Joss Whedon

Dealing with the F-Word - By Misty K. Hook, Ph.D.

Much has been made about whether the work of Joss Whedon is feminist. Books have been written, blogs composed, honors given, and arguments created on the premise that the ’verses of Buffy, Angel, and Firefly are feminist. All this talk about the feminism in his work is interesting, but the truly fascinating story rests with Joss himself. Some may wonder why a man would publicly proclaim himself a feminist; even in twenty-first-century America, the term “feminist” is often greeted with discomfort, even derision, and Joss describes himself not just as a feminist but as a radical feminist. All feminists believe in the equality of women, but radical feminists take it a whole lot deeper. Radical feminists believe that the cause of women’s oppression lies deep in the entire gendered system (Tong). Thus, being a radical feminist means believing that fundamental changes to that system are necessary in order to bring equality (Steinem). Consequently, feminists tend to work within the existing system while radical feminists question the foundation of society itself.

Joss has located himself squarely within that paradigm. This is quite unusual. It’s understandable that some women would hold radical views, but a man? What causes a white, heterosexual male, who it is hard to imagine has suffered the kind of discrimination that would make him sympathetic to radical feminism’s cause, to think and behave so far outside of the box?

To answer such a question, you have to think about gender. In our culture, certain traits tend to be considered either masculine or feminine. Someone who is ambitious and assertive would be labeled masculine, while a nurturing and gentle person would be categorized as feminine. And this gender stereotyping is the main reason why many of the characters in popular culture are one-dimensional. Strong women tend to become “men in a skirt,” while men who embody feminine characteristics (and there are precious few of those) become objects of ridicule. However, current research indicates that femininity and masculinity are not a group of personality traits but are instead ways of looking at the world (Lips).

Thus, we all have what Sandra Bem (1981) calls gender schemas, which are cognitive structures that determine the way someone detects, evaluates, and organizes incoming information about gender. People who have “weak,” or simple, gender schemas do not pay much attention to gender and simply adjust their behavior to fit in with the stereotypical gender norms and expectations of their culture. In contrast, people with “strong,” or complex, gender schemas focus heavily on gendered information. While they are aware of stereotypical gender roles, they do not impose “masculine traits” on men or “feminine traits” on women but instead utilize personality traits for both sexes. And this is what I believe Joss does. He pays a great deal of attention to gendered behavior and information, and then sifts through it to emerge with his own conclusions about how people are and should be-which fits nicely within a radical feminist framework because it challenges the status quo.

One of the amazing and unique things about the work of Joss Whedon is that his characters are not gender stereotypes. Both his female and male characters defy expectations. Buffy, a popular adolescent girl, becomes a leader in fighting evil. Spike, a vicious killer, breaks down and weeps at the death of someone he loves. Cordelia, a beautiful young woman, is direct and confrontational without apology. Simon, a talented and ambitious physician, gives up everything to keep his sister safe. Instead of having his characters follow the rules of behavior for their respective gender, Joss unravels the contradictions of gendered behavior (e.g., Why can a young girl not be powerful? Why can a man not be vulnerable?) and gives voice to what is possible (Fine and Gordon). Thus, through the behavior of his characters, Joss demonstrates the richness and strength of people who encompass aspects of both masculinity and femininity.

Given the controversial, even threatening, nature of his work, one might wonder how Joss views his own gender affiliation. Does he consider himself masculine? Boys and men who reject typical masculine traits often become objects of derision; could this have affected his self-image? Gender schema theory, however, suggests that people are adaptive; they do not have to adhere to what society says is masculine or feminine but can instead incorporate changing cultural expectations to forge their own definitions (Bem). As a result, Joss is probably very secure in his own gendered behavior, and it is this very security that would allow him to be unafraid in challenging cultural dictates.

So okay, the strong gender schema allows Joss to notice and process information about gender in a radical way but how would he have learned that this was an acceptable thing to do? Socialization can be quite persuasive, and our male cultural ideal is very strong. We elect presidents and deify celebrities on the basis of that ideal. Where did Joss get the strength to defy such dominant cultural expectations?

