized, or should I say disassociated from the impact of her decisions. Great scriptwriting lets the audience understand how she came to be this way and why she’s so blinkered.

Chrisjen Avasarala is also a grieving mother, and this is worked into the story in a relevant way. The scenes with her family offer stark contrast to her ruthlessness in the political arena. (Her husband and grandson can be viewed as embodiments of the Earth First belief system that fuels her actions.)

At present the character is empowered by her political skills—in the grey zone. Surviving in a morally bankrupt environment where manipulation is an essential tool, rather than being a “baddie” the character is presented as an intelligent, complex individual who has empowered herself in a questionable way. She’s not violent, but has no qualms ordering violent acts she considers justified. Her empathy is unpredictable, in terms of the impact it has on decisions, and that’s intriguing.

The character Naomi Nagata is a bit of a mystery. She spends the first season trying to stay alive, along with the rest of the surviving crew, and her interplay with Jim Holden sets up an interesting power dynamic. Naomi Nagata is intelligent and well liked on the ship, but she’s obviously got secrets, and when caught up in the fall-out of a conspiracy the team can’t help being suspicious of each other.

Naomi acts as the moral compass for the character Amos Burton. Exhibiting sociopathic traits, he has a tendency for violent responses and only listens to Naomi. In the chaos that erupts, this does empower her, providing an insta-back-up vote but it’s also a problematic dynamic, especially under pressure.

By the end of the season it’s clear how much the team respects this character: calm under pressure, she’s an independent, clever, loyal, and pragmatic survivor who prefers a non-violent approach to problem solving. Seeing what Naomi will do next, and whether or not her secrets will be revealed in Season 2, is one of many reasons I keep tuning in.

Classic Flashback: Buffy and Co.

Way old skool.

A lot has been written about Buffy and her friends. Fans will tell you she’s the blonde cheerleader in a horror movie who is always meant to die… yet didn’t. Instead she becomes the killer—albeit a righteous one, her victim’s an endless list of supernatural nasties.

Part of the show’s charm is that people who love television created it, taking well-known storylines and throwing them for a loop amidst scripts brimming with pop culture references. More importantly, the series provided a steady stream of interesting female characters.

In relation to empowerment I think Buffy losing her supernatural strength (Helpless, Season 3 episode 12), drugged to the point where she was weaker than the average girl yet still capable of killing a vampire and surviving to tell the tale, is a standout. The goal was to show Buffy’s intelligence and survival instinct were the true source of her power. Episodes like this made the series so phenomenal.

The addition of Faith to the cast was genius. Faith, a slayer who emerged when Buffy died briefly, came to be viewed as the dark side of Buffy. Unstable and volatile from the outset, Faith’s existence allowed larger questions to be worked into the narrative, like the age-old nature versus nurture.

Buffy maintained friends/family were the key to her own stability, whereas Willow disagreed, believing Faith’s violent and destructive tendencies were an innate part of her psyche.

Independence versus responsibility, isolation versus teamwork: just some of the choices the female lead struggles with. Sexuality and relationships were also core themes. Angel’s turn to the dark side (a vampire who loses his soul) as a metaphor for boyfriends who become violent after sex was brilliantly clever. Learning how to be a woman empowered by a relationship rather than disempowered was constantly addressed.

I’m not really a fan of the final season, and dispersing the strength of the slayer to teen girls everywhere is probably one of my least favorite aspects of the show. But I think any series that runs longer than half a decade has a season or two less loved by fans.

Aside from Buffy and Faith, Willow, Cordelia, Anya, Tara, Dawn, Joyce and a heap of other female characters along the way were on journeys of personal growth. Everyone made mistakes, and evolved. The women of BTVS were understandably flawed, and that made them endearingly relatable.

Most would say Buffy The Vampire Slayer had many hits, and a few misses, in terms of addressing female empowerment, but it was constantly striving to challenge the female characters, and will always be a standout inspiration for future scriptwriters wanting to create well-rounded, engaging women of the small screen who inspire their audience.

5 by 5.