In the small amount of research done on profeminist men (Vicario), it’s been found that most tend to have a close relationship with a woman, strongly identify with women’s disempowerment through their own marginalization, and know strong men who model profeminist ideals. Joss has all three. First and most importantly, Joss had a very close relationship with his mother, Lee Stearns. Their relationship had such a profound effect on him that he credits her as the inspiration behind his strong female characters. Reportedly, when Roseanne Barr asked him how he could write so well for women, he replied, “If you met my mom, you wouldn’t ask.” Second, Joss has talked about feeling alone, about feeling like a pariah because of his distance from others. He also has labeled himself as a nerd, a category that by definition sets one apart from the mainstream. Thus, Joss has experienced rejection because of who he is. Finally, Joss has mentioned his father, a strong and witty man, as someone who helped guide him in his feminist journey.

Consequently, with Joss’s path toward feminism firmly established by his parents and his own experiences, he likely began to use feminists, probably radical feminists, as his reference group. A reference group is a group with which we identify, a group to which we look for ideals and perhaps approval (Tajfel). When one of “our” groups is criticized, we become defensive; when one is successful, we are delighted. Both these things are true because our personal identities are strongly connected to our social identities. This may be why Joss keeps identifying himself as a feminist in both interviews and through his work.

While it is easy to say one is a radical feminist, the proof is really in the pudding. Just how radically feminist is the work of Joss Whedon? Keeping in mind the necessities of catering to networks and appealing to the mass market, the answer is that his work is indeed pretty radical. The women in his ’verses stand the traditional power dynamic on its head. They take care of themselves and are either leaders or integral parts of the team, whether that team is villainous or heroic. Few prominent women, even those who initially appear to be weak (e.g., Dawn, Tara, Fred, Firefly’s “Mrs. Reynolds”), are true victims.

This shift in the power dynamic can also be seen in the ways female characters persuade others to do what they want them to do. Women stereotypically gain influence via indirect strategies-dropping hints or asking leading questions-while men tend to use the more powerful bilateral and direct strategies (Falbo and Peplau). Bilateral strategies are methods that require a lot of mutual engagement, such as arguing or bargaining; direct strategies are ones that are open and clear, such as straightforward requests or orders. Joss himself has talked about trying to please everyone when he first started his career as producer and director. We can imagine that, as he gained experience and self-confidence in using more direct strategies, he was able to transfer that learning onto the female characters he created.

However, some of Joss’s female characters have used bilateral and direct influence strategies from the very beginning. Zoe always clearly and calmly states what she is thinking and what she wants. Inara also doesn’t hint around-at least when she’s off the clock. When negotiating to lease one of Serenity’s shuttles, Inara firmly told Mal what she would pay for rent (direct) and argued with him that having her aboard would increase his status (bilateral). Cordelia, too, uses powerful influence strategies, as she is always direct. When she was having financial difficulty in the first season of Angel, she simply moved in with Angel, telling him, “Hey, you can just dump my stuff on your couch or let me have the bed, whatever you feel good about” (Room W/A Vu, 1-5). Whatever else can be said about Cordelia, she never beats around the bush.

Not all of Joss’s female characters used powerful influence strategies, but those who didn’t soon learned how to negotiate from a position of strength, as though his characters were following his own process of unfolding. As he grows in his understanding of gender, his characters also evolve and develop, a sort of parallel process. Thus, Buffy began her tenure as Slayer using indirect strategies, but as she gained self-confidence and grew into a leader (much like Joss), she started using direct and bilateral influence strategies instead. Early Willow only hinted as to what she wanted or, if driven to more direct outbursts, backed down if confronted. However, she too learned that direct strategies garnered her more power, and by the time she was halfway through her freshman year of college she was sufficiently equipped to help Tara as Tara learned how to abandon her own indirect communication strategies and become a more powerful and effective person. Even River’s transformation can be seen as a more extreme dramatization of this process: because of the Alliance’s experiments, she had trouble with coherency, much less directness, for the series and much of the film, but fights through the trauma to identify Miranda and eventually take full control of her own abilities. By the end of the film she, like the other female characters in Joss’s worlds, knows how to get what she wants. And in creating such powerful women characters who make no apology for their strength, Joss is signifying his acceptance and support of dominant women.

Similarly, Joss’s female characters reclaim their sexuality. Instead of letting their sexuality be used to control them, these women use sex to empower themselves. In uniting sexually, Willow and Tara increase both their magical abilities and their self-confidence. Both Cordelia and Zoe use sexuality as part of their strength. Kaylee owns both her innocence and her sexuality equally, and her enjoyment of the latter doesn’t take away from her expression of the former. And then there is Inara. Her character completely flips our traditional perceptions of sexuality. Her vocation as Companion celebrates both aspects of the Madonna/whore dichotomy (Messner and Montez de Oca): she is the dizzying combination of the high status woman your parents want to welcome into the family and the sexualized fantasy woman you want in your bed. Inara never permits her sexuality to constrain her (she sleeps with whomever she wants), nor does she accept poor treatment because of it. Thus, especially with the character of Inara, Joss shows his desire that rigid gender roles and the sexual scripts that often drive them be a thing of the past.

While Joss’s vision for women does personify radical ideals, it is his depiction of men that is truly revolutionary. While many (correctly) bemoan the stereotyped portrayal of women in the non-Joss world, it should be pointed out that the rendering of men is equally as rigid. Many strong male characters in popular culture embody what Herb Goldberg described as the “male harness,” the idea that men be successful, emotionally controlled, competitive, and independent. As part of this circumscribed ideal, adult men do not cultivate intimate friendships with other men, but instead rely primarily on their female romantic partners and friends for companionship and support. Joss himself seems to break out of that mold. Joss’s emotions tend to be broad ranging; he frequently makes fun of himself, lavishly praises the work of others, and forms collaborative working relationships.

The one trait of the harness that Joss does possess is success-yet he uses that success to make the fruits of capitalistic accomplishments (our Western definition of success) seem bitter. Almost all of the men in Joss ’verses who are successful are the villains. Adelai Niska tortured Mal and Wash in “War Stories” because he valued success so much. He was afraid that if Mal got away with double-crossing him, he would lose his competitive edge. Lindsey McDonald and Holland Manners, both powerful lawyers for Wolfram & Hart, were so invested in succeeding that they were willing to sell their souls to the devil (in Holland’s case, quite literally) in order to do so. In almost every instance, the men in Joss ’verses who work to obtain vocational success are depicted as evil and, fundamentally, truly lost.

In contrast, none of his main male characters are successful in the tra ditional sense. Giles, though arguably at the pinnacle of success in his chosen field of Watcher (he is, after all, the guardian of the Slayer), never seemed troubled by having to masquerade as Sunnydale High’s librarian-a position of little power or prestige. Further, his reaction to being fired during season three appeared to hinge more on his concern for Buffy than his professional “failure.” Angel is more concerned with redeeming his soul than making money. Even when he agrees to take the reins of Wolfram & Hart, it’s not for financial gain but to help his son. Mal isn’t trying to get rich with his thieving; he’s just trying to survive. And Simon, the most vocationally successful good guy in any of Joss’s ’verses, gave up a lucrative career in medicine in order to save River. Giving up his success is what made him a good guy; if he hadn’t, if he’d left River to the Alliance when he could have saved her, he’d have become a villain.

Joss also ensures that his male characters are not totally independent. Traditional masculinity dictates that a “true man” is an island: he needs no one. In contrast, the men in the Joss ’verses are both connected and collaborative. They all work as part of a team, and seem to have no problem taking orders, even if those orders come from a woman. Giles may have begun the Buffyverse as Watcher, the man who was in charge of Buffy, but as she developed into a leader, he allowed her to take charge and accepted his role as part of her team. Angel headed up Angel Investigations, but after finding himself in a bad place emotionally, asked to become an employee under Wesley’s leadership. Even Mal seeks advice (from both Zoe and Book), works collaboratively with other leaders (as he did with Nandi in “Heart of Gold”), and followed River’s orders without (much) question to defeat Jubal Early in “Objects in Space.” The independent trait of the male harness just isn’t a part of any of the Joss ’verses.

In direct opposition to the male harness, Joss employs the radical technique of showing what could be: he allows his male characters to be mentally healthy. Study after study has found that the masculine stereotype promotes emotional distress (O’Neil, Good, and Holmes), violence, substance abuse (Addis and Cohane), illness, and early death (Courtenay). At its core, traditional masculinity is pathological because it is so restrictive. The emotions and vulnerabilities that women are expected to express are still there, but they are forced to rage beneath the surface. Joss cleverly exposes this gendered contradiction through the metaphor of monsters. Oz is the epitome of the stoic, emotionally contained male, yet his wild feelings are released while in his werewolf state. The ability of vampires to conceal their “true” faces-which are associated with rage, lust, and other strong emotions coded more masculine than feminine-can be read similarly. In this way, Joss demonstrates the unhealthy, even violent, outcome of leashing emotions until they can no longer be contained.

A better approach to good mental health is to allow people the option of expressing traits associated with either genders (Brems), and this is what Joss does for his male characters. (Mal isn’t even afraid to don a dress when necessary.) None of the men in his worlds (even those with monstrous dual identities) is a true “manly man.” All of them demonstrate a range of emotions, and instead of those emotions being viewed as weaknesses, they often are used to guide the characters toward deeper self-knowledge and acceptance. Spike may be the best example of this. His devotion to Buffy-which Xander, standing in temporarily for traditional masculinity, mocks him for-becomes the motivation for his transformation, and culminates in his winning his soul and sacrificing himself to save the world.

But perhaps the biggest reason that Joss’s work is so radical is that he understands on a basic level that equality impacts not only women and men individually, but also how they function in relationship to each other. Radical feminists want to free both women and men from the rigid gender roles that society has imposed upon them, yet this is rarely depicted, even on so-called “feminist” shows. All too often, strong female characters, whether in film or on television, do not have relationships with equally strong men (same-sex relationships are a different story). Usually, the strong female character is attracted to a strong male character and sparks fly, but when they get together romantically, even if the woman remains strong (in itself a rare occurrence), either the man becomes ineffectual or the couple fights incessantly. One reason behind this tendency toward unequal relationships is that men who value stereotypical masculinity do not function easily into intimate affectionate relationships (Pleck, Sonenstein, and Ku). Healthy relationships require emotional sharing, compromise, and sharing of power, all things that are difficult for a traditionally masculine man (Whitehead and Popenoe). As most television and screenwriters deal in stereotypes, depicting heterosexual romantic relationships as egalitarian becomes difficult.

The key romantic relationships in Joss’s worlds are not like that. In his ’verses, the strength of one romantic partner does not diminish the other. Thus, Angel encourages Buffy’s growth and leadership while she relies on his strength and knowledge. Buffy helps Angel learn how to love while he teaches her about sacrifice. Zoe and Wash each appreciate what the other contributes to both Serenity’s crew and their marriage. Although Zoe’s position as second-in-command creates a professional power imbalance, Wash speaks up when he views it as interfering with their relationship and both make changes so that the other feels comfortable. In every romantic pairing-Anya and Xander, Spike and Dru, Buffy and Riley, Fred and Gunn, Willow and Oz, Kaylee and Simon-both partners bring strengths (and weaknesses) to the relationship and value what the other has to offer.

There are aspects to Joss’s ’verses that I would prefer to avoid; I don’t really want to worry about vampires or start using the word “ain’t.” But because of the way Joss uses radical feminist ideals to help people be all they can be without artificial limitations, his worlds are places I would like to visit. I look forward to the day when I can